#Midnight thought that wants to turn into a fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rhaeheartzsquirrelz · 2 months ago

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Late Night “Talks”

Sevika x Reader

Smut with a bit’a fluff.

Warnings: Sex: degradation, ass slapping/griping, strap-on, crying, fingering, streching out your hoo-haa, and biting. (r! receiving)

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find Sevika grousing in her thoughts. Where would the night lead you? Cozied up with your girlfriend or being roughed up by her? (You already know where this shit’s going idek why i put a summary…)

A/N: I couldn’t find any fuckass photos for this fic. Pinterest ain’t freaky enough!!

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With a dry swallow, you stirr in your sleep. Groggily waking up and looking around. Sevika wasn’t in bed, and it was midnight. Maybe a work emergency? Probably out late gambling again. Would she really ditch you for a card game? You still couldn’t help but wonder if she was alright. Great risk came with being Silco’s second, both you and your girlfriend knew that. She was probably cleaning up after Jinx? You thought. Maybe even doing whatever her scrawny boss told her to do; her boss who you, very much, hated.

Shifting to a sitting position, you reached for the cup on your nightstand. Empty. Groaning with frustration, you pushing off the bed, and go to grab a cool cup of water. Making your way towards the kitchen, you hear rustling in the living room. Curious yet scared, you take careful steps and peak towards the room. Thinking it was you about to get robbed, you were expecting a man. Maybe even multiple.

Then again, if you had gotten robbed, one scratch on you and Sevika would go crazy. You’re talkin’ search the entirety of Zaun and find the asshole(s) who even thought of touching you.

But, to your surprise, it was your girlfriend. Sitting on the couch, hands inbetween her spread legs, and body tense. “Sevi?” You called out, slowly approaching her. She was leaned heavily onto the couch, looking surprised to see you. “Fuck..” Mumbling under her breath, she turned her head to you. “Did I.. uh, wake you?” Her voice a grumble as she patted the empty space beside her. You accepted her invite and plopped down next to her. Thighs touching, she huffed softly before her prosthesis arm came around your hips. “No, no.. I woke up to get some water.” You answered.

Judging from her eyebags and the smell of alcohol, she was drained. It was twelve fourty-eight at night and Sevika hadn’t had a wink of sleep. “You look exhausted, let’s go to sleep?” Bringing a hand to her hair, your slim fingers ran through her dark locks in order to untangle any knots, even brush away her tension. She grunted into the touch, clearly trying her best not seem weak.

Sevika had grown to think affection was weakness, it was to her pathetic in a way. So, your job, as her girlfriend, was to show her it was okay to open up, to express even the tiniest bit of vulnerability.

“Was it work? Again?” You tilted your head to try to get a better look at her face. Lidded red eyes and furrowed brows, she was definitely not okay. “Nah, just..” A weary sigh left her lips, “you should go back to sleep.” Of course she’d kept a wall between you and her job. No matter what, she’d made it clear she wanted you no where near what she did for a living. To stay out of her profession life. “At least.. give me an answer?” Hands now in your lap, you fidget with the hem of your red pajama shorts. Feeling grey eyes on you, you know you’re about to get a no. About to be shot down with a change of subject.

“Jinx.” She said, leaning forward with her arms on her spread legs. “That’s all you’re gettin’..” At her response, you silently thanked her for being, at least, a bit truthful, it was better than nothing. Letting her answer hang for a second, you smile widely and try to brighten up the mood. “I knew it!” Shoving her arm with yours, she chuckled lowly before placing her heavy hand on your thigh. “Hm, ‘course you did, you little brat.” Her voice was full of fondness, a hint of exhaustion still lingered as her thumb traced the inside of your thigh.

“Y’know I don’t want you gettin’ involved with my shit, right?” She’d said that a million times, but this time it was.. a little more heartfelt. She was protecting you, and you knew that. “Yeah, I do. But I expect you to give me some sort of explanation, instead of shuting me out. Yeah?”

The first few months of dating were rough. Sure, intimacy was sky rocketing but not so much the trust part. Emotions were usually bottled up by Sevika, and fucking you was her way of getting them out. Horrible coping mechanism, you’d tell her. Your girlfriend was more protective than a guard dog, hovering over you and staring you down whenever the two of you would head out. As nice as it felt to feel owned, it was irritating having her get riled up over small-talk with a friendly stranger. But, thank to your understanding, you and Sevika had grown out of the bad habits.

“Yeah, yeah..” She muttered out, resting her back against the couch with a huff. “I try to.” With that, the room held a comfortable silence. For a few seconds, Sevika’s words hung for a moment too long before she gave your thigh a squeeze, coaxing out a response. “Better than nothing.” Is what she got, which she smiled and shook her head at. “Anyways..” Voice less still, “What’d this pretty little thing do today?” Thumbs grazing over your soft, delicate skin.

Masterbate? Why?

“Books and this lame ass TV.” You lied, smiling and trying to hide the truth. But, this had happened countless times and Sevika was used to it by now. Used to your.. horniess. Patting your thigh and inching closer to your core, she spread your legs. “And, you expect me to believe that?” Voice amused and sultry, she moved to wrap her prosthetic around your hip and pullled you onto her lap. Your chest against hers, she grabbed the back of your neck and drew you into a much needed kiss.

Tongue entering your mouth, running along your lips, and then dancing around your own tongue, Sevika was completely aware of what she was doing. As much as you tried to keep your noises to herself, the feel of her biting your bottom lip and gripping onto your ass was what made you unable to restrain yourself. Whining for more you arch into her and cup her heated face. It was hard to ignore the pulse of your pussy. It was yelling for contact.

Sevika whispered a soft, “I feel it.” With a chuckle inbetween the kiss. Obviously, it made you embarrassed. You didn’t expect your cunt to be so fuckin’ needy, especially after a small peck on the lips. Pulling away, your girlfriend slid her giant, flesh hand up your shorts and rested her fingertip against your clit. A squeak escaped your lips and you had already begun to feel yourself getting wet. “Shit’s got a pulse, Baby..” She teased out, a cocky smirk on her face as her prosthetic arm gripped onto your hip to keep you still. “I know..” You huff out, resting your sweaty palms on your girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Let’s fix that, give you the satisfaction you’re clearly needing.” With that, she moved your underwear to the side and immediately slid her finger in. Being wet, you were already lubed up and ready. She took advantage of that and added another one of her big fingers. It filled you up, like.. completely. One more and you’d be streched out like some whore. Even though Sevika would fuck you like one.

Moaning at the movement, you shift your hips to find a comfortable position. Legs spread more evenly, back arched, and head coming to land onto Sevika’s shoulder. “There y’go..” Words murmured into your ear, she began moving. Curling against your g-spot, she slid her fingers in an out.

God, you wish she’d use her strap.

“Be a good bitch and stay still.” You obediently kept your hips still even though they were begging to be shuddered, to be able to tremble. Each in and out had you moaning and filling the living room with your lewd noises. Sevika’s eyes stayed on your figure before her prosthetic arm shifted to grip your tits, twisting your bud with enough pressure to make you whimper. “Sevi, baby..” Voice shaky and barely audible, you couldn’t contain the lewd noise that interrupted your sentence. “Faster?.. please?” — Pleading, you were fucking pleading. Sevika gave you a scoff, smacking your ass with her prosthetic arm before sinking her teeth into the skin of your shoulder. “You dirty little thing.” Was all she said before fastening her pace, even placing a thumb on your clit to give you more than one sensation to deal with. Circular motions on your bud as her two fingers worked inside of you to release the pressure bubbling up.

Each rub, touch, was enough to send you over the edge. But you wanted it to last longer, considering you’d been waiting to be fucked the whole day. Even masterbating didn’t work, your fingers were too slow for your liking. No dirty words were being whispered into your ear, which made the experience boring. Not to mention the absence of your girlfriend’s groans and huffs.

“Y’like that, don’t you?” She groaned inbetween biting and marking your shoulder and neck. “You’re getting fucked harder than this, Princess.” And with that, Sevika gave you the final rub to get you shuddering and whimpering out with pleasure. Arms tightly wrapped around your girlfriend, you cried out. You were at your peak, letting go of the tension in your body and completely melting against your girlfriend. Fingers sliding out, she made sure to clean them off with her mouth. Tongue licking off your cum, Sevika gave your ass a squeeze before pulling you to wrap your legs around her waist. Carrying your weary body towards the bedroom, she made sure to grab her thick strap-on.

Tossing you onto the bed, she stripped you naked with agressive, yet careful tugs. “Let’s see if you last long with a cock up your cunt.” She’d grunt out, taking her time to undress and stare over your perfect figure. Every curve, dip, and turn left her breath to hitch. She, herself, began to undress. Pulling her clothes off her toned and muscular body. The sight had your pussy thirsting for her. Tightening on her strap, she pulled you by the calves and held them up to her shoulders. You were positioned on the edge of the bed, legs spread as you laid on your back with Sevika’s strap dug halfway into your entrance. Enjoying the sight of you, she gave out a smug little grin.

“You’re gorgeous, baby..” Adoration and lust in her husky voice, she tilted her head to bite into your trembling legs. “Wanna see you writhing for me.” With that confession, she thwacked her cock into your pussy and it felt like your body had went numb for a second.

Sevika’s strap was thick, much thicker than her two fingers; which you could barely handle. So, for her to shove something so large in your cunt was new and a little painful.

Whimpering, you bring your shaky hands to your forehead and rest them there, letting your girlfriend thrust deep and hard until the sting of the strech was gone. Sure, it took some time, but afterwards you couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure— literally. You were crying. With each blow, your body was quivering. With your head spinning and heart pounding, you were a mess. “There you go, just like that..” Sevika smiled out, enjoying seeing those tears on your disheveled face. “Cry like the slut you are.” Leaning down to kiss your forehead, she held onto your hips as her thrusts became increasingly deeper, more steady, and stronger. “Fuck.. I.. I’m close!..” Head tilted to the side, you watched as Sevika placed a pillow under your hips.

Immediately, you felt the tip of her strap hitting your weak spot and you immediately gasped. The position was new and you knew for a fact that Sevika had done her research. “Shit.. Vika.. I… it’s too good..” You’d breath out, “S’fuckin’ good..”

You had found your new favourite position.

Hands gripping the sheets, you stare at the visibility of Sevika’s strap in you. You could see the way it went in and out, giving your flesh a bump. “Like seein’ it?” Your girlfriend huffed out, slapping your thighs before fucking you faster. “Yeah..” You nod, your moaned out answer a plead. “You’re fuckin’ filty for this cock, aren’t ya’?” She said, turning your pussy into a sex-toy with how rough she was drilling into it. The pressure was building up, heat pooling in your stomach as your body prepared for the release.

With the few final hammers, you let out a cry as your orgasm hit. Hands covering your face before sevika smacked ‘em away, your hips writhing and shaking at the intensity of your release. She enjoyed every second of your reaction. Furrowed brows, mouth open, eyes shut, cheeks a light red, and voice raspy from straining moans.

Holy fuck, that was probably the best sex you’d ever had.

Sliding out her cum-drenched strap, Sevika pulled your folds apart to see how much she’d streched you out. Your hole was ruined, completely owned by your girlfriend. Just as she liked it.

Body weary and sore, you gasped for air. Yeah, that was the definitely the last round. Head clouded and dizzy, you reach for your girlfriend as she pulled you against her chest with her prosthesis arm. The cool metal making your heated skin stand up with goosebumps. Grabbing a few extra-soft tissues, she wiped you clean. Shaking, you nuzzle into your girlfriend’s neck and breathed in that metallic, sweet smell of hers. You would always crave her smell when she was at work, even spraying some of her old cologne around the apartment to help with the loneliness. Eyes fluttering closed as you let your girlfriend clean you up, she rubbed your back with her flesh hand. Then, Sevika’s thick lips pressed loving and proud kisses on your shoulder and neck. Specifying going over the love-bites she’d left behind from earlier.

Your girlfriend was always good with aftercare, especially after ripping your pussy open, she knew you needed some time to cool down. Relax and regain your energy.

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mephisto-reporting · 20 days ago

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Sorry, I Hurt You: Zayne Edition

Premise: You hurt him with your words and instantly regretted it, tearing up for the things you said, things you could not take back. But in that moment, all he sees is the love you have for him. Inspired by this request. Pairing:Reader x Zayne Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship for this fic. If you would react to this situation differently by saying you would not hurt him, you would not argue, then please know that this fic may not be for you. Life happens and different people react differently. A reader tag isnt a generalisation for this fic. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist. Content warning: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, tears.

Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition | Xavier Edition | Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

Zayne had promised to meet you at 7 p.m., a rare evening carved out of his relentless schedule. But, as always, the world seemed to conspire against you.

At 6:34 p.m., your phone buzzed.

Zayne: Emergency surgery. I’ll be late. I am sorry.

The message was short and direct, like every other text you’d received when he was busy. Not that you minded, because you knew he would be indulgent when he had the time with his gifs and emoji.

You sighed, staring at the glowing screen. Of course, it wasn’t his fault—his job was important, lives depended on him. You knew that. You always knew that. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You: How late?

You waited, watching the little "typing…" bubble appear and disappear a few times before his reply came in.

Zayne: I’m not sure.

You: Ill wait for you, Dr. Zayne 😉

The knot in your chest tightened. You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, staring at the clock on the wall. 7:00 p.m. came and went. By 8:30, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the room in shades of blue and gray. By 10:00, your patience was fraying.

Your thoughts spiraled. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you spent more than a few uninterrupted hours together. If it wasn’t the hospital, it was a conference, or research, or some far-flung medical camp in the middle of nowhere. You understood—he wasn’t just a doctor, he was the doctor, the youngest cardiologist in Linkon City, and his work saved lives. But no amount of understanding could temper the weight of the empty hours that stretched between you tonight. It wasn’t just tonight. This was a pattern, a cycle you’d grown used to but never quite accepted.

But waiting was a lonely affair. Life had been stressful for you, too. Work, finances, personal struggles—everything felt like it was crashing down. And now, the one person you longed to lean on, to feel close to, seemed so far away. Was it selfish to want his presence? To crave a moment of his time? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you missed him. Missed you both.

By midnight, the frustration was a storm you couldn’t contain. You told yourself you’d wait but every tick of the analog clock that Zayne liked was like chalk grating against the blackboard. :00 a.m. The city outside your window was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of passing cars. 1:45 a.m. The words you wanted to say twisted in your chest, growing heavier. 2:23 a.m. The lock turned.

The sound of the lock turning startled you. Zayne stepped inside, his movements deliberate and quiet as he placed his bag down and shrugged off his coat.

“You’re awake…” he said softly, his sharp eyes flicking to you as you sat up on the couch.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice flat. “I’ve been waiting. I wanted to see you. How was the surgery?”

“It went well,” he said simply. “Complicated, but the patient stabilized.”

“That’s good,” you said, your voice tight. “Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head. “I grabbed something at the hospital earlier. I’m fine.”

Fine. He always said that. No matter how long the day, no matter how much he’d pushed himself, it was always, I’m fine.

“Zayne…” you began, your tone already edged with the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You’ve been on your feet for hours. You need to take care of yourself too, you know.”

“I do,” he replied, his tone even, almost dismissive. “We can talk about it tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

And there it was—the spark that lit the fire.

“Rest?” You repeated the word, your voice incredulous. “You think I can just ‘rest’ after sitting here for hours waiting for you? Do you even realize what this feels like, Zayne? It’s like I don’t even exist in your life anymore!”

His brows furrowed at your outburst, a hint of confusion on his face.

“I know your job is important,” you continued, your voice shaking. “I know what you do saves lives, and I’ve tried so hard to be understanding. But do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like you’re always second? To feel like you’re not even a priority?”

“Wait.” he interjected, his tone calm but firm. “I didn’t say you weren’t a priority—”

“No, you didn’t say it,” you interrupted, your anger flaring hotter now. “But it feels that way, Zayne. Every time you miss a dinner, every time you come home at some ungodly hour, it feels like I’m just… here. Waiting. Always waiting. Do you even realize how long it’s been since we’ve had a real conversation? Since we’ve actually spent time together?”

His brows furrowed deeper. “You know my job doesn’t exactly allow for flexibility.”

“Your job,” you spat, the words laced with bitterness. “It’s always about your job. And I get it, okay? I do. You’re saving lives, and that’s incredible. But when was the last time you asked about mine?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. The words poured out, sharp and unrelenting.

“Do you have any idea how lonely it’s been? I’m not even sure I’m a part of your life anymore!”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw the shock flicker across his face. His usually stoic expression cracked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Your heart thudded painfully as the weight of what you’d said sank in. “Zayne, I—” Your voice faltered, tears welling up. “I didn’t mean that. I swear I didn’t mean that.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his silence somehow heavier than any words he could’ve spoken.

The room fell silent except for the quiet hitch of your breath. You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to stem the tears, but they came anyway, hot and unstoppable.

Your chest tightened as the tears spilled over. “I’m sorry…” you choked out, the apology tumbling from your lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just… I don’t know. Everything’s been so overwhelming, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I know how much your work means to you, I really do. I’m just… I’m tired, Zayne.”

ZAYNE’S POV

Her words hung in the air, each one slicing deeper than the last. I’m not even sure I’m a part of your life anymore.

Was that really how she felt? Had he really been so consumed by his work that he’d made her feel this way?

He swallowed hard, guilt tightening in his chest. Of course, she was right. He’d assumed her silence meant she understood, that she was okay with the late nights and missed dates. But now, looking at her, he realized just how deeply he’d been wrong.

And then came her tears.

He’d seen people cry before—patients, families, even his colleagues. But her tears were different. They weren’t just borne of hurt; they carried guilt, love, and something raw and unfiltered. She wasn’t angry at him. She was hurting for him, even as she blamed herself. “I’m not making excuses. I just... I’ve been trying to be strong for so long, trying to understand, but tonight... I just felt... alone. I didn’t mean it. I swear. You don’t deserve to hear that from me. I love you so much, and I feel terrible for even saying something so awful.”

The anger in her voice born from exhaustion, frustration, a sense of abandonment, had shocked him, yes. But now, as her words turned to apologies, all he could see was how deeply she cared for him. Through the raw tears, through the pain and self-accusation in her voice, all he could see was how much she loved him. It was clear as day, even when she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, even as she buried her face in her hands.

Her words tumbled out in a rush, desperate, as though she needed to undo everything with an apology. She wasn’t angry anymore, no. She was so sorry, and it hurt him more than anything else could. He felt his heart crack, the guilt swirling like a blizzard, and without thinking, he moved toward her, instinct pulling him into action.

“Don’t cry...” he murmured, stepping closer. His voice was softer now, tinged with something almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t mean it, Zayne. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I just—tonight was hard, and I—”

“Stop.” His hands came up to gently frame her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that refused to stop. “You don’t have to apologize.” The way her shoulders shook with each sob, the desperation in her voice—it all spoke of someone who loved so fiercely that even the slightest hint of causing harm to the one she loved shattered her entirely.

“But I do,” she insisted, her voice cracking. “I was upset, but that doesn’t make it okay for me to say something like that to you. You didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry, Zayne. I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I’m just… so tired, and everything feels so heavy. I know how much your work means to you. I know it’s important, but… but I said those things, and that’s not okay.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and it cut through him like a scalpel. The rawness of her pain, the way her hands shook as she tried to wipe away her tears—it gutted him. He stepped closer and gently took her hands, stilling their movement. “Stop,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Please, stop apologizing.”

But she didn’t. She kept going, as if she needed him to hear every ounce of her sorrow, every misplaced thought born from exhaustion and frustration. “Just because I’m in a bad place doesn’t mean I can take it out on you. It doesn’t make it okay to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry—”

“Enough,” Zayne said, firmer this time, his hands tightening around hers. He closed the distance between them, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes searched hers, even as his own unshed tears blurred his vision. “I hear you. And I forgive you. You don’t need to say another word. You are important to me. Do you hear me? You always have been.”

He pulled her into his arms, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. The tension in her body melted into his embrace as he cradled her close. He felt her sobs against his chest, the dampness of her tears seeping through his shirt, and his heart ached in a way that no medical textbook could ever describe. It was a mix of regret, love, and an overwhelming need to protect the person in his arms.

When he tilted her face up to his, his thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek to catch the fresh tears, his lips found hers in a kiss that spoke the words he couldn’t say. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, but deep and deliberate—a melding of emotions. He tasted the salt of her tears, felt the softness of her lips trembling against his. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there as if letting go might shatter everything. It wasn’t about passion, not this time. It was a deep, desperate need to remind her, remind himself, that she was still here. That no matter how far he had drifted, they were still together.

This is how much she loves me, Zayne thought, as her lips pressed harder against his, the urgency building. This is how much she needs me. Even when she’s hurting, even when she’s angry, she still reaches for me, still tries to make things right.

In that moment, everything was stripped bare. There were no walls, no facades. Just him and her. His kiss was a vow, an apology, and a promise all at once. When he finally pulled back, his lips still ghosting over hers, he murmured, “I’ve been a fool. I am sorry too. I should have been here, with you. I should have made time for you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering through the tears. “Zayne—”

“All these days, I thought I was going home after work,” he continued, his voice low and weighted with emotion. “But it wasn’t home. It was just a house. This… this is home. You’re my home.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, his hands still framing her face. “I’m taking the weekend off. No conferences, no surgeries, no calls. Just us.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped her. “You mean it?”

“I do,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Even if I have to tie myself to this couch to prove it.”

She chuckled softly, and he felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice breaking the stillness. “I miss us. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important. You are. You’re everything.” And that was the truth. All that mattered now was her. She was his home, his heart, his everything. And he would make sure she knew that every single day.

A soft sigh of relief escaped her, and she relaxed into him, the tension in her body finally easing. And Zayne, for the first time in a long while, allowed himself to rest. He closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat against his chest, and he knew that no matter what else life brought him, this was all he needed. This was home.

And he was never going to let her feel unimportant again.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition | Xavier Edition | Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

Taglist: @cordidy

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the-kr8tor · 3 months ago

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Hiiii 🤭

Hopping here to request a Reader x Ekko where they're just two love birds and R sneaks into his "office" because she just missed him :( and then one thing leads to another and they're kinda carried away by each other.. that until duty calls up and R watches Ekko switching from loving future husband to the Leader of the Firelights

Love you!!!

Hihihi thank you sm bleaky for the idea!!! Another fic straight from our dms 🤭 I hope you like it, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, reader is a childhood friend turned lover, Firelight! Reader, lovestruck! Ekko, no s2 spoiler, cw suggestive, FLUFF!

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ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The hoverboard whirrs softly from under you, with the moonlight peeking through the leaves of the beloved tree, bathing you in its dappled silver glow. The breeze carries ashen smoke amidst the scent of sweet dew filled flowers.

You lean forward slightly, guiding the board gently towards the open window of the tree house where a certain someone is burning the midnight oil on his workbench. You perch yourself over the window, careful not to make any noise as you slither your way inside. Hopefully staying as a surprise for Ekko.

He felt you before he heard your grunt and the unmistakable sound of your head bumping on the windowsill. Smiling tiredly, he twists in his chair to look at you fondly while you cradle your poor head from the recent bump.

“You know I gave you a key for a reason.” You can practically hear his amusement from his tone.

“Where's the fun in that?” You chuckle, palm patting at the blooming headache. “I thought I'd surprise you.”

Ekko roams his eyes over you as your smirk grows wider with every second he ogles you. “I think you forgot the surprise.” He points at your empty hands, tilting his head to the side in case you've got something hidden behind you.

“Ekko, I'm the surprise.” You wink at him, arms raised to your sides in a ‘here I am’ gesture. He shakes his head with a smile, watching you as you saunter towards him. “You should be asleep.” Your hand finds its place on his cheek, he looks up at you, eyes soft under the warm light of the desk lamp. He leans against your touch, lamenting at the way you gently scratch at his nape. “You can do this once you get some rest. Your board will still be here tomorrow.”

He swears he can fall asleep with your tender touch and voice lulling him to slumber. “I can't,” he sighs, reluctantly pulling away from you to return his attention towards his board that glows softly with green light. “we have something planned early tomorrow.”

Your heart softens for him and his determination. “Am I part of that something something?” Sitting down on his desk, far enough to give him space to work but close enough for you to poke his leg with your foot.

“Not this time,” he glances at you, finding you huffing in place as he screws in the blades tightly. “You still got that shoulder thing.”

“This shoulder thing is alright now.” He raises a brow at you, head shaking lightly. You sigh, surrendering. “Fine, it's acting up again, but it's technically better.” Ekko hums in reply, elbow deep inside the hoverboard. “Kind of. Can I at least help? I don't like feeling useless.”

His hand cups your knee, thumbs tracing swirls on your skin. You can feel how warm his hand is from under his glove. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?” Smirking, he pats you once before returning his hand back to his work as you pout and huff at him. “And you're never useless. You're still healing, trouble. I don't want you getting hurt out there because of a busted shoulder.” A flash of you falling off your board with a sickening crunch fills his vision with dread. He turns towards you fully, tapping his wrench on the wooden table, and gentle eyes softening up at your features. “You'll have your time, I promise.”

You nod, watching as the green hue flickers over his concerned face. “Okay, but you owe me.” You cross your leg over the other while he smiles and turns towards his machine again.

“How many IOUs is that now?” He asks, glancing between you and the board.

You nudge him with your foot, “too many, Ekko.” You say his name with a sing-song lilt, effectively taking his attention. “What?” With a teasing smile, he stares at you wordlessly.

“You're distracting me.” His eyes follows the curve of your jaw up to your lips. Heart stuck in his throat, and eyes glued onto the soft skin. He lays his tools down. Abandoning it immediately.

“Oh,” your shoulders slump slightly. “I'll leave, just get some sleep, okay?” Hopping down, Ekko stops you with his hand on your thigh. “You need something?” You place your hand above his own as he squeezes you.

“Yeah, sit back down for me?” He says it seriously, as if he needs to talk to you about something important.

You straighten up, following his instructions. The desk creaks under your form, and as you wait for his very important words, he stands up from his seat, kicking it away before cradling your face gently in his gloved hands. The rough fabric sits on your cheek, but his touch is softer as he gazes at you with those eyes you've always loved ever since you two were still running around playing pretend.

“Now you're the one distracting me.” You whisper, index looping around his overalls to pull him towards you. Placing him in between your legs, as he leans forward with his head tilted slightly to find the perfect angle of your lips. “What were you saying, Ekko?” Teasing, he inhales deeply, lips merely an inch from your own.

“Let me…?” He says before you crash your lips against his own, answering his cut off question. Your eyes close as he smiles, mirroring your expression. You both kiss in sync, hearts beating in the same pace.

You hear him chuckle softly as your lips fall into a medley of rhythm with his desperate kisses. The kiss runs deep and long, teeth clashing, noses meeting, and hands caressing every angle of you as your own hands roam up his bare and lean arms, until you find penchant on the back of his head. Fingers weaved around his hair, not pulling away, no, pushing him further against you as the air grows hotter around you with every breath you take.

You're home in his arms. And all you can think about is him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your slightly agaped lips, leaning away for a moment to take in air and to remove his gloves to feel you fully.

You stare at him through half lidded eyes, cheeks searing hot and stomach throbbing with ache. “Yeah...” Your voice is shaky at best, legs wrapping around him whilst your chest heaves.

Just as you say it, he meets with your lips once again, taking your breath away as you give it willingly. This time it's softer and gentler as he kisses you tenderly. Your head hits the wall with how much he's kissing you, so with his palm sliding behind your head, he cushions you from the blow as he continues to kiss you fervently as if he hasn't gotten a taste of you in years.

“Ekko.” You sigh out as he kisses the curve of your lips, tracing its shape with his own. “Ekko.” Your tone grows breathlessly as he slowly makes his way towards your throat. “Ekko—” His lips were just about meeting with your warm skin when a knock interrupts you both. “Shit.”

“Damn it.” He murmurs, chest heaving, pupils blown out as he gives you one quick kiss against the side of your neck. Definitely not the final one.

You pat his cheek with a lopsided smile, thumb brushing along his kiss bitten lips, wiping away the sheen you've left. Ekko pecks your thumb before moving away from you. He fixes your rumpled shirt, just as you notice that you've smudged the white hourglass paint on his face. Whoops.

“Ekko, you've got…” you gesture towards his nose, trying to tamp down your laughter.

His blown out eyes widens, lungs still trying to intake oxygen from the strenuous activity. His nose scrunches up when he sees you having the same smudged paint on your face. Smile tamped down by biting his lip.

He looks behind you, where a small mirror is hanging just beside your head. He sees himself looking disheveled, hair sticking all over the place, face paint smudged into an odd shape.

Chuckling, the knocking grows louder. “I've got you, don't worry. I won't let your reputation get tarnished.” You take a handkerchief from your pocket, effectively wiping away the smudged mess on his face as much as you can.

“Did you get it?” He's still breathless when he asked.

“And…there. I've got them all.” You get a thankful peck on your cheek for a job well done.

But before he could move away from you, he takes the handkerchief in his hand to wipe at your (his) own smudged face paint. He tucks the fabric away in his pocket, maybe you'll come looking for it one day, effectively giving you an excuse to come visit him sooner rather than later.

Ekko now moves away, clearing his throat but the evidence of your shared previous activity is still evident on how much he inhales and how his hands are so clammy that he can water the tree with the sweat on his palms.

“C–come in.” He curses under his breath at how his voice cracked at the start. The door squeaks open, revealing his right hand man, Scar, waiting at the doorway.

His golden eyes glance at you, Ekko hides your equally disheveled form with his body, blocking your obviously kissed lips and your rumpled clothes. Scar raises a knowing brow, eyes speaking a thousand words.

“Hi, Y/N.” He says gruffly, lips subtly curled into a smirk. You wave shyly above Ekko, afraid that you'd let out incoherent words while you're still reeling from his warmth. “I can come back later.”

Ekko’s seriously considering it. “Is it important?”

“Everything's important with you Ekko.” Scar's eyes turn towards you with the word ‘important.’

Ekko sighs, slightly disappointed. “Right, what happened?”

His whole demeanor changes into what most people would think when they hear about the notorious leader of the firelights. His posture straightens up, and the air around him oozes authority. The man in front of you isn't just Ekko, your love and confidant, he's Ekko, the feared leader of the firelights, and the boy saviour. But you can still see his previous sweetness from how his eyes still smile when he remembers your soft lips upon his own. He's still your Ekko through and through.

“It's the chem barons, they blew out an entire building.” Scar briefs him, and you read the room as their conversation grows more serious.

If you listen to any more, you'd want to join in so you decide to leave before you could give your two cents like always. Ekko was right, your shoulder wouldn't help much with a full blown fight. So you're just gonna stay away, for now at least, until you're fully healed to be of help. For his sanity and your wellbeing.

You take a deep breath, still heaving from his kisses, hopping down from the table even with your wobbly legs. Ekko looks at you in the middle of the conversation, hand reaching out in case you fall down. Scar watches with amusement at the scene in front of him.

“I'm good,” you say quietly only for Ekko to hear. “We'll continue this later, okay?” You say louder this time for both of them to hear. With a wink, and a hand grazing his back, you leave him standing there, aghast at what you've blatantly said.

His own mind betrays him at how *later could go. Ekko has to hold onto the chair next to him to stabilize himself lest he melts in front of Scar, who's absolutely trying to reel his laughter in that he's about to pop a vein on his forehead from how hard he's trying.

As you close the door behind you, you hear his booming laughter and Ekko's unmistakable groaning behind the door.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

#request done #the kr8tor's creations #ekko x reader #ekko arcane #arcane ekko #arcane ekko x reader #ekko imagines #ekko fanfic #ekko fanfiction #ekko x you #ekko x fem! reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane x reader #ekko arcane x reader #ekko fluff #arcane fluff #x reader #fanfiction

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rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

Note

Omg god can you please do a forced marriage au. Where reader is being weirdly clingy(Ik it doesn’t really fit her vibe) and rafe’s weirded out. And she kisses him unexpectedly and he’s so confused.

Drunk kisses || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: fluffy fic which ik all of you have been wanting in this au so u are welcome ;)

Warnings: none really just fluff

Word count: 2,380

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Rafe barely glanced up from his laptop when the front doorbell rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet of the house, but he quickly resumed typing, thinking nothing of it at first. It rang again, more insistently this time, drawing his attention. He frowned, closing his laptop and glancing toward the hallway.

"Anita?" he called out, expecting the familiar shuffle of the housekeeper’s footsteps. But silence greeted him in return. He checked his watch—it was past midnight. Of course, everyone had gone home by now.

With a frustrated sigh, Rafe stood and headed toward the foyer, the steady ringing making him wonder who could possibly be at their door at such an ungodly hour. He glanced at the small display screen by the entrance, his brow furrowing at the sight of you. You were slumped against your sister, who looked like she was struggling to hold you upright. Rafe’s confusion deepened as he swung open the door.

Before he could say anything, you staggered forward, collapsing right into his arms. Charlotte let out a startled gasp, covering her mouth in shock as Rafe instinctively caught you, his hands gripping your waist to steady you. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath, trying to process what was happening. You looked up at him with a lazy, drunken smile, the scent of alcohol heavy on your breath.

The sight of you—usually so composed and poised—now giggling like a carefree girl was jarring. “Oh, look, Lottie! It’s my husband. My gorgeous husb—” you slurred, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you tried to blow a strand of hair away from your face. But before you could finish, Rafe cut you off, his annoyance already simmering beneath the surface.

"How much did you let her drink?" he snapped, turning his icy blue gaze toward Charlotte. There was disbelief in his voice, a hint of something protective and yet frustrated. You had been out of control before, but never like this. “I—I tried,” Charlotte stammered, her face flushed with guilt. “I gave her something else—”

“What? More alcohol?” Rafe’s tone was sharp, and Charlotte flinched under his harsh words. He couldn’t believe it. You were usually guarded, careful—this wasn’t like you at all. Rafe glanced down at you again, a mixture of irritation and concern flashing across his face as you leaned further into him, still smiling like the world was spinning too slowly for you.

"We're supposed to have breakfast with your parents tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw clenched, the thought of having to face them with you like this filling him with dread. As much as he loathed the idea of those formal meals, they mattered in your world—the perfect image you were both supposed to maintain.

Rafe struggled to keep you upright, your legs barely cooperating as you leaned heavily against him, still giggling softly. His frustration flared again, and he shot a sharp glance at Charlotte, who stood frozen in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. “How the hell did this even happen?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous.

Charlotte hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “She… she just kept ordering more drinks. I tried to stop her, I swear, but she insisted. And, well, you know how stubborn she can get.” Rafe let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I know." He looked down at you as you murmured something incoherent, your fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.

"And you didn’t think to call me? Or at least cut her off?” “I—” Charlotte started but quickly swallowed her words when Rafe’s icy gaze met hers again. "I thought she'd sober up. I didn’t want to make a scene… and she kept saying she was fine." "Clearly, she’s not fine," Rafe snapped, his tone sharp as he adjusted his grip on you, trying to stop you from slipping further down his side.

“You should’ve stopped her. God, Charlotte, you know we have that damn breakfast tomorrow.” Charlotte’s eyes widened as if realising the gravity of the situation all over again. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I really didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand…” Rafe clenched his jaw, his patience thinning with each passing second. “Well, it did. And now I have to deal with this.” He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly on your waist as he hoisted you up a little higher.

“Mmm… Rafe," you mumbled softly, your head lolling against his chest. “You're always so serious.” Your words slurred together, and you let out another soft laugh, as if this entire situation was some kind of joke. Rafe's brow furrowed, his annoyance tempered for a moment by the sight of you so completely out of character. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—carefree, uninhibited, and honestly, it unnerved him.

“You should go home, Charlotte,” Rafe finally said, his voice quieter now but still holding that authoritative edge. “I’ll take care of her.” Your sister looked hesitant, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. "Are you sure? I can help—" "No, just go. You've done enough." His tone left no room for argument, and Charlotte sighed in defeat, giving him a small nod before stepping back toward the door.

“I really am sorry,” she murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She cast one last glance at you, who was now resting your head against Rafe’s chest, your arms loosely draped around his neck. Rafe didn’t respond, his attention now fully on you as Charlotte finally made her exit.

The front door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit foyer. You stirred in his arms, blinking up at him with bleary eyes, the remnants of your smile still lingering. “You always look so serious, Rafe,” you whispered, your words thick with exhaustion. “Why can’t you just… relax?” Rafe sighed deeply, his frustration mixing with an odd sense of helplessness.

He wasn’t used to feeling like this—torn between annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite place. "Because someone has to be," he muttered, more to himself than to you. You giggled again, leaning your forehead against his chest. “Maybe I should be serious too, then. Like you. So we can both be… boring together.” You laughed softly at your own words, your fingers tracing absentminded circles on his chest.

Rafe’s lips twitched again, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through his usually stoic expression. You were a mess, slurring your words and giggling like a child, but in the soft, dim glow of the foyer, you looked undeniably beautiful. Strands of hair framed your face in a way that made you seem even more delicate, your skin glowing faintly under the soft lighting.

For a fleeting moment, he found himself captivated by how vulnerable and unguarded you appeared—so different from the strong-willed woman he was used to. But he quickly shook the thought away, forcing himself to stay focused. This was not the time to get caught up in sentiment. “You’re drunk,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, though still touched with that same gentleness that had snuck in earlier.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed before you say something else you’ll regret.” His eyes lingered on your face, watching as your expression shifted from amusement to a peaceful kind of daze. The way you leaned further into him, trusting him completely in your intoxicated state, stirred something unexpected within him—an unfamiliar blend of protectiveness and tenderness.

It unsettled him, but he pushed it aside, convincing himself it was just the responsibility of the moment. You hummed softly, your eyes fluttering closed, a contented sigh slipping past your lips. “Mmm… my gorgeous husband, taking care of me,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying a playful edge that made Rafe’s heart beat a little faster.

Even drunk, you were still testing him, still finding a way to get under his skin. He rolled his eyes, though there was no real malice behind it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m your gorgeous husband,” he muttered, half-exasperated, half-amused as he tightened his grip on you, making sure you were secure in his arms. “Let’s just focus on getting you upstairs in one piece.”

You chuckled softly, your head resting more comfortably against his chest, your breath warm against the fabric of his shirt. “Always so serious…” you mumbled, your voice trailing off as sleep began to claim you. Rafe glanced down at you again, shaking his head slightly. Even in this state, you still managed to get to him. He started moving toward the stairs, his steps careful as he balanced your weight against his own.

Rafe opened the door to your shared room, his movements steady as he guided you into the closet. “Here, you should get changed into something more comfortable,” he murmured, opening a drawer and pulling out one of his shirts—a soft, oversized one you often stole when you didn’t want to bother with your own clothes. He handed it to you, watching as your tired gaze shifted toward the shirt before flickering back to him.

“Can… can you help me take my dress off?” you muttered, barely audible, your voice tinged with exhaustion and the alcohol that still clouded your thoughts. You gave him those wide, pleading doe eyes that always managed to catch him off guard. Rafe inhaled sharply but quickly nodded. He’d seen you like this before—unguarded, your skin bare, but it never failed to stir something in him.

It wasn’t the sight of your skin that unsettled him; he was used to that. Over time, in this strange forced marriage, he’d grown accustomed to the intimacy of shared space, of your body in close proximity. It was the trust you displayed, the way you asked for his help now, that threw him off balance. You turned around, shifting your hair to one side, exposing the zipper of your dress.

Rafe reached for it, fingers grazing your back as he slowly pulled the zipper down, the fabric sliding easily off your shoulders. His eyes briefly flickered to the dress, a slight frown on his face—it was shorter than he liked, something he wasn’t thrilled about you wearing out. But now, as you stepped out of it, all he could think about was how fragile you looked.

You grabbed the shirt from his hands and pulled it over your head, the soft cotton falling past your thighs as you kicked off your heels with a relieved sigh. Rafe watched you for a moment longer before quietly guiding you toward the bathroom. He rummaged through the drawer, pulling out your toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste onto it before handing it to you. You brushed your teeth lazily, your movements growing slower as your eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling in.

Rafe stood by, waiting until you were done before helping you back to the bed. Just as your body sank into the soft sheets, ready to drift off into sleep, he lightly patted your cheek, keeping you from completely fading. "Uh-uh, gotta get that makeup off, or you'll throw a fit tomorrow morning," Rafe teased, reaching for the wipes on your vanity. You groaned in protest, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I won’t.”

“Yes, you will,” Rafe retorted, walking back over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He began gently wiping the makeup from your face, his touch careful and methodical. He had done this before, knew the routine, and though the task was mundane, there was an unspoken closeness in these moments that neither of you ever acknowledged.

He returned to the bed, sitting beside you as he carefully wiped away the layers of makeup. His touch was gentle, more considerate than you expected, his brow furrowed in concentration as he made sure to remove every trace. You gazed up at him through heavy lids, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin and the softness of his gestures.

When he was done, he moved to pull away, but your fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him. Rafe looked at you, confusion briefly crossing his face, but the intensity in your gaze softened him. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice tender, vulnerable in a way it rarely was. Your eyes drifted to his lips, your heart picking up speed as the moment stretched between you.

Rafe swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he nodded, his voice hushed. “Of course.” Without another word, you gently pulled him closer, closing the space between you. Your lips met his in a slow, tentative kiss—an action that felt more like a quiet confession than anything else. Rafe stiffened at first, but then his lips moved against yours, soft yet firm, as though the weight of the night had brought you both to this point.

But he pulled back after a moment, his eyes searching yours for something he wasn’t even sure of. “Get some sleep,�� he whispered, pulling the sheets up to tuck you in. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual before he stood, leaving the room without another glance.

—

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains as you slowly lifted your head from the pillow, a dull throb of pain radiating through your temples. You winced, squinting against the brightness as the events of the previous night came flooding back—Charlotte, the drinks, Rafe helping you to bed, and… the kiss.

You stirred slightly, feeling the sheets move beside you. Glancing over, you saw Rafe’s sleeping form, his features relaxed. He lay facing you, still half-asleep, though he must have sensed your movement because he mumbled groggily, “On your bedside table.”

You turned, spotting the glass of water and the medicine waiting for you. A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pounding in your head. Even when his words were rough, his actions showed a softness you were beginning to see more often.

You reached for the water and pills, the gesture not lost on you. As you downed the water, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, wondering if, beneath all the tension and complications between you, something deeper had started to bloom.

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honeyhotteoks · 5 months ago

Text

under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus.

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it.

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space.

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair.

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten?

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest.

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour.

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted.

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner.

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation.

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his.

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you.

Sleep.

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed.

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip.

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,”

Your muscles soften.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes.

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this.

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,”

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands.

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,”

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase.

“That’s a good girl,”

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words.

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips.

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again.

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?”

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen.

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking.

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath.

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure.

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale.

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?”

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.”

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest.

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?”

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,”

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours.

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties.

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly.

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

“My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?”

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,”

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,”

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been.

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

“Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,”

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it.

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,”

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly.

“Don’t you?”

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit.

“Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

“That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place.

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job.

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?”

“Yes,” You manage.

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?”

“Please,”

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,”

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?”

“Touch you where?”

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips.

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?”

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,”

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling.

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it.

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do.

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him.

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,”

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest.

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan.

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars.

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks.

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh.

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest.

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside.

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.”

You shiver, your core pulsing again.

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,”

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder.

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.”

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now.

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,”

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you.

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,”

Just like before, the world falls away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his.

Needy girl.

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt.

Rutting yourself on my thigh.

Were you?

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly.

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now.

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch.

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,”

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light.

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,”

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed.

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster.

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,”

A sharp exhale leaves your lips.

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,”

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again.

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,”

Your breath quickens.

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,”

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.

A whimper passes through your slack lips.

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,”

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters.

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,”

Your breath hitches.

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,”

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you.

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud.

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands.

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,”

You feel your stomach clench at the thought.

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,”

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words.

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?”

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside.

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours.

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him.

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,”

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control.

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,”

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

“You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap.

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,”

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,”

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you.

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat.

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure.

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,”

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure.

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans.

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,”

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions.

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,”

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down.

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you.

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again.

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,”

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,”

Your head snaps back up.

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest.

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,”

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck.

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?”

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal.

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more.

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?”

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,”

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,”

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,”

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him.

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him.

“If I was I’d never admit it,”

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh.

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,”

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion.

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his.

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue.

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,”

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly.

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered.

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat.

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat.

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,”

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,”

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…”

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,”

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release.

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,”

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,”

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more.

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,”

He shudders, groaning.

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,”

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms.

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,”

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,”

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment.

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you.

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,”

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips.

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.”

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks.

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently.

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious.

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin.

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to.

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time.

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,”

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,”

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck.

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,”

“I think that’s a perfect idea,”

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,”

You nod, relaxing into his care.

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?”

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?”

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips.

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?”

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,”

“I’m simply curious,” You tease.

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?”

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?”

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again.

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,”

#love and deepspace #lnds #love and deepspace fic #lnds ff #lnds fic #lnds smut #sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus qin #sylus ff #sylus smut #sylus fic #honeyhotteoks fic

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sh1-n0bu · 7 months ago

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♡︎ 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙! ♡︎

characters: sub!yandere!AFAB!characters x dom!gn!reader

warnings: character uses he/him pronouns but has female genitalia/tcock (words such as pussy, vagina, cunt will be used), character is transmale, reader has you/your pronouns, cock/strap, yandere character, established relationship, protected sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that folks), breeding, creampie, belly bulge, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death and light torture

notes: you can think of any character you want with this fic, i just had a wild thought during a car ride at my vacation. divider from @/cafekitsune

yandere! husband who has been in love with you since they first met you. what started out as a simple fascination developed into an unhealthy obsession until he finally got the courage to ask you out on an official date

yandere! husband who gets surprised when you accept his ask for a date, sheepishly smiling as you tell him that you found him pretty and had been building up the courage to do the same. who nearly fall into his knees right then and there with sheer nervousness yet also giddiness at your confession, finding the wobbly smile on your face endearing

yandere! husband who gradually built a stable relationship with you over time. there were moments where he thought of just drugging you up and stealing you away to keep you all to himself but he chastised himself for such thoughts when you have been nothing but loyal and honest. he thought of killing those annoying bitches and assholes who tried to hit on you or blatantly flirted with you in front of him, imagining cutting out their tongue and burning their eyes with scolding hot iron only to snap back to the present when your hand wound around his waist, introducing him as your lover excitedly

yandere! husband who got scared when you accidentally walked in while he was changing after a shower, terrified that you will leave him after having seen his top scars and cunt. who could hear his heartbeat in his own ears, rapidly beating like a frightened bird thrown into a cage while he waited your reaction. who try to apologize only to be cut off with your comforting words and accepting hug

yandere! husband who proposed to you first, getting on both of his knees as he presented you the ring in the box. who lets out a sweet laugh when you kneel down in return, showing your own ring that you bought for him

yandere! husband who definitely cried on your wedding, wiping away his tears silently as he turns his back to you, not wanting you to see him in such a weak and vulnerable state. turning back to you with the wet handkerchief still in his hand, who can feel the tears coming back once again as he sees your knowing look and comforting smile

yandere! husband who is happy with your married life. the new adventures of moving into a new house, decorating it to your liking and modifying your rooms being an exciting life for him. he loved the moments where you two put paint of each other’s faces instead of painting the walls, choosing the colors on complete random with an eeny, meeny, mini, mo game, dancing with you bare feet in the kitchen as you both wait for the water to boil for the cup ramen at midnight. he would want to hold your hand in his own, the wedding rings clicking against each other softly as he giggles

yandere! husband who wants to try for a baby after years into the marriage. it was a surprise to him how he managed to wait patiently for so long after your marriage. while he wanted desperately to get himself knocked up at the night of consummation of your marriage, he understood your wishes to wait until the perfect time. finally, he thinks it is the perfect timing, after years of protected sex and daydreams of feeling his cunt get filled, tells you of his plan

yandere! husband who purposefully poked a tiny hole into every condom there is at your home, who huffs a fake annoyed noise whenever the material tears as you try to put it around your strap. he may have a pout on his face and talk about trying it raw on the outside but on the inside he is fucking giddy. he wants to feel your cock constantly pushing into his wet pussy walls so bad and he couldn’t help but curse silently under his breath when you take out a lone condom that was thankfully reserved in the pockets of one of your pants

yandere! husband who suggests on riding you instead of taking it as usual. a sudden change in your usual sex life but you didn’t mind trying new things out. laying on your back, you watch and let out occasional groans and low moans as you see how his sweet pussy swallows you whole, the fat of his ass higgling every time he bounces himself on your strap, asking you to slap and squeeze it. which you do gladly, lightly slapping as the jiggling flesh, making your husband giggle

yandere! husband who gets annoyed as the feeling of the condom around your cock, skillfully bouncing himself until he ‘accidentally’ slips your strap out. he swears it was the amount of lube you used, grabbing your cock with his hand and tapping his dripping pussy with the tip. your husband who makes a show, wiggling his hips as he slides the tip inside and sinking down until he feels full again. not yet, he thinks to himself, knowing that you would get suspicious if he tries his plan too early on

yandere! husband who keeps ‘accidentally’ slipping your strap out of his gushing cunt, whining until his patience finally ends. the next time it slips out, his fingers pinch at the tip of the wet condom, pulling on the material with a pout and a mumbled “it’s in the way..” until it comes off with a lewd pop!

yandere! husband who disregards your frantic words of protection and taking a second for you to put on another one, turning around to face you now as he sinks down onto your strap with one move. the feeling of your own cock, without any annoying latex in the way making him cream around your fat cockhead instantly, a drawn out satisfied whine falling from his lips

yandere! husband who clenches around your strap on purpose every time he moves. his hands guiding yours to touch his chest, the top scars that healed beautifully and to squeeze and fondle his nipples “u-until i sta—anngh ah haagh mmgh♡︎! start to lactate, just like your sweet baby momma uungh♥︎!!” while his pretty pussy squeezes your strap like a vice, unwilling to let go or not even daring to think so. he wanted to feel your cum, hot seeds painting his walls white and making his legs shake

yandere! husband who silences your weak protests for a protection with a messy kiss. noses knocking together, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and wanting to ‘connect’ with you on a deeper level. he wanted everything you have to offer and seeing the small trail of saliva left behind as you pulled back for a gasping breath made him giggle deliriously

yandere! husband who increases his pace when he hears you struggling to talk, words of cumming together coming out in a jumbled mess as he sits himself fully in your lap. pushing your pelvises together until no gap was between them, throwing his head back with a satisfied mewl when he finally feels it. that warmth he’s been craving so long, filling up his womb, mixing with his love juice as the excessive mixed cum drops down your strap

yandere! husband who gets pushed into his back, legs pushed up and over until his knees were beside his head. put into a mating press with your annoyed face staring down at him just made him clench around you, a drunk giggle of your name falling from his lips. he gladly spreads his weeping pussy open further, with you still inside him, letting you see the mess you two made

yandere! husband who drops his act entirely, wiggling his hips with heart shaped pupils as he asks you to breed him. cum inside him as many times as you want, he wants a baby with you, it’s about time you two take your relationship to the next level. “i’ll be a good baby momma… and you’re already a wonderful lover who would become a wonderful parent. come on [name], breed me full of your seeds♥︎”

yandere! husband who gets fucked thoroughly to his wish. crying out all sorts of filthy words every time your cock sinks back into his cunt. thin drools on his chin, old tear stains constantly being replaced by new ones as his pussy clenches around you for the nth time, forcing you to cum earlier than you usually does. overwhelming amount of your mixed cum wetting the bedsheets, your thighs and his own as well as his butt. not like he cared, he wanted to make sure he gets knocked up, that you get him knocked up as he creams around you again, creating an even thicker halo of white around your strap

yandere! husband who shows his filthier side, holding your head against his chest and asking you to suck on his nipples, who place your hand over his tcock, telling you to “s-stroke! my cock too ahh haagh♡︎ mgh n-not fair that mmuungh uunghk my cock is being left alone♡︎!”

yandere! husband who lets out one last hoarse wail, the wetness of his cunt making you groan as your strap cums inside him for the nth time that night before collapsing on top of him. he had passed out, tired from the continuous pounding he received as he lay there peacefully with flushed red cheeks, tearstains and drools on his chin and cheeks while pretty bruises and lovebites cover his skin. the most notable bruises being the ones on his hips and thighs, making you grimace at the painful wound you saw. but hey, the small bulge in his belly from your excessive cum inside his womb made you happy. it definitely made him happy too

yandere! husband who occasionally regains consciousness during your aftercare for him. who groans and refuses to let you pull out for bath, straddling your lap inside the warm water filled bathtub. he couldn’t help but slur out a “noo… don’t pull out” as you push his pelvic away from yours, feeling the cum inside his pussy to drip down his legs

yandere! husband who now eagerly wait for the signs of pregnancy with a full boxes of pregnancy test at his side of the nightstand, who still poke secret holes into your condoms because when did he said he wanted only one baby with you?

⇨ characters i think fits: jing yuan, dan feng, yingxing, sunday, aventurine, argenti, dan heng il, gepard, sampo, luocha, caelus, luka, jiaoqui, itto, baizhu, ayato, thoma, childe, pantalone, dottore, kaeya, kaveh, lyney, neuvillette, sethos, heizou, venti, rubedo, aalto, xiangli yao, scar, yoriichi, haganezuka, douma, kaigaku, jyugo, uno, kiji, honey, trois, kenshirou yozakura, musashi, houzuki sanzou, ruka gojou, seitarou, tsukumo, mitsuru, sinbad, sharkkan, spartos, koumei, titus, muu alexius, sphintus, rafayel, mammon, asmodeus, mephistopheles, diavolo, belphegor, simeon, solomon, satan + anyone you like

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lotusbxtch · 25 days ago

Text

A New Year's Distraction

Pairing: Javier Peña + f!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Summary: Javi doesn't realize that you've got a surprise waiting for him at home.

Tags/warnings: PWP let’s be real lol, secret established relationship, foul language, (1) suggestive note, mentions of food and alcohol, foodplay, consumption of alcohol, mention of masturbation, brief masturbation, brief sex toy usage, spitting, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up people), creampie, (1) pussy slap, Spanish nicknames and phrases, (1) use of the word 'slut' (but Reader is into it)

a/n: I saw these GIFs of Javi and @for-a-longlongtime convinced me to turn my little drabble thought into a fic. Is it after New Year’s Eve? Yes. Shhh. Pretend it’s not, for me. So here it is, unbeta’d and minimally edited. This is my first Javi P fic, so pls be gentle but also let me know how I did with writing him! Happy belated New Year to this little Tumblr community - I love you so much! (Banners by @saradika-graphics, GIF by @pedrohub)

MAIN MASTERLIST

In any other year, you’d have been out on the town, dancing with friends and drinking cocktails while men tried to woo you for a midnight kiss. You’d drink too much, wake up hungover, and potentially with a stranger in bed.

This year, however, New Year’s Eve in Colombia looked markedly different.

Since you’d started at the embassy at the beginning of the year, helping the US track and take down narcos, the work never stopped. (Drug trafficking, it seemed, did not take note of the holidays.) You’d thrown yourself into the work, desperate to prove that you belonged here - which was already an uphill battle given your gender. Women have to work twice as hard as men in general, but here? Even more so. The machismo patriarchy wanted Columbia to chew you up, spit you out, and send you packing. You wanted - needed - this job to work out, so letting the place eat you alive wasn’t an option.

On this New Year’s Eve, partying with friends was out of the question. Recent intelligence reports needed to be analyzed, and it fell onto you this time. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you continue to leaf through and take notes in the margins. The office was relatively quiet, a couple of your coworkers waving bye to you on their way out to the bars. You check the clock - 7pm - and stretch, deciding enough is enough.

Earlier in the week, you’d planned out a little surprise for Javier Peña – DEA agent extraordinaire and the man you’d been dating secretly for months – at his place for the evening, both of you preferring to stay in this year. Plus, there was really only one man you wanted to kiss at midnight. Smiling, you grab a manila folder. You tear a page out of your field notebook, scribble a note, then stick it into the folder. Getting up from your desk, you gather your things and walk across the building to the DEA office, a mischievous smile on your lips.

In a nearly-dark conference room, Javi stands hands akimbo, poring over the various maps, satellite images, and transcriptions of tapped conversations with other members of the team. They’d been trying to make a decision with the latest batch of intelligence gathering, but as per usual, egos began to butt heads and office politics started to come into play. He runs his hand through his dark curls, frustration etched into his features as he listens numbly to the arguing going on around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you round the corner, spotting him and smiling. You’re carrying your purse and a manila folder with what he’s assuming is more intelligence reports for him to look over. Javi struggles to school his features, tamping down the desire to smirk at your arrival. Steve, of course, notices his partner’s distraction, and puts two and two together when you knock on the conference room door.

“Agent Peña?” you chirp, popping your head into the room.

He nods at you, holding his hand out for the folder. You place it in his hand, all business. “Thanks. Are these the –” Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve already turned around, striding out the door and towards the exit. He’s a bit confused, staring at the folder in his hands.

Steve gives him a look, but continues discussing the current leads with the rest of the team. Javi places the folder to the side of the table, giving it little thought.

Two hours later, Javi is done.

The discussions had turned into arguments, and the conversation was going nowhere. An ashtray sits in the middle of the table, a smoldering cigarette in front of Javi. All he wants to do is to go home, take off his shoes and belt (god, how he hates wearing belts), loosen up his tie, and have a stiff drink.

Suddenly, he remembers your folder. Bored with the current conversation, he picks it up to skim the reports you gave him. However, the folder is far lighter than he’d expect for reports. Puzzled, he opens it to find a torn piece of lined notebook paper with a note scrawled in your handwriting.

Going to your place for New Year’s Eve. Steaks, champagne, and me naked in your bed. See you later xoxo

Javi’s brain feels like it stops working.

He reads the note another two, three times, and then bends over, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, staring blankly ahead as the blood rushes from his head to his groin. The chatter around him fades. Unconsciously, he brings his fist to his lips as flashes of lewd images flood his mind - how you look when you strip for him; you on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, your pussy shining with slick; you on your back, thighs spread wide around his torso, eyes closed and mouth open as you moan and clench his length inside of you.

Fuck it.

His eyes flit around the room, and he realizes he just does not care about any of this right now. Javi reaches for the stumpy cigarette, taking a single drag, then drops it unceremoniously back into the ashtray, grabbing his things and leaving the table without a word.

“Peña!” Steve calls after him. “What the fuck?” But Javi doesn’t hear him, because he’s already out the door, on his way to where the throbbing between his thighs is taking him – straight to you.

You’d (correctly) assumed that Javi would be stuck in that god-awful meeting for at least another hour and a half, so you’d allowed yourself a leisurely unwinding from the day. After grabbing the steaks and champagne stashed at your apartment, you let yourself into Javi’s place, overnight bag in tow. You’d lit some candles in the living room, pre-seasoned the steaks, and then popped the cork on one of the champagne bottles. Pouring yourself a glass, you took a long soak in his tub, luxuriating in waters dosed with bath oils your mother sent you as a Christmas present. Now, soft skin toweled dry and heavenly scented, you lay bare in Javi’s bed, just as you said you would.

Your vibrating wand hums as you tease your folds with your thighs spread, your other hand caressing the curves of your breasts. A soft moan leaves your mouth, lips parted. You smile and giggle to yourself at the thought of how worked up you likely got Javi from your little note. You knew the steaks and champagne weren’t a guarantee that he’d leave the office and come home, but you knew that the second you mentioned being naked in bed for him, he’d leap up and take off running like the Road Runner in Looney Toons.

The door slams open and closed, and your smile turns into a predatory smirk. Showtime.

You press the wand firmer to your clit, eliciting more moans, and Javi is drawn to the bedroom like a sailor to a siren’s song. You hear his shoes being toed off, then the swish of his jacket being thrown onto the couch. His briefcase and keys hit the countertop, and then his purposeful strides get louder as he stalks down the hall to you. His broad frame appears in the doorway, shoulders taut against his dove grey button-up, his striped tie loosened and his hands occupied with rolling up his sleeves. Despite the dark color of his slacks, you can see his cock already straining at the crotch. His eyes flash onyx in the dim lighting.

“Starting without me, muñequita?” he rumbles, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. You spread yourself wider and toss the wand to the side, letting him see your shining center, slick and ready for him.

“No, baby,” you hum, propping yourself onto your elbows and pushing your bare tits out. “Just keeping myself soaked for you, just like you like me. A good girl.”

Javi groans audibly at your display and words, an animal barely keeping it together. “What you are is a menace,” he growls, raking a hand through his hair. “Floating on by like a damn dream, waltzing out of the office without so much as a hint at the dirty fucking note you left me in that folder. I didn’t open it for two hours. And when I did, I got so hard I had to leave.”

“Then let me take care of my hard-working, handsome, brave DEA agent,” you purr. “The steaks are ready to cook, but knowing you, you want your dessert first.”

“Actually,” Javi smirks, “I’d really like some festive bubbles.” You go to reach for the second glass, yours having been refilled shortly before Javi came home, but he stops you.

“No, bebita. Lay back. I don’t need a glass for this.”

Javier grabs the champagne bottle, then slots himself over your body. You widen your legs to accommodate him, pressing your hips to meet his.

Bracketing your head with his forearms, he commands gently, “Open.”

You open your lips obediently. He takes a swig from the bottle, then spits the bubbly wine right into your mouth. Moaning, you swallow, wetness pooling between your thighs. His gaze never leaves yours.

“Dirty girl, you liked that,” Javi teases, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“Tastes better like that,” you husk, then pull him in for a deep kiss. His plush lips move against yours, tongues dancing, feeding off each other. His kisses intoxicate your mind.

Breaking the kiss, Javi continues to run his lips down your body, stopping briefly to suck each of your nipples into his mouth, making you shudder and gasp. He trails his tongue across your belly, gently biting your mound. Once there, he sits back on his haunches, then smiles wickedly.

“I know how to make it taste even better,” he teases. Slowly, he trickles the fizzy alcohol in a thin stream over your exposed center. A gasp is forced out of your throat, quickly turning into a moan when Javi laps it off your folds.

Another pour, more licking from him. Your moans turn into whines, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, Javi, that’s so hot,” you whimper. At your admission, he surges back to your face to kiss you passionately, your own tart sweetness and the headiness of the champagne swirling on your tongue from his. All too soon, he’s parting from your lips. You grumble, until he’s ducked back down between your thighs, your swollen clit gently secured between his lips before he starts to suck. His palm presses on your belly, right above your pubic bone.

“Oh god,” you whine, your release rising in your bones like the bubbles in the long-forgotten glass flute beside the bed. Javi moans into your pussy, slipping two of his fingers into your core.

“You sound so pretty, nenita,” he murmurs. “Are you gonna come on my face for me?”

“Yes, papí, fuck,” you moan, hips grinding against his talented mouth.

He curls his fingers upwards, stroking that spongy spot on your walls. “Dámelo,” your boyfriend commands, then sucks your clit hard.

You shatter for him with a stuttered scream, your release spurting on his chin and mouth. He holds down your hips as you ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls. When you relax, Javi slips his fingers from you, sucking your juices off of them. Blissed out, you watch as he begins to strip off his clothes, his golden skin and taut muscles coming into view. Now completely bare, he climbs back over you, his face still glistening from the evidence of your orgasm. He spreads your thighs apart, grabbing his dick in his hand and slapping your drenched pussy with his mushroom tip. The sounds of your wetness are obscene.

Javi smirks like the devil himself. “Been dreaming about this sloppy little cunt all day,” he rumbles, rubbing your swollen clit teasingly with his cockhead. “Thinking about all the ways I wanted to ruin you. Not being able to touch you all day was torture.”

You snort a laugh breathily. “If only the cartels knew all it took to break you was to deny you of pussy for a few hours. You’d be singing government secrets.”

Javi’s eyes darken for a moment, and then he slaps your slick folds, making you cry out pain and then pleasure.

“Watch your fucking mouth, princesa,” he warns, “or I’ll fill it up so you can’t say shit to me.”

Your arousal flares. Javi knows just how rough you can take it from him.

“I’m sorry, papi,” you moan. “I promise I’ll be good for you.”

He smirks. “I know you will.” Without warning, he slides home, sheathing himself inside you with a single, devastating stroke. You both cry out brokenly at the intense sensations, his cock always a stretch for you. All you can see, feel, think about, is him.

Javi stays buried inside you, laying still while you adjust. Your velvet heat wraps around him wholly and overwhelms his senses. He has to take deep breaths to keep him from falling off the edge of his ecstasy.

“God, you take me so well,” he grits out. “Pussy feels like heaven.” You can only breathe a whine in response, soft lips popped open as you struggle to relax your walls around him. Usually he works you open slowly, but it seems like your bratty comment triggered the feral side in him.

“Oh, pobrecita,” Javi mocks, tutting as you squirm underneath him. “Did my cock already render you speechless?” When you let out another whimper, he smirks darkly. He grips your chin between his fingers firmly, bringing your focus to his devastatingly handsome face. “C‘mon, pretty baby. Use your words.”

Your lips close and throat bobs, attempting to obey. “You feel so big in me, papí,” you rasp out, voice fucked.

Javi chuckles. “Tight little pussy is grippin’ me so well, honey,” he teases, sending a pulse scuttling through your core. “Wanna stay buried inside you all the time.”

Soon, the sting of his cock melts into pleasure thrumming along your nerves. Your pussy weeps more slick. “Please, Javi,” you beg, feeling the arousal spread like fire through your veins. You desperately need him to move.

“When you beg so pretty, I guess I have to,” Javi smirks. He slowly pulls out, lighting up every nerve ending in your channel, then thrusts back into you quick and deep. A loud moan shakes loose from your lungs, and Javi grinds his molars when he feels you tighten around him in response. He continues this way, every devastating minute melting you further into the mattress. You scrabble your hands around his shoulders for purchase, arching your back into him when he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. Legs wrap around his waist, your cunt sucking him in as deeply as it can. Javi’s eyes scan your body, cataloguing every whimper, twitch, and breath to bring you to climax as fast as possible.

“Is this what you needed, bebita?” Javi asks. You clench around him and nod rapidly, breath coming in pants. “‘Cause it sure as hell is what I needed.”

He bares his teeth as he picks up his pace, stroking your messy pussy harder and deeper. “You’re so fucking wet for me. I wanna feel your little pussy pulse around me when you come,” he groans, and you let out a reedy whine in response. He grabs your hips and tilts them, changing the angle he’s fucking into you, and your entire body lights up.

“That’s it, baby, c’mon,” Javi begs, “Come for me. Show me how hard I can make you come.”

When he asks so nicely like that, your body simply can’t refuse.

The waves of pleasure gather behind your belly button and explode outwards as you scream his name, your legs shaking and cunt fluttering around him. Javi moans at your release, biting into your shoulder to keep from coming. When you begin to relax, he pulls out of you, a protesting groan dribbling out from your lips until he flips you back on all fours.

Javi lifts your hips in the air, your chest pressed to the mattress, and lines himself up at your entrance. “I’m not done with you yet,” he informs you, smoke edging his voice, and he sinks into you again. You let out a surprised but thrilled moan, as this is your favorite way to take him.

“My pretty slut wants to be railed from behind, hmm?” Javi teases, his movements fluid and confident. Sliding his hand down your arm, he sucks two of your fingers into his mouth before placing your hand between your thighs, right where he’s splitting you open.

“Rub that pretty little clit for me, sweetheart,” he orders, and all you can do is moan and comply. Javi grabs your hips, his blunt nails leaving tiny crescent moon indentations in your supple skin, reminders of how insatiable he is for your body. Small droplets of his sweat scatter across your back. Your drenched folds squelch lewdly as he plays your body like the finest orchestral instrument, knowing exactly how to elicit those gorgeous sounds from your lips. Your fingers swirl around your swollen pearl, spiraling you higher and higher towards your orgasm. You love feeling him like this, as if he’s in your throat, filling every single empty space within your body.

Your thighs begin to twitch and shake, and Javi knows you’re close. He braces against your shoulder for leverage with one hand, and lands a hard slap across your backside with his other while he bounces your body against his cock. Your moans have turned to wails, a desperate whining edge to them.

“Fuck, papi,” you keen, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeee.” Javi ratchets his movements up another level, pounding into you earnestly, his own release coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck this cunt, it’s yours,” you beg, and your filthy mouth in the throes of passion may send him to an early grave, albeit with his dick wet.

“You gonna come again for papi?” he asks rhetorically. Your head bobs vigorously, your fingers a blur between your thighs. He’s barely holding on, seconds from exploding.

A stream of pornographic whimpers leaves your lips. As they get higher in pitch, your cunt squeezes his shaft tighter, and now he’s moaning unabashedly.

“Oh, fuck, Javi, I’m coming” you manage to moan before you scream into the bedding, shattering, pussy clamping down on his cock. He whimpers loudly, burying himself, and unloads rope after rope of thick cum inside of you. Shaking with each twitch of his cock, he leans forward to blanket you with his body. Javi gently rolls the both of you to your sides, remaining inside of you. The air settles with only your and Javi’s heavy breathing echoing in the room.

Once you catch your breath, a smile breaks out across your face. You press kisses to Javi’s forearms. “This is the best New Year’s Eve celebration I’ve had yet,” you muse, leaning your head back against Javi’s strong chest.

He huffs a laugh, then pulls out of you gently with a quiet groan, the warm trickle of his cum from your wrecked pussy following shortly. He turns you to face him, his hands framing your jawline, and he softly sponges his lips to your forehead, running his nose down the bridge of yours before kissing it. “Night’s not over yet, nena. I believe you mentioned some steaks?”

Giggling, you nod affirmatively. “Great,” he continues, kissing along your neck, “because once we’re done enjoying those, I’m gonna enjoy you all over again. It is my full intention to have you literally coming straight through the new year.”

The answering grin on your lips is so bright, it could rival the Times Square New Year’s Ball drop. “Well, happy new year to us, then, Agent Peña.”

Tagging those who I thought might like some Javi P smut:

@mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @joelmillerisapunk @arcanefox207

@mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry

@yxtkiwiyxt @almostfoxglove @almostempty @swankyorange @alltheglitterandtheroar

@yorksgirl @pedropeach @pedrospatch @jolapeno @max--phillips

@baronessvonglitter @puddles221b @evolnoomym @slimybeth69 @perotovar

@penvisions @indiegirlunited @eupheme @heareball @reggiesfilthylittlesecret

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos smut #pedrohub #javier pena x reader

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enhaven · 19 days ago

Text

busy ⤑ sjy (m.)

pairing: jake x reader

genre: fluff, smut, pwp, established relationship

wc & rating: 1.5k | 18+

summary: jaeyun’s bored out of his mind so he wants to play….but you seemed to be so busy.

warnings: cursing, groping, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, doggy lmao, orgasm delay/denial

a/n: a quick one (again) from my hoodie collection cuz i've been missing him oml while i work on longer fics. also this is unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!!

Several deep sighs and huffs can be heard from your boyfriend behind you, so it’s only a matter of time until he’d start whining that you’ve been ignoring him, again.

"baby i’m bored"

More than a minute, now that's a new record.

"okay, but i'm doing something" you sternly say, turning around to show him the screen of your laptop so he can see the number of pages of your paper that you still need to edit.

You did your best to not look at Jake because you need to focus. He's wearing that favourite hoodie of yours, the one that you borrowed the most. You couldn't help but think he's wearing it on purpose. He raises the collar, tightening up the drawstrings as he gives you that pleading look. He's been whining nonstop for about half an hour now and you're starting to feel bad.

Tonight's one of the nights where you're both free which is rare given how busy you and your boyfriend are. It just happens that one of your classes have a deadline this week and it's due before midnight. You’re technically done but the perfectionist in you still wants to do another round of editing just to make sure you’d submit the version that satisfies you.

Your boyfriend understands that. Hell, Jake's quite similar especially when it comes to academics. You're just hoping tonight's not an exception.

However, Jake thinks you’re always doing something. It’s not because he’s needy that he’s complaining. He’s seriously getting concerned about how much you’ve been tiring yourself lately.

Not just for this paper but for everything else too so he has to intervene before you exhaust yourself completely. You're stubborn for sure and it caused little arguments between you both in the past but he knows how to handle you.

Jake's a man of many talents and if there's one thing he's the most confident about, it's his ability to make you putty in his hands.

He places a firm peck on top of your bare shoulder blade. You thought that was it since he's very affectionate, not putting too much thought in to it as he's done it many times before. But then he leaves another and continues his kisses on the rest of your shoulders up to your nape so you know what he was doing.

"jaeyun i need to finish this" you try to say with more conviction but your voice came out a little weak.

Jake’s lips curl into a smirk. You’re not leaving his lap when you could've so if he just tries one more time..

You feel his large hands slowly creep under your shirt, his fingertips circling your skin. Jake feels your breathing quicken as you pauses your typing, prompting him to continue his ministrations on you. His hands ascend and before you can even stop him, both his hands cup your breasts.

"take a break" he whispers against your skin, casually biting the surface as he starts kneading your breasts roughly.

Curse you for choosing to wear a thin bra tonight. Normally, you wouldn’t but spending time with your boyfriend always ends up with him fucking you so you had to take precautions.

You should've taken more. That will never stop Jake though.

"b-babe, we fucked this morning" you struggle to fight off his effects on you, not really wanting him to stop with how heated you are already.

"so? we can’t fuck again?” he whines by your ear, ceasing his hands but not without giving them a hard pinch which dismayed you a bit.

“we can but later. i’m almost done i promise” you turn around to give him a quick kiss in which he sneakily tries to deepen by pulling your neck. You thankfully was able to stop him, planting your hand against his firm chest.

“hmm, okay but..can i be inside you though? i’ll behave baby i promise” your eyes squint at Jake’s twinkling ones with his request, not really believing any of his words after the stunt he just pulled.

On the bright side, it’ll pacify him for the time being while you finish editing so you nodded.

Jake grinned at his successful attempt, helping you out of your night shorts. He immediately pulls down his sweats and boxers, just enough so he can take his cock out for you to sit on. He'd been hard since you sat on his lap and he's pretty sure you've noticed it but just paid him no mind.

You're good at that, resisting. But Jake also figured out how to break your defenses.

He runs his hands along his shaft, giving it a quick squeeze while you part your thong to the side. The view made him chuckle, immediately sliding his swollen tip along your folds. Jake isn't really surprised with the amount of slick that's coating his cock already.

"baby, you're so wet-"

"sim jaeyun" your firm tone stops him at once, pulling you down by your hips as you slowly sink on him.

"shit.."

Your boyfriend didn't prep you so it's quite uncomfortable given his size. Jake usually fingers you up to three sometimes to make sure you're ready each time you have sex.

"fuckfuckfuck"

Jake takes a deep breath once you reach the hilt, closing his eyes to stop himself from fucking up to you. He may be good at controlling himself but when it comes to your pussy? He's no match for it.

You made it clear that you wanted to finish editing, evident when he sees your hand passing him his phone.

"play a bit so you won't get bored hmm?"

Jake begrudgingly accepts it, leaning back on the pillows as he starts playing a game on his phone. The slight movement causes his dick to move inside you, unintentionally hitting that spongy spot that elicits a moan from you.

It's followed by short gasp, probably thinking that he didn't hear it because he's busy with his own game. Oh but he did, he's just going to ignore it like you wanted. He loves you that much.

You were wondering why your boyfriend hasn't said anything. Usually he does, taunting you until you give in but his attention is fully on his phone now. You should be relieved because he's not bothering you anymore.

It lasted for a few minutes. You were able to do a lot of editing before one of his hands grip your hip.

"stop moving baby, i don't wanna loose here" he grunts, sounding breathless behind you. Loose in what? The game on his phone or this game he's playing with you?

You pause your typing, closing your eyes to try and control your breathing. Ever since Jake hit that spot earlier, you've grown desperate for him to do it again, not really realizing that you've been unconsciously clenching around his cock this whole time.

It's frustrating you that Jake seems to be not affected at all, continuing playing with his game, a few curses and whining here and there. You move slightly, hoping that he'll notice but still none. Maybe he's getting back at you for constantly ignoring him earlier.

You clamp on him again, rolling your hips a little and his grip tightened on your hip. You feel his cock twitch inside and you grinned. Closing your laptop now, you transfer it from your legs to the mattress. You're just relieved that you were able to finish before your horniness took over.

Jake's hand moves from your hip to the front side of your waist, controlling your movements as you start bouncing on his cock.

"you've been working hard baby" he chuckles, not failing to compliment you.

"mhmm, i love you jakey" you moan, close to a whine at this point since he's still not paying you his full attention.

"i love you too baby"

A yelp erupts from you when your boyfriend suddenly raise both of his legs, his hands holding up your body as he pushes you on your knees. Your face falls front on the mattress as Jake positions himself, careful not to remove his dick from your pussy in the process.

Damn his core strength.

Once Jake's both hands are on your sides, he begins fucking you senseless. Like how he's wanted to since you sat on his lap. He knew that you won't last long, that you need him like how much he needs you.

"you should relax a little" he coos, giggling a bit when he notices how tightly you're gripping the bedsheets. The intensity from his thrusts leaves your brain mushy, almost missing the his teasing undertone.

"h-how am i gonna relax when you're fucking me this hard" you're not really complaining and Jake knows it. He relishes all the sounds coming from you each time he has you like this. All pliant, all for him to do whatever he pleases.

"just the way you like it"

He caresses your ass as he speeds up his thrust, intentionally missing your soft spot to prolong this. He knows you're anticipating him to spank you a little but he won't. Instead, he slows down and contemplates if he should play with your swollen clit at the moment.

He'd have the time to calm himself, maybe pause, to punish you just a little bit. He's definitely not planning to let you cum yet.

Not until you start begging, again and again..

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nor-ay · 23 days ago

Text

You feel like crying.

No, you are crying. The moon shines brightly and you feel exposed even though you're alone and It’s midnight. Tears come easily to you and you hate it. The way it wets your face and makes everything blurry, or the way you can’t talk because of how your voice will betray you.

Sometimes you wonder why love has to hurt so much. It’s fascinating. How someone who makes your heart flutter and beat twice as fast can make your eyes turn on the waterworks. Pure Vanilla Cookie. Oh, how you love him. You’ve known him for a long time now, you know what makes him smile, what preoccupies his mind and who makes his heart flutter. You’ve known for a long time yet you didn’t want to think about it.

You find it cruel how fate deals with you. Placing a white lily at your feet. You suppose that the wind has taken it here before you to mock you. Your sadness slowly turns into resentment and it grows from your soul to your brain and it infects your lungs. Why did Pure Vanilla want her so badly?

Your one-sided love for him almost makes you laugh. You would like a lie to make it all better. A lie so good that would dampen the truth. But you couldn't lie to yourself. The thought of Shadow Milk Cookie roots into your mind, as you think about how easy it must be for him to lie, to deceive people. After the confrontation in Beast-Yeast, you—

“[name] Cookie?”

GingerBrave Cookie’s voice feels like a bucket of ice water thrown all over you. All soggy and heavy. “Oh, GingerBrave…I'm sorry, I was just— uh, thinking. If you’ll excuse me”

You don't wait for a response, you can’t find it in you to look at him. Another thing you leave behind as you walk past him is the squashed white lily on the floor.

You hope he notices it and tells the group about it.

Just to be cruel.

So! This is my first fic, I feel a bit shy about it but whatever. I hope it’s good enough.

Chapter 2

#shadow milk cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #unrequited love #angsty #no use of y/n #unrequited love story

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kiss-inthekitchen · 11 months ago

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pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room.

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off.

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not.

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night.

That is, until you opened the door.

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said.

“Sure looks that way.”

"At least it's a queen?"

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time.

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began.

"I mean, I guess I don't really–"

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–"

"–mind as long as you–"

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement.

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be.

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window.

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.”

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.”

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team.

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it.

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep.

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still.

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke.

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind.

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers.

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right.

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that.

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again.

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you.

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together.

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell.

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal.

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation.

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.”

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him.

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Sorry,” you managed.

“For what?”

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.”

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further.

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.”

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!”

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.”

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.”

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.”

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him.

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat.

“You just said ass.”

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.”

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.”

“I knew you’d agree.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed.

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting.

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed.

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep.

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself.

Eventually, exhaustion won out.

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what?

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black.

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?!

“Hey, you okay?”

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.”

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well.

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.”

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated.

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way.

“You were on my pillow, by the way.”

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him.

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.”

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again.

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back.

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest.

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious.

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing.

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?”

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.”

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer.

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.”

“Don’t profile me.”

“I’m not. I just know you.”

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.”

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.”

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.”

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.”

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip.

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.”

“I told you to stop profiling me.”

This time, he just hummed in response.

“And so what if I stuttered?”

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.”

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list.

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–”

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed.

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.”

“That all makes total sense.”

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved.

“Now tell me the rest of it.”

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well.

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and–

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream.

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent.

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing.

“Yes.”

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word.

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it.

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry.

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–”

“It is.”

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.”

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.”

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back.

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you.

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked.

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.”

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.”

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed.

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.”

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?”

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.”

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.”

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.”

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.”

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you.

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed.

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside.

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again.

“Okay, was it just me, or–”

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?”

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless.

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.”

“Well, you kissed me.”

“I did.”

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed.

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.”

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.”

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.”

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist.

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it.

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.”

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer.

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages.

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.”

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“You’re such an ass.”

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up.

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you.

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker.

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left.

You text back: okay?

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night.

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face.

You: what did u say?

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first.

You: i think u should say yes, obviously.

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded.

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success.

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you.

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;)

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh.

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask.

Shit.

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat.

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you?

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate??

Spencer: Yes

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace.

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn.

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth.

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed.

#so they have flip phones but i didnt want to write everything in shorthand so theyre just really fast at it. go with it #spencer texts with perfect grammar bc of course he does #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #my fics

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areislol · 1 month ago

Text

A New Year's with you

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. fluff

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. first of i'd really like to thank each and every one of you!! to my followers, thank you for supporting me and enjoying what i love to do. i wish you all a very happy new year!

►— wordcount. 2.3k

The night air was crisp, filled with the promise of something new. Outside, the world was celebrating, fireworks bursting across the sky in a riot of colors. Inside, though, you were focused on something much more important: spending your New Year’s Eve with the people who meant the most to you.

As the clock struck 11:55 PM, you sat comfortably surrounded by the familiar faces of your closest friends. There was Aether, who always seemed to be uplifted and happy, like right now. Ever curious about Earth’s traditions, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

He was carefully arranging the items for the night's festivities: a platter of snacks, a bottle of sparkling grape juice (your compromise since he didn’t trust “bubbly Earth potions”), and a small stack of board games you’d promised to teach him.

“You really do all of this just to welcome a new year?” he asked, golden eyes sparkling with intrigue.

You nodded, sinking into the couch with a soft smile. “It’s more about the memories we make while waiting for midnight. Traditions like these make it special.”

Aether tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “We have something similar in Teyvat, though it’s more about honouring the past year and setting intentions for the next. I like your way, though—it’s lighter, more joyful.”

The two of you started with the games. Aether’s competitive streak caught you off guard as he quickly learned the rules of UNO and began ruthlessly stacking Draw Fours against you. His laughter was infectious, and soon the room was filled with lighthearted banter and playful accusations of cheating.

And Diluc, who stood by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up and hands dusted with flour as he helped you prepare a tray of cookies. He looked entirely at ease, though his noble posture and crimson hair made him seem almost out of place in such a mundane setting.

“You’ve really outdone yourself with the decorations,” he remarked, glancing around. “The atmosphere here feels... grounding.”

You smiled, brushing some flour from his cheek with a light touch. “I wanted it to feel special. After all, it’s your first New Year’s on Earth.”

Diluc’s lips curved into a faint smile. “It’s quite different from what we do in Mondstadt. There, we celebrate with lively gatherings, songs, and toasts to the Anemo Archon. This... quiet celebration is a welcome change.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you set about preparing the evening’s activities. You’d decided to keep it simple: a light dinner, some nostalgic movies, and watching the midnight fireworks from the backyard. Diluc had also brought a bottle of dandelion wine he’d made himself, a taste of Mondstadt to share with you.

Zhongli stood nearby looking strangely relaxed, his hands loosely holding a glass of wine. Kazuha, always the poet at heart, hummed quietly to himself, his gaze occasionally flicking over to the window to catch the sparkling lights outside.

Then there was Childe, his eyes glinting with mischief as usual, though his playful grin softened as he glanced your way. And Kaeya, ever the charmer, leaned casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed the group.

“Am I late, or are you just fashionably early?”

You turned to see Kaeya leaning against the doorframe, a sly grin on his face. He was dressed casually, but even in a sweater and sweatpants, he carried himself with the same effortless charm that made your heart skip a beat.

“Perfect timing, actually,” you replied with a smile. “Welcome to Earth’s New Year’s Eve celebration.”

Kaeya stepped inside, taking in the decorations with an approving nod. “You’ve certainly gone all out. I feel honoured to be part of such an event.”

“Don’t get too excited,” you teased. “It’s mostly snacks, games, and fireworks on TV. But I did prepare something fun.”

His visible eye gleamed with interest. “Do tell.”

You handed him a silly party hat and matching noisemaker. “Tradition.”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, twirling the noisemaker between his fingers. “You’re telling me people wear these... willingly?”

“Yes, and so will you,” you said, placing the hat on his head before he could protest. To your surprise, he didn’t remove it. Instead, he adjusted it with a flourish and gave you a playful bow to which you giggled at, finding it silly.

“Only for you, darling.”

Wriothesley, Lyney and Neuvillette, Venti, Kinich and Baizhu were all chatting amongst each other, an odd bunch, yes, but they all got along with each other. They all grouped around each other, happily talking about celebrating a new year…with you.

“Five minutes!” Kaeya called out, his voice light, teasing, but full of warmth. “Let’s make the last moments of the year memorable.”

“Right!” Childe grinned, raising his glass. “To make this year even better than the last!”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed at the ginger Fatui and his words. “Tsk, nothing is worth celebrating if the Fatui are still around..” He grumbled, his grip on the wine bottle tightening.

Noticing this you nudge him with your shoulder playfully, a smile tugging the corners of your lips as you spoke. “Don’t worry about him or the Fatui. Besides you’ve got us—me!” You said, watching as his gaze softened at you, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“You’re right.” His voice was soft and smooth, almost too soft, though the sweet moment between you two was interrupted as Albedo adjusted his glasses and glanced at you, his usual serene expression softening with the warmth of the evening. “Time flies when you’re surrounded by friends. It’s good to be here with all of you.”

Alhaitham sat comfortably on the couch, a book in hand—because of course, he brought a book. His teal-grey hair caught the light in a way that made him look effortlessly elegant, even in a simple turtleneck sweater.

“I still don’t understand the significance of this holiday,” he said without looking up, though the slight smirk on his lips suggested he was enjoying the conversation. “The Earth rotates around the sun every day. Why is this particular one celebrated?”

You laughed, sitting beside him. “It’s not about the science, Alhaitham. It’s about marking a moment to reflect on the past year and look forward to the next. It’s symbolic.”

He finally closed his book, setting it aside as he turned to face you fully. “Symbolism. A fascinating way to assign meaning to an arbitrary point in time.”

“Spoken like a true scholar,” you teased. “But you can’t deny that it’s nice to have an excuse to relax and celebrate.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied you. “I suppose it does offer an opportunity to engage in human connection. That, I can appreciate.”

The night unfolded with a quiet intimacy that felt uniquely fitting for Alhaitham. Instead of games or loud music, the two of you opted for meaningful conversation and simple joys. He indulged your Earth traditions by trying your carefully curated snacks, offering an unfiltered critique of each one.

“These are tolerable,” he said, gesturing to the plate of cookies. “But the balance of sweetness could be improved.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Noted, culinary expert.”

A chuckle escaped from Ayato, who leaned against the wall with a relaxed smirk. “How uncharacteristic of you, Alhaitham. But I agree, it’s nice to have a peaceful moment like this.”

Baizhu was seated nearby, carefully sipping on a cup of tea, his sharp eyes gleaming with a hidden playfulness. “A toast to health and prosperity, then,” he said with a smile. “May we all find peace and success in the year to come.”

Nearby, Cyno, though less stoic offered a smirk. “Let’s hope it’s more peaceful than last year,” he said dryly, casting a quick glance at Childe, who was standing by the snacks table, trying to sneak an extra serving of treats.

You, Diluc and Cyno all watched as Itto slapped his hand, scolding him for trying to sneak in a couple more snacks despite doing the same as well.

“You gotta stop stealing all the goodies! You can’t just hog ‘em all!” Itto whined, grabbing the handful of stolen goods from Childe who was practically fuming. “You are getting on my last nerves bud. Hand me back those snacks now! Besides, they said I could eat however much I wanted!”

“Stop lying! As if they would EVER give you permission to do something as heinous as that!” Itto screeched. You sighed, wondering when the bickering would ever stop.

Ga’ming joined the conversation, his voice light and playful. “I’m just happy to have made it through another year. Every year, we learn something new. Here’s to another year of discoveries!” he said, raising a glass.

Gorou, sitting beside him, nodded earnestly. “We’ve all fought many battles, but it’s the moments like these that remind us what we’re fighting for. To friends, to peace.” Heizou flashed a grin, holding up his drink. “The new year always brings a fresh set of mysteries, doesn’t it? Here’s hoping for more exciting cases to solve!” He winked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

However, everybody knew there were no mysteries to solve. Not one single case since he first landed here, which was quite sad, now that you were thinking about it..

From across the room, Itto boomed with excitement (having totally forgotten about the whole Childe stealing fiasco). “A toast to the strongest—no, the most amazing people around! Let’s make this year even more fun than the last!” His exuberance was contagious, and everyone around him laughed, joining in the cheer.

Kaeya, leaning casually against the doorframe, smirked playfully at you. “Cheers to another year of mischief and fun. I have no doubt this one will be full of surprises.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes at Kaeya’s comment, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Every year is full of surprises. Some better than others,” he teased, earning a laugh from Albedo.

Neuvillette placed his much larger and softer hands on your shoulder, a gentle smile and look on his face as he leaned his head down. “May we all find the strength to continue our paths, no matter the obstacles that come our way. A peaceful year ahead.”

Sethos, who was quietly observing everybody, nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. Whatever the world holds, we face it together.”

Thoma, ever the cheerful and supportive presence, added with a bright smile, “And here’s to everyone having a safe, happy year ahead. I’ll make sure to keep things running smoothly for us!”

Tighnari nodded in agreement. “I’m confident we’ll only grow stronger together.” As the seconds ticked down, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of all their presence. Each of them was here, beside you, in this shared moment of joy.

Venti raised his glass, his usual carefree nature in full force. “To freedom! To wind! And to all the wonderful people we meet along the way!”

Wanderer, leaning slightly against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a quiet laugh. “Not sure about freedom, but I’m all for a year where things are… less chaotic.” His dry humour had the group chuckle.

Wriothesley raised a glass, his usual calm exterior belying the warmth in his voice. “May this year bring you all the peace and prosperity you deserve. We’ve earned it.”

Xiao, standing near the window, his gaze distant yet soft, murmured, “A new year is just another step forward. I will continue protecting those dear to me.” His words were brief but filled with devotion. Zhongli smiled at the group. “A new year is a reminder that time flows forward, yet we remain constant in our bonds. May we cherish every moment.”

Kinich stood quietly, his presence comforting as always. He simply nodded his head in acknowledgment and continued back to staring out the window, though his eyes seem to be wavering towards somebody in the reflection of the glass window.

Capitano and Pierro, with a more reserved expression, raised his glass in a quiet toast. “May the coming year be kind to us all.” Pantalone, with a cheerful grin, chimed in last. “To friends, to family, and to new adventures. May the year ahead be our best yet.”

The countdown reached zero, and the room erupted in cheers, laughter, and clinking glasses. The fireworks outside exploded in a burst of color, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as you stood surrounded by your friends—each one unique, each one cherished.

“Happy New Year!” you all called out in unison, the warmth of your bond filling the room.

“Happy New Year!” you repeated, your heart full, as the new year began. Cheers erupted around the room as everyone clinked glasses and exchanged smiles. The sound of fireworks outside mixed with the laughter inside, creating a perfect harmony that made your heart swell.

“I’m so grateful for all of you,” you said, feeling the weight of the moment. “Thank you for being part of my life.”

They all smiled, their expressions soft and filled with affection. Kaeya was the first to pull you into a warm embrace, followed by Childe who ruffled your hair playfully. Kazuha, ever the poet, simply offered a gentle nod, his gaze full of quiet affection. Zhongli’s smile was calm, yet there was a deep tenderness in the way he looked at you. And Aether and Lumine both offered their hands, pulling you into a hug that felt like home.

“No matter what the new year brings,” Aether said softly, “we’ll always be together.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved, the year ahead felt full of endless possibilities, each one more beautiful than the last.“Happy New Year, everyone,” you said, your heart full, surrounded by your closest companions.

“Let’s make it a year to remember.”

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @hexvx @saltlovetale-blog @backintomykpopphaseagain @toramune @oreo-ren @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @amiaaaaaq @lovelive-animequeen1029 @roseapov @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealamp @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanisty @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnivindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcroww @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqqo @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-locoal-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhiwassup @youdontneedtoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @isaacdakknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @lazy-panther @silverstarred @blughosts @deepobservationninja @chericia @paper–angel @gtxthatonegirl @meigalaxy @blurryperrtymoonlight @creativecupcake @candlesworlds-blog @k0hdai @amyminhminh

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

additional notes: i may not be able to see your comment to be added to the taglist for the earlier chapters (1, 2, 3, etc) so please hop in my inbox and tell me as it’ll be easier for me! thanks for reading :)

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

Text

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column.

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound.

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask.

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh.

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt.

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it.

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham.

"How'd they get you?" you ask.

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to.

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?"

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference.

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly.

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes.

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded.

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away.

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself."

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood.

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink.

"Can I crash here?"

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him.

"What're you doing?" you ask.

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines."

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say.

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again.

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common.

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love.

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain.

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel.

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?"

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach.

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask.

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold."

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead."

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light.

"You're tired of me," he says.

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't.

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit.

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly.

"I'd be tired of me."

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say.

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck.

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask.

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise.

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst.

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you.

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow.

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city.

"I wanna try to use the door," he says.

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming.

"Then I'll leave it unlocked."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x gender neutral reader #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic #batman imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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msilwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 1

Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Hungry Wife! Reader. By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Part 2, Part 3

Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don't read when hungry!! Summary: Pregnant with Simon's child, Y/N experiences intense late-night cravings. Her overprotective husband, Simon, keeps a close eye on her, ensuring she’s well taken care of. However, Y/N discovers a late-night noodle shop that serves her favorite foods—dumplings and noodles—and she can’t resist the temptation. She sneaks out in the dead of night for quick food runs, careful not to wake Simon. But Simon, ever the observant one, eventually catches her in the act and decides he’s not letting her sneak off again without a word.

----------

Midnight Snack Bust

Simon stirred slightly in his sleep, his instincts sharper than most even when off-duty. The weight on his chest—a comforting one—shifted, then disappeared altogether.

His eyes fluttered open in the darkness. Your side of the bed was empty, the covers pushed back, a slight chill left in their absence. Simon frowned. This wasn’t the first time.

He waited, still as a statue, listening for any sound that might tell him where you’d gone. The faint creak of the stairs gave you away.

Downstairs, you shuffled around the kitchen, carefully balancing a plate of toast smothered in butter, jam and honey. The thought of waking Simon was laughable—he was always in full protective mode, which meant no late-night snacks for you unless he hovered like a helicopter. Besides, you could handle it. The kitchen wasn’t that far from the bed.

Except, as you turned with your snack in hand, there he was.

Simon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a shadowy figure of unimpressed authority. The glow from the fridge cast just enough light for you to see his raised brow.

“Really?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You froze like a deer caught in headlights, the plate in your hands trembling slightly. “I was hungry.”

“You could’ve woken me.”

“It’s toast, Simon. I think I can manage toast.”

He stepped forward, his size practically swallowing the kitchen whole. “Not about the toast, love. It’s about the stairs. And you bein’ pregnant. You fall, then what?”

You rolled your eyes, but he plucked the plate from your hands, setting it on the counter. Without another word, he scooped you up—scooped, like a bloody princess—and started carrying you back to bed.

“Simon!” you protested, flailing slightly.

“Shush,” he muttered. “You’ve got enough on your plate—literally—without riskin’ your neck for a midnight snack.”

----------

Back in bed, Simon pulled the covers over both of you, his arm locking you in place like a human seatbelt.

“Next time, wake me,” he said, his voice softer now. “You want toast, noodles, a bloody roast dinner—I’ll get it. Just don’t go sneakin’ about.”

You sighed, nestling into his chest. “Fine. But I’m holding you to the roast dinner.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Deal.”

---------- A Wonderful Discovery

One sunny afternoon, you and Price’s fiancée (A/N: Same person from Papa Bear!! Material ;) and many more in this universe of mine, lol! ) decided to meet at a charming little tea house. It had become a bit of a routine—your way of catching up without the boys around to interrupt with their dry humor and war stories.

She was her usual lively self, flipping through the menu even though she’d already decided on her order. You admired how she could make even the simplest thing—like picking a biscuit—seem like an adventure.

“I’ve got to tell you,” she said suddenly, setting her menu down. “There’s this noodle shop. Open late. Best dumplings you’ll ever have. Like, melt-in-your-mouth, life-changing dumplings.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Late-night noodles? Around here?”

She nodded, leaning forward as if sharing a state secret. “Not just noodles—bao buns, dumplings, the works. I discovered it after one of those long nights when John was stuck at the base, and I didn’t feel like cooking. It’s a lifesaver. You’re lucky—it’s right near your place.”

Your interest piqued immediately. The thought of sneaking out for some steaming hot noodles had your mouth watering. “How late are we talking?”

She grinned. “Oh, past midnight. Maybe even 2 or 3 AM.”

----------

That night, as you lay in bed listening to Simon’s soft snores, the thought of that noodle shop lingered. You could almost taste the broth, the tender dumplings, the savory goodness of a late-night food escapade.

The idea began to take root.

----------

Late Night Escape

The idea simmered in your mind all evening. By the time Simon had brushed his teeth, pulled on his oversized sleep shirt, and settled into bed, it had blossomed into a full-blown plan.

You waited. And waited. Timing was everything. Simon’s arm, draped heavily across your waist, rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing. His presence was solid and warm, a comforting weight—but tonight, it was your obstacle.

Carefully, you began to inch away, moving like a prisoner attempting to slip past a sleeping guard. His hand twitched, and you froze, holding your breath. After a long moment, he let out a soft snore.

Victory.

Sliding out of bed, you padded quietly to the wardrobe, pulling on Simon’s oversized hoodie and slipping into your trusty anti-slip slippers. The eco bag was stashed by the door, waiting. You slipped it over your shoulder, opened the door as quietly as you could, and stepped out into the cool night air.

The noodle shop wasn’t far, but with the chill nipping at your cheeks, it felt like forever. When you finally reached the warm glow of the restaurant, the smells of rich broth and freshly steamed dumplings greeted you like an old friend.

Sliding into a seat, you ordered a large bowl of noodles and a plate of dumplings. The first bite was pure heaven—warm, savory, comforting. This wasn’t just food. This was rebellion. A delicious act of defiance against Simon’s overprotectiveness.

You ate quickly, savoring each bite but keeping an eye on the clock. You couldn’t risk being gone too long, or Simon might wake up. When you finished, you wiped your hands, packed your leftovers into your eco bag, and headed home, feeling victorious.

----------

Simon hadn’t stirred when you returned. You slipped into bed, placing the bag under the bed for good measure. His arm instinctively found your waist again, and you smiled to yourself, utterly pleased.

But this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.

----------

First Catch

It started feeling too easy. You’d mastered the art of sneaking out: the slow, deliberate slide from under Simon’s arm, the silent shuffle to the door, and the perfectly timed return. Your noodle escapades had become a nightly ritual.

But then, one night, your luck ran out.

You were tiptoeing into the kitchen, quietly opening the fridge to stash the leftover dumplings behind the unassuming bag of lettuce Simon would never touch, when a deep voice cut through the silence.

“Late-night fridge rearranging, are we?”

You jumped, spinning around with a gasp. Simon was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his imposing figure illuminated by the dim light of the open fridge.

Your mind scrambled for an excuse. “Uh... just wanted some water.”

“In my hoodie? And with an eco bag?” His eyebrow arched, unimpressed.

You tried to tuck the bag behind you, but Simon’s sharp eyes had already caught the unmistakable sheen of takeout containers poking out from the top. He strode forward, plucked the bag from your hands with an annoyingly effortless tug, and opened it.

The aroma of noodles and dumplings betrayed you instantly.

“Water, huh?” He held up a dumpling with mock seriousness. “This what they’re calling it these days?”

You gulped.

----------

Minutes later, you found yourself seated at the kitchen table like a scolded child. Simon, clad in sweatpants and a scowl, had taken over the stove. The sight of him cooking—rolling up his sleeves with a tired sigh—might’ve been endearing if you weren’t on the receiving end of his disapproval.

“You could’ve woken me,” he grumbled, cracking eggs into a bowl with more force than necessary.

“You were sleeping,” you mumbled.

“I’d rather get up than have you sneakin’ around at night,” he said, his tone gruff. “What if somethin’ happened, eh? You’re waddling about in the dark like a burglar.”

You snorted at the image, which earned you a sharp look.

“Not funny,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll make the bloody noodles if that’s what you want. Just stop sneakin’ out.”

You stayed silent, chewing on your lower lip. No way were you telling him about the noodle shop.

---------

Close Call

Old habits die hard. A few nights later, you were returning from the noodle shop, quietly slipping into the kitchen to stash your leftovers behind the condiments, when Simon stirred upstairs.

He came padding down the stairs just as you were closing the fridge.

“You were gone,” he murmured groggily, rubbing his face.

“Kitchen,” you lied quickly, holding up an empty glass of water as proof.

He hummed, unconvinced, and squinted at you. “Should’ve woken me.”

“For the kitchen?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“For whatever,” he grunted, his eyes scanning the counter before settling on the fridge. “Don’t like you wanderin’ about on your own.”

You gave him your best innocent smile and shuffled past him toward the stairs. Simon followed a moment later, his suspicion lingering like a shadow.

----------

Growing Suspicion

It started with a nagging feeling Simon couldn’t shake. You were always warm when you came back to bed, slightly out of breath, and he could swear he caught the faintest hint of soy sauce and sesame lingering in the air.

One night, as you slid into bed beside him, he cracked an eye open just enough to catch you pulling off his oversized hoodie. You were trying to be quiet, moving with all the stealth of someone trying not to get caught.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. But his mind was racing.

The next night, he pretended to be deep asleep as you started your routine. The slow untangling from his grasp, the soft shuffle to grab your hoodie and slippers. He cracked his eye open just as you tiptoed out of the room, eco bag in hand.

Simon lay there for a moment, his jaw tightening. He didn’t believe in jumping to conclusions without evidence—years of military experience had drilled that into him. But this was his wife, and the secrecy was starting to itch.

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The Watchful Eye

The next few nights, Simon kept up his act. He watched you go through the same routine: hoodie on, bag in hand, slippers padding softly across the floor. Each time, he waited until you were out of earshot before sitting up and staring at the door.

He debated following you right then and there but decided against it. Instead, he lay back, staring at the ceiling, letting the suspicion simmer.

Until one night, he’d had enough.

----------

Caught in the Act

Simon Riley, a man known for his ability to track an enemy through any terrain in total darkness, cracked one eye open as he heard the faint creak of the bedroom door. His wife, waddling like a stealthy penguin in his oversized hoodie, had escaped once again.

He sat up, running a hand down his face, and muttered, “Bloody hell.” This was the third time this week, and it was starting to feel personal. He reached for his jumper, his movements slow and deliberate.

By the time Simon made it outside, you were already a good distance ahead, waddling down the street with your eco bag swinging by your side. He trailed behind, staying in the shadows like a proper ghost, his breath visible in the chilly night air.

When you entered the noodle shop, he stopped just outside, watching through the window. You were already at a corner table, your face lighting up as the server placed a steaming bowl of noodles in front of you. Then came the dumplings, and your joy was almost palpable.

Simon shook his head, muttering, “Unbelievable,” before pushing the door open. The little bell above the door jingled, but you didn’t notice—too engrossed in your noodles.

He approached silently, stopping just behind you. “Enjoyin’ yourself, are ya?”

You froze mid-slurp, a noodle dangling from your lips. That voice. You’d recognize that deep, gravelly tone anywhere.

Slowly, you turned your head to see Simon standing there, arms crossed and a single brow arched. His expression was equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”

“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”

A/N:

Just a heads up—Captain Price’s fiancée in this story is the same lady from Papa Bear Material—Mama Bear! So, if you've read that story, you might recognize her. As for the characters of Y/N, both are technically the same person, so feel free to choose who you identify with!

Y/N’s been caught. And now, Simon’s not having it. And with that, stay tuned for Part 2. Simon’s not letting this go anytime soon…

Edit: Part 2 is here!----->

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