#and then last night i started spiraling and for the first time in a long time i could picture the worst possible thing i could do actually
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lovsome · 1 year ago
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big venting ahead :-{
#depression tw!!#sh tw!!#the last few days have been some of the hardest ive had in a long time#i feel like i always say this but it feels true every time tbh….#i feel like my brain is collapsing on itself…#just . very very bad thoughts and my head kinda going crazy and i guess partially acting on those thoughts#which is very very depressing tbh. i feel like im not gonna make it#ive been somewhat paralyzed these days. 80% of the time im awake i cant move. i have some moments when i can like get up and eat something#or something like that but other than that i spent all day yesterday sitting at my desk literally staring at the wall#because even moving a finger seemed like an impossible task to complete#and then last night i started spiraling and for the first time in a long time i could picture the worst possible thing i could do actually#happening#so i just cried. and cried. and i got in bed because that is the only place where i feel somewhat safe. from everything else but mostly#myself…#it doesnt help that no one cares#i was supposed to meet my friends to but#buy* stuff to cook for new years eve today but i texted them that i was having a crisis and i didnt think id be able go get up and go today#and it was implied and i also said that i was struggling but there was no response to that#there was barely any response at all#and this happened time and time again and when i tell my therapist shes always like#why dont u tell them? why dont u tell them that this behavior hurts u#and i just cant bring myself to do it. like i cant fathom hearing a close friend telling me that they’re struggling with depression and not#saying anything in response.#and i wonder maybe theres something about me where people just dont give a shit if i live or die basically#and i cant force someone to care about it thats why i dont say anything. but it sure as hell hurts#anyways.. i hooe today wont be as bad as yesterday
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flwrkid14 · 25 days ago
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Everyone Knows They’re Dating… Except Tim and Danny
To literally everyone, Tim and Danny are a couple. They’re so obvious about it, it’s almost annoying. Tim goes out of his way to prioritize Danny over anyone else—he’ll cancel plans, rearrange his schedule, and bend over backward to make sure Danny’s happy. Need coffee at 3 a.m.? Tim’s already out the door. A custom gadget? It’s in Danny’s hands before he even asks.
And Danny? Danny dotes on Tim in a way that’s almost overprotective. He ensures Tim eats, sleeps, and doesn’t completely drown himself in work. He’s always there, watching out for him, ready to step in if Tim ever needs help. And god help anyone who says a single bad word about Tim because Danny will defend him with a ferocity that borders on terrifying.
They live together. They cuddle to sleep. They share a bed. They have dinners together like it’s some weekly tradition. They wear each other’s clothes so often no one can tell whose hoodie is whose anymore. Sometimes they even plan matching outfits when they go out. Their “hangouts” are way too romantic and way too specific to not count as dates.
It’s obvious to everyone that Tim and Danny are dating. Everyone… except Tim and Danny.
The breaking point happens when Danny starts spending time with a new friend. Tim doesn’t even notice at first, but slowly, irritation starts bubbling under the surface. Why does Danny even need new friends? Doesn’t he already have Tim? And then the irritation morphs into a tight knot in his chest every time Danny talks about hanging out with this friend.
At first, Tim tells himself he’s just being logical—Danny is busy enough as it is, why stretch himself thinner? But when Danny cancels one of their movie nights to go out with this new friend, Tim spirals. He’s glued to his laptop but hasn’t typed anything in over an hour, too consumed with thoughts like: Is Danny replacing me? Am I not enough for him? Does he want someone else to be his best friend now?
He’s never been good at handling emotions, so naturally, he decides the best course of action is to bottle it all up and ignore it. That is until Steph shows up and immediately clocks that something’s wrong.
“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, slumping onto his couch.
“I’m not grumpy,” Tim lies, glaring at his laptop like it’s offended him personally.
Steph raises an eyebrow. “Right. So why are you moping like someone kicked your dog?”
“I’m not moping,” he mutters, crossing his arms.
Steph stares at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she pieces it together. She knows Danny’s out with some new friend, and now she’s looking at Tim, who’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal, glaring at his phone every few seconds. Her expression shifts—realization dawning, then sharp focus. “Oh my god, Tim. You’re jealous.”
Tim freezes. “What? No, I’m not. That’s ridiculous.”
Steph crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Tim as if he’s the most complicated puzzle she’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, let’s break this down,” she starts, her tone deliberate. “You’re upset that Danny’s out with someone else. You’re overthinking it, spiraling about whether or not you’re enough, and now you’re convinced you’ve somehow ruined everything… Does that sound like just ‘friend’ feelings to you?”
Tim freezes mid-pace, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “I—what?”
Steph raises an eyebrow. “Tim. You’re jealous.”
“I’m not—” Tim begins, but then stops, the denial catching in his throat. His brain scrambles to process her words, but the sinking feeling in his chest refuses to let him dismiss it. The pieces fall into place, one by one, each memory sharper than the last: the way his heart always lifts when Danny smiles, the quiet warmth of falling asleep next to him, the ache in his chest at the thought of Danny choosing someone else.
“Oh no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Oh my god. I’m jealous because—because I’m—”
Steph sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re jealous because you’re in love with Danny.”
Tim’s knees almost give out as the realization settles in. “I’m the worst friend in the world,” he blurts, his voice breaking. Tears spring to his eyes as he starts pacing again, his hands flying up in a panicked gesture. “I have no right to feel this way! He’s my best friend—he deserves someone better, someone who won’t ruin his life with… with whatever this is!”
Steph groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Tim, for the love of—you're already dating.”
He stops dead in his tracks, blinking at her like she’s just spoken another language. “What?”
“Seriously? You’re basically married,” Steph says, throwing her hands up. “He practically lives here, you do everything together, and you’re constantly rearranging your life for him. What part of that screams just friends to you?”
Tim’s mouth opens, then closes, his mind spinning as he replays every moment with Danny through a new lens. The quiet mornings when they share coffee in companionable silence. The way Danny always notices when he’s stressed and pulls him into a hug without a word. How being with Danny feels like breathing—natural, essential, like coming home.
And it all clicks.
Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with Danny.
The realization is overwhelming, a mix of panic and joy and sheer terror. But beneath all that, there’s something else—a quiet certainty. He doesn’t just love Danny; he’s in love with him, and he doesn’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.
Tim decides, then and there, that he has to confess. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that Danny feels the same, he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers. And if he doesn’t… well, there’s always Antarctica.
When Tim finally confesses, he pours his heart out in a way that’s so painfully earnest it makes Danny laugh.
“Tim,” Danny says, tears of laughter in his eyes, “I thought we were already dating.”
Tim blinks. “What?”
Danny grins. “Yeah, I kind of assumed we were. I mean, we live together. We share a bed. We cuddle. We’ve been wearing matching outfits for months, dude.”
“Oh.” Tim feels his face heat up.
Danny laughs again, pulling Tim into a hug. “You’re adorable, you know that?”
Tim buries his face in Danny’s shoulder, equal parts mortified and relieved. But hey, at least now they’re officially dating—or, well, aware of it.
Steph hears the whole story later and immediately texts them both: “Congrats on being the last ones to figure it out. True geniuses at work.”
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vunblr · 2 months ago
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The Weight of Choices
Pairing: Ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex, dirty talk. A little angst.
Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.
Word Count: About 8.9k.
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He was late. If Y/n didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose. Bucky had agreed to watch their son tonight so she could go on a date, the third one since their divorce two years ago. The last couple of times, she’d managed to find a friend to babysit, but Saturday nights were always tough. So in the end, she had no choice but to come clean and ask Bucky.
She could still hear his voice from that awkward phone call, his tone edged with surprise when she’d told him she had plans.
“A date?” he repeated, the edge of disbelief was hard to miss.
"Yeah," she’d replied casually, but Bucky’s silence lingered longer than usual. He hated texting, so phone calls had become their norm, even for the smallest of things.
“With who?” His attempt to sound nonchalant fell flat, the tension was evident, threading through every word.
“Chris,” she said, keeping her tone light, “You know, the music teacher at the kindergarten where I work? Blonde, easy smile... we walked past him once when he was out with his dog, Dodger.”
Bucky scoffed, the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew it. I knew he had a thing for you.”
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Oh, please.”
“Every time I’d drop by the kindergarten, he’d just… linger. His eyes followed you the whole time like he couldn’t look away. People don’t stare like that unless they’re thinking something. And the way he’d smile, all soft and attentive, he was trying too hard to be just a ‘friendly co-worker.” His voice had dropped a notch, as his irritation crept in.
“Are you serious?” she shot back, incredulous. But Bucky wasn’t done.
“How long’s this been going on?” The question came out more like an accusation.
“It’s our first date. You know I only recently started dating again,” she replied, her patience wearing thin.
He paused, clearly unsatisfied. “So what, he’s just been waiting for his chance, ready to pounce-”
“I’m going to stop you right there, James,” she interrupted firmly. “You’re not entitled to know anything about my love life the moment you decided you wanted the divorce.”
There was an uncomfortable silence on the line. She could hear him breathing, and the tension stretched between them, until finally, he sighed.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’ll take care of Benjamin on Saturday night.”
The recall of the conversation was interrupted by Ben, who wanted to show her what he did with his Legos.
Bucky had been sitting in front of the house for half an hour now. Sometimes, like tonight, he regretted what he’d done, but deep down, he knew it had been necessary. After the terrifying incident when Hydra agents attempted to kidnap their son, hoping to test if any of the serum’s powers had been passed down genetically, he realized that his past would eventually catch up with them. He had to make sure they were safe, even if it meant tearing apart everything they’d built.
He knew she wouldn’t understand if he told her the truth. If he had laid out his fears and his guilt and spiraled into a self-deprecating parade like he always did, she would have fought him and convinced him to stay. So he waited.
He knew the only way to make her believe it, was to weave in just enough truth to his argument, so, slowly he began pulling away, setting the stage for what would be his ultimate break. Late nights, distant conversations, an almost non-existent sexual life and missed moments with their son, all led to this. He needed her to see that the life they had wasn’t something he could carry anymore.
When the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He told her he felt suffocated by their life together. That the roles of husband and father were more than he could bear after everything he had been through. She didn’t believe him at first, and he could see the determination in her eyes, the will to fight for what they had.
So, he played the card he knew would make her stop fighting him. He spoke of the years he’d spent as a puppet, how he had never truly known freedom, never had control over his life. He appreciated everything she had done for him, all the love and support she had given, but it wasn’t enough. He needed air, space to figure out who he was beyond the roles he had been forced into. He made it sound like staying with her, staying in the family they’d built, was just another form of captivity.
It crushed her. Bucky could see the moment her resistance faded. She believed him, not because she wanted to, but because he made it seem so real. So she stood there, heartbroken, but unable to argue against the logic he’d presented.
The first months after the divorce were hard on both parts. For her, that time was the hardest, filled with sleepless nights and the nagging feeling that Bucky had simply abandoned her, walked away from their life, their love, without a second thought. She wrestled with the confusion and the heartbreak, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. For Bucky, it was a different kind of suffering. He bore the weight of his decision in silence, knowing he had walked away to protect them, but that didn’t ease the sting of loneliness or the guilt that clawed at him.
Their lives moved on separately. They saw each other only in passing, and even that was rare. Bucky would pick up Benjamin directly from daycare once a week, dropping him off the next morning before heading back to his life, careful to avoid lingering long enough for awkward conversations. Sometimes he didn’t make it at all, missing his time with his son when missions pulled him away. Immersing himself in his work was easier than facing what he had left behind, the family he still wanted but couldn’t allow himself to have. Meanwhile, she did her best to create some normalcy for Benjamin, even as the space Bucky left behind echoed through their small home.
Even though their lives had drifted apart, Bucky never truly let go. He kept his distance, but never far enough to lose sight of them. Unbeknownst to her, he knew everything that went on in the household, the daily rhythms of their life, the way she struggled and adapted to her new normal without him. From the shadows, Bucky lurked unnoticed in the neighborhood, always keeping an eye on them. She never noticed, never had a clue that even when he was away on missions, he somehow knew when Benjamin caught a cold or when she had a rough day at work.
It was a secret vigil that gave him a twisted sense of comfort, knowing they were safe even if they no longer shared the same home. He would catch fleeting glimpses of her tucking their son into bed or hear his faint laughter playing in the yard. It was enough to remind him of what he’d lost, but not enough to bring him back to the life he believed he couldn’t have.
That was why Bucky was caught off guard when she mentioned her date with that guy, the music teacher. He never saw that coming. He had always known the man had a soft spot for her, could see it in the way he acted whenever she was around, how he lingered a little longer during pick-ups at the kindergarten, helping to manage the children even if it wasn’t his job, always with an excuse to retain her and talk. His body language was an open book. But back then, Bucky had dismissed him as harmless, barely giving him a second thought. To him, Chris had always been like a friendly Labrador: approachable, with no bite. A non-threat.
But now, that harmless Labrador had grown fangs. The guy wasn’t just hanging around the edges anymore; he was stepping in, taking her to dinner, moving into a space Bucky had once occupied. And he had no choice but to suck it up and watch it happen, watch her walk out the door with him. He could handle the distance, the brief moments of tension when they had to interact, but this? The idea of Chris sitting across from her at a candlelit table, making her laugh, holding her gaze... it twisted his guts.
And God knows what else would happen after dinner. Would Chris try to kiss her goodnight? Would she let him? Or worse, would they end up back at his place? His mind ran wild with the possibility of them taking things further, crossing a line he never wanted to imagine. Would she let him touch her in ways Bucky used to, let him see sides of her only he had known? He knew he had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from torturing him.
Eventually, he glanced at the clock and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. There was no point in torturing himself any further, he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer.
Reaching the front porch, Bucky hesitated for a moment. He straightened his posture adjusting his clothes, then knocked on the door. As he waited, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the tension.
When the door finally swung open, for a split second, neither of them spoke. Her eyes widened just a little, her lips parting as she took him in. It had been a long time since she’d seen him. His hair had grown back to shoulder length, a few strands falling loose across his forehead. A three-day stubble sharpened his jawline, in a way that made him look rugged and effortlessly handsome. And was he wearing that shirt? The red and black lumberjack one that used to drive her wild?
Bucky caught her reaction and hit him like a shot of adrenaline. When he exited the bathroom that night and picked what to wear, he told himself it was just practical, something comfortable to wear while watching and playing with Ben. The cologne? Just a habit. But deep down, a part of him knew the truth: he wanted her to notice, and that split-second when her eyes widened, scanning him from head to toe, told him everything. She noticed. She definitely noticed. And something about that felt like a victory, even though he wasn’t supposed to be playing that game anymore.
He stared at her longer than necessary, his blue gaze drifting over the black dress she wore. New, he realized. It hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. The hemline? Too short for his liking. He clenched his jaw slightly, knowing full well Chris would be thrilled to see her like this.
Forcing himself to snap out of it, Bucky cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Hey,” he said, low and calm, though the tension still simmered beneath the surface. “You look... good.” He meant it, but the words tasted bitter.
"Thanks," she said, politely but distant, deliberately choosing not to compliment him back. She lingered for a moment, then added, “You’re late.”
Bucky flinched inwardly at the remark, though he kept his expression neutral. "Traffic," he muttered, stepping inside as she moved aside to let him in. An awkward silence settled between them, the air thick with things left unsaid.
Her fingers toyed with the edge of her dress as she cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence. “Ben is in the bathroom,” she said, casually, but there was a tension beneath it. “You can wait for him in the living room.”
“Right,” Bucky replied, nodding stiffly. He walked past her and into the living room, the space feeling both familiar and foreign at the same time. He took a seat, trying to shake off the strange energy between them, but his mind kept wandering back to the fact that she was dressed for someone else.
A moment later, the doorbell rang, and she turned toward the sound, visibly relieved. She opened the door, and Bucky heard Chris’s voice, a cheerful greeting that she surely responded to with a soft, warm smile. Bucky didn’t need to see it, her tone was different with him, softer, more open.
“Hey,” Chris said with bright tone, though there was a subtle shift when he paused. There was a beat of silence before he added, “You look amazing.”
Bucky couldn’t help it. Something pulled him from the couch, and before he knew it, he was standing in the hall, watching the interaction from a few feet away. His eyes narrowed as he observed Chris, sizing him up instinctively. Chris was taller than he remembered, clean-cut in a casual but neat button-down shirt, his easy smile faltering just a fraction when his eyes darted past her, catching sight of Bucky standing there.
Chris’s brows furrowed, but he quickly masked his reaction, giving Bucky a curt nod. “Uh, hey,” he greeted awkwardly, glancing between them.
It was her turn to narrow her eyes. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him. Bucky stood at the edge of the hallway, staring directly at Chris, his expression unreadable. His eyes locked onto the man without blinking. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything, just staring.
Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. Really? A display of male dominance, here and now? After everything he’d put her through, the mess he’d made of their lives, he suddenly decided he had the right to act territorial? What exactly did he think he was entitled to? The nerve of it sent a wave of irritation through her, tightening her grip on her coat.
But what frustrated her even more -what really troubled her- was that a part of her didn’t mind. Beneath her annoyance, something stirred, deep and undeniable, lurking just beneath the surface. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but his presence still had a hold on her. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she wanted to believe. Maybe, despite everything, there was still a part of her that reacted to him, to the way he watched her, the way he used to make her feel like the center of his world.
Before those feelings could rise any further, before she could let herself dwell on what they meant, she quickly turned back to Chris. She forced a bright smile, pushing away the conflicted thoughts swirling in her mind.
“We should get going,” she said, pretending not to notice the tension still hanging in the air. She stepped closer to Chris, signaling it was time to leave, hoping to put some distance between her and the weight of Bucky’s gaze.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky stood frozen in place for a moment, the tension that had gripped him not easing, even with their absence. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, pressing down on him. His chest tightened as he stared at the closed door, half-expecting her to walk back in. Of course, she didn’t.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene in his head: her standing there, beautiful and confident, and Chris… that guy was so normal, so easygoing. Exactly what she deserved. Exactly what Bucky could never be. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. What was he even doing? He had no right, he was the one who walked away. He was the one who made her believe she wasn’t enough to keep him, that he wanted out. And now, here he was, silently raging because she was moving on, exactly like he supposedly wanted.
Stupid. That was the only word he could come up with to describe how he felt. Stupid for showing up looking the way he did, stupid for thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could still affect her. But what for? His job was to protect her and their son from the shadows, not to stand in the doorway, playing the part of some jealous lover. But God, it hurt more than he expected.
He crossed the living room, his steps heavy against the floor, and slumped into the couch. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the TV in the background. Ben was still in the bathroom, probably playing with the liquid soap and making a mess, unaware of the tangled web of emotions his father was caught in.
The hours slipped by, though Bucky barely noticed at first. Benjamin was beyond excited to have his dad all to himself for the evening. They played, joked, and built elaborate lego fortresses, the boy’s laughter filling the house with a warmth Bucky hadn’t realized he missed so much. For a little while, he was able to shove everything else to the back of his mind. Being a dad, just a dad, felt like a relief. But every now and then, his gaze would drift to the clock on the wall. He couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to stay in the moment with his son, there was a lingering pull, a constant, nagging thought of where she was.
After he’d put Ben to bed, Bucky’s mind wandered back to the date. The image of her in that black dress haunted him, the way Chris had looked at her, the possibility of what might have happened after dinner. His thoughts spiraled, even though he knew it was none of his business anymore. He poured himself a scotch, the amber liquid swirling in his glass as he tried -and failed- to push the thoughts aside.
Eventually, the sound of the front door opening cut through the quiet. The familiar click of her shoes against the entryway tile echoed through the house, sharp and distinct. She was home.
Bucky didn’t move. He stayed where he was, seated at the old teakwood table, nursing his scotch. The only light on in the house was the dim glow above the kitchen, so she’d find him.
The sound of her footsteps grew closer, and he listened intently, his heart beating just a little faster despite his best efforts to keep calm.
She entered the kitchen, her steps a little less steady than usual, mumbling a soft “Hi” as she made her way inside. Bucky glanced up, immediately sensing that she was a little tipsy. She didn’t meet his eyes, just plopped down in the chair next to him with a tired sigh. “God, my feet are killing me,” she muttered, kicking off her heels and wincing.
For a while, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the fridge. She sighed absentmindedly, then reached for his glass of scotch, taking a sip without asking. He was taken aback by the casual intimacy of the gesture, but he said nothing, just watched her as she leaned back in her chair.
Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Want me to rub your feet?” He froze. He couldn’t believe he’d said it, half-expecting her to snap at him or give him one of her sharp retorts.
But instead, she surprised him. She looked over at him, her eyes tired but soft, and then shrugged. “Yeah...” she said, a little more relaxed than he expected.
Bucky blinked, caught off guard by her response. His heart thudded against his ribcage as he moved toward her, kneeling down in front of her chair. His fingers hovered hesitantly over her ankle before gently wrapping around it, lifting her foot onto his knee.
As he began to knead his thumbs into her sore muscles, the tension that had been brewing in him all night seemed to ease, just a little. Her head lolled back against the chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this, touching her again in this way, after everything. He shouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relax more as the seconds passed, letting her guard down in a way that felt dangerously familiar.
“So... how was the date?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost too casual as he broke the silence.
Her eyes fluttered open at the question, and for a moment, he thought she might brush him off or remind him that it wasn’t his business. But instead, she gave a small shrug, her tone indifferent. “It was fine.”
Bucky frowned slightly, pressing his thumbs a little harder into the arch of her foot. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else pushing his hands. “Fine?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice even.
“Yeah,” she murmured, closing her eyes. Her voice was soft, almost distracted. “Just... fine.”
He wasn’t satisfied with that. He couldn’t help himself, he pressed, his tone still light but with a thread of tension beneath it. “Only... fine?”
She sighed, her eyes still closed as if trying to keep the conversation from getting deeper. “What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but there was a subtle edge in her words. “That it was amazing? That he swept me off my feet? Some dirty little details?”
Bucky’s fingers stilled for a moment, resting against her foot as he met her gaze. He didn’t respond right away, unsure if he even wanted to hear the truth, whatever it might be. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice a little more vulnerable than he intended.
“It was just fine, nothing more, nothing less”
A silence settled between them, but he wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Are you going to see each other again outside work?” he ventured, his hands slowly moving up her shin, his touch hesitant but growing bolder. The fact that she didn’t push him away emboldened him further. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
Bucky’s hands continued their slow ascent, fingers brushing over her calf and then her knee, his touch firm but careful. When she didn’t pull away, he felt his pulse quicken. The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of things unsaid.
“In a way,” she finally answered, her voice elusive, a touch distant. She shifted slightly in her chair, subtly parting her thighs as his hands wandered higher. The movement was small, but enough for him to catch it. His breath hitched, and his gaze flicked down to her legs before rising back up to her face, darkening with lust.
"Care to... elaborate?" he pressed again, his voice lower now, rougher. His fingers slid up to her inner thigh, lingering there with a possessive grip as if testing her reaction. Her legs instinctively spread wider beneath his touch, and that simple motion sent a rush of heat through him.
She shifted slightly, as if searching for the right words. "He’s... nice," she finally said, a bit breathless under his touch. "He’s thoughtful, considerate, makes me laugh…” Her lips twitched in a small smile, but it quickly faded as she looked down at his hand resting on her thigh. “He’s... good.”
Bucky’s thumb paused, pressing a little harder, as he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. “…And?”
She sighed, her eyes opening again to meet his intense gaze. “And… he’s not you.”
His grip on her thigh tightened involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat. He’d pushed her away, done everything he could to sever the ties between them, convinced himself it was for her protection. But now, hearing her admit that, it sent his head spinning.
“He’s not you.”
The room seemed smaller, the air heavier, as the tension between them crackled like electricity. His hand inched higher, dangerously close to where he could feel the heat radiating off her body. Every instinct in him screamed to close the distance, to take what he wanted, to forget everything that had led them to this point. But he forced himself to stop, his gaze locking onto hers, searching her face for any sign that she would tell him to stop.
She didn’t. Instead, she held his gaze, her breathing shallow as if waiting to see what he would do next.
Bucky’s grip tightened again. Fuck it. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her other inner thigh, his stubble grazing her skin as he inhaled her scent deeply, a growl rumbling in his chest. She tensed, feeling him nip gently at her sensitive flesh, and then a slow, deliberate lick followed, sending a shiver through her.
"Did he behave, or..." he paused, his tongue teasing the same spot before he looked up at her, his lips brushing her thigh as he continued, "...things got handsy?"
A gasp escaped her when she felt his mouth so dangerously close to where she wanted it most. Her head tilted back just slightly, her body betraying her as desire pooled in her belly. His eyes flicked up, meeting hers, their blue depths darkened with lust, and something more. His lips remained pressed against her skin, refusing to budge until he had his answer.
"You let him touch you?" His voice was a husky whisper, laced with jealousy.
She exhaled slowly, her breath shaky as the memory flickered through her mind. "Yes," she admitted, her voice low, reluctant. "But just briefly, when we ki—"
Before she could finish, Bucky’s hand shifted, moving up to cup her mound, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her words died in her throat, a sharp intake of breath replacing them as his touch ignited a fire that spread through her veins. His hand was deliberate, unapologetic in the way it claimed her, the heel of his palm pressing against her pussy as if he had every right to be there.
"And then?" His question hung in the air, but she couldn’t find the words immediately.
Her lips parted as she finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I wanted to feel something... but I didn’t. I just didn’t."
Her confession landed between them like a spark to dry wood, setting the tension ablaze. Bucky’s hand remained where it was, but his thumb stroked over the wet fabric, teasing her, testing her resolve as his gaze bore into hers. She had said what he needed to hear, what he craved to know, and now, there was no turning back.
Bucky’s thumb slid the fabric of her underwear aside, his fingers unhesitating as they slipped between her folds, finding her slick with need. He brushed upward, just barely grazing her clit, watching with dark, heavy-lidded eyes as she gasped at the contact. Her body arched involuntarily, but he didn’t relent, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, teasing her just enough to drive her crazy but not enough to give her what she craved.
“And…” he murmured, rasping against the tension rising between them, “how long did it take you to realize you’d had enough? That it wasn’t going to work?”
His thumb circled lazily, making her hips shift forward, chasing the friction he barely offered. The question hung in the air, laced with his possessiveness, through every word. He didn’t wait for an answer, his fingers delving deeper inside her, coating themselves in her arousal before they moved back up, brushing over her clit again, this time with more pressure.
"One kiss?" His lips curled in a half-smirk as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He dipped his fingers inside her again, slow, dragging them out just as leisurely. "Two?"
She trembled, unable to form a coherent response, the sensation of his touch overwhelming her senses after so long. Her breath hitched as his fingers increased their pace, every stroke purposeful, designed to unravel her. Bucky leaned upward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “How long, doll?” The way he said it, like a dare, made her heart race even faster.
Her head fell back, her body betraying any attempt at control as she whispered breathlessly, “One…”
A satisfied growl rumbled from him, his fingers rewarding her honesty with a firmer stroke, sending her spiraling closer to the edge.
It wasn’t fair. He had cast her aside, almost without looking back, tearing her world apart with his cold departure. And now here she was, grinding her pussy against his fingers like some desperate, needy whore, begging for more. A part of her wanted to slap him, to shove him away and scream at him for every sleepless night she spent wondering why she wasn’t enough, why he had thrown their life away so easily. She wanted to tell him how much she hated him for walking out on them.
But then, there was that traitorous side of her. The part that had never stopped hoping. The part that had always waited, held out some foolish, silent hope that he’d come back. That she’d see that flicker of warmth in his eyes again, the one that told her she was his entire world. And it wasn’t just her heart that longed for him, her body had missed him, too. She hated herself for it. For still thinking about him late at night when she touched herself, fingers slipping between her thighs as his name slipped from her lips in the darkness.
And that same traitorous side of her had ruined her date with Chris. She’d tried to be present, to laugh, to be charmed by his warm smile and thoughtful gestures. But all night, all she could think about was Bucky.
The way he’d looked at him, cold and assessing, as if he didn’t belong there, his presence filling the hallway like he still had some claim to it, to her. What was he trying to prove, anyway? That he was still the man of the house?
She hated how, even while Chris was talking, her mind drifted back to the feeling of Bucky’s fingers tracing his stupid shirt, her memory filling in the rough, familiar feel of his hands on her skin. And she knew, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud, that some part of her had wanted him to see her dressed up, to feel in some small way the longing and ache she’d carried in his absence.
And maybe that’s why she’d felt nothing when Chris had leaned in for a kiss, why his gentle smile and soft touches had felt hollow. Even his laugh, light and kind, hadn’t stirred her because it wasn't Bucky’s rough, rumbling chuckle or his stupidly confident grin. Bucky, in all his infuriating ways, still occupied every corner of her mind.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his fingers worked her closer to the edge. She wanted to be angry, to let that rage consume her, but every time she opened her mouth to say something hurtful, to lash out at him, her body betrayed her. Every roll of her hips against his hand, every needy whimper that slipped from her throat, reminded her of just how much she had missed this.
It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t stop.
With a light pinch on her swollen clit, the tension snapped, and she came hard on his fingers. Her mouth fell open, a moan escaping as her body convulsed, riding the wave of pleasure that coursed through her. The world blurred around her as her climax took over, her hips grinding against his hand, chasing every last second of the release.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a mix of the overwhelming pleasure and the emotional storm swirling inside her. A few finally escaped, rolling silently down her cheeks, but before she could turn away, Bucky was there, his lips brushing them away with surprising tenderness. His breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered soft, comforting words she could barely make out, something about how beautiful she was, how good she had been for him, as if they hadn’t been tangled up in all this pain and heartache.
His touch was almost reverent as he slowly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening from her release. Their gazes met, and he didn’t break eye contact as he brought those same fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate, agonizing slowness. He stood up in one fluid motion, effortlessly lifting her from the chair by the waist as if she weighed nothing, and in a swift, controlled movement, he placed her on top of the table, positioning himself between her legs.
Before she could even process it, his arms were around her, pulling her into a bear hug that was both tight and needy. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he inhaled deeply, taking her in.
He held her as if letting go was not an option, his grip firm yet strangely vulnerable. The way he clung to her felt like both a claim and an apology, urgent -almost broken- like he was holding onto her not just physically, but emotionally, too.
“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and low, against her neck. He didn’t dare look at her, not yet, because if he did, if he saw doubt or rejection in her eyes, it would break him.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Each second felt like an eternity. His breath was uneven, ragged, as he waited for her to say something, anything. Another moment passed, tension coiling tighter in his chest until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers, bracing himself for the worst. But instead of the words that would send him away, he saw her eyes flicker downward to his lips. It was brief, a split-second decision, but it was enough.
So he leaned in, cautiously at first, like he was testing the waters after years of distance. His lips brushed against hers softly, almost hesitant, as if afraid this fragile moment would break apart. But the second she responded, it was like a dam broke. His hands cradled her face, deepening the kiss with desperation. It was messy, all-consuming, there was no gentleness, no tenderness. This was not the careful, delicate dance of two people testing the waters. This was hunger, a ravenous need to reclaim what had been lost. His lips moved down to her jaw, her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, and she moaned softly, her fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked on the sensitive skin below her ear.
His hands gripped her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer until her body was flush against his. The need to feel her, to claim her, was overwhelming. It was like two years of silence, longing, and frustration had ignited in an instant, everything that had been pushed down now surging forward, unstoppable.
“I’ll ask you again, babydoll. Are you sure you want this?” Bucky’s voice was thick with restraint, the tension in his muscles barely contained as he hovered over her, his breath hot against her neck. He was giving her one last chance to stop this, to pull away, even though every fiber of his being was screaming for her. But instead of words, her answer was a quiet, deliberate motion. Her hand slid between them, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, her fingers brushing against the outline of his erection.
A low growl escaped him, and his hand shot down to catch her wrist, halting her movements. His gaze met hers, dark and intense, his chest heaving with barely restrained desire. “I need you to say it,” he murmured, voice rough, on the edge of control.
“Yes,” she whispered.
That was all he needed.
Without hesitation, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion, not bothering with the buttons, his muscles flexing as the fabric slid off. The moment his skin was free, he didn’t give himself time to think. His eyes locked on hers as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. With a sharp tug, the fabric tore easily under his grip, the sound of it ripping filling the air. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze.
“Hey! It was brand new, you know?” she protested.
“I noticed,” he replied, his fingers grazing the tattered edge of her dress. “But you didn’t buy it to wear it for me, did you?” His voice dropped, thick with jealousy as he alluded to her date with Chris. He dipped his head, his lips hovering just above her exposed skin, his breath warm against her chest. “I don’t want it on you”. He latched his lips onto her nipple, his tongue swirling with a hungry need, while his vibranium fingers pinched and teased her other breast. His breath was hot against her chest as he whispered between kisses, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you.” His words came out rough, full of longing that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Every night... thinking about touching you again. Tasting you. Making you come over my cock.”
Her body responded, arching into him. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan, afraid that maybe Ben could hear her, but it slipped out anyway.
His hands moved to her thighs, gripping them firmly as he let out a low growl. “I thought about this, over and over... how you’d feel under me, how you’d sound when I made you scream my name again.” His voice was thick, hoarse, as he tugged at her dress, tearing the fabric completely until it was nothing but rags on the floor. He didn’t stop there, his thumbs slipping under the waistband of her flimsy panties. With a swift tug, the seams gave way, tearing effortlessly in his hands. He brought the soaked cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply, groaning as if the scent alone was enough to drive him insane. “God, I’ve missed this,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. He flicked his tongue against the ruined cloth, savoring the taste with a low, hungry growl.
Without warning, he tossed the panties aside. His hands moved quickly, unbuttoning what remained of his jeans and kicking off his shoes before sliding the denim and underwear down in one fluid motion. They hit the floor with a soft thud as he stepped toward her. “Tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly.
She stared at him, drinking him in. He looked leaner, his body sculpted in sharp lines of muscle. He’d lost weight, surely by going mission after mission mixed with his poor eating habits. He was never good at taking care of himself. She almost missed the small paunch he used to have these last years, the one he hated, but she’d loved to bite. There was something comforting about that softness, but now he was the embodiment of raw strength.
Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on the sight of his cock, standing at full attention. She swallowed. Apparently, her memories failed to measure up to reality. He was big, sure, she’d always known that, but this big? Her core tightened with need, clenching in raw anticipation.
"I missed you,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, laced with longing as her eyes lifted to meet his. “So much… you have no idea. God, you’ve ruined me.”
Her words shattered whatever restraint he had left. He’d imagined, countless times, that if this moment ever came, he’d take his time, savor her, and make it last. But now, faced with her beneath him, so close and so ready, patience was a luxury he no longer possessed.
Without a second thought, he gripped her thighs and spread her wide on the table, lining himself up as he dragged the head of his cock along her entrance, coating himself in her slick heat. In a swift, desperate thrust, he drove into her, hard and deep, filling her completely as a ragged groan escaped his lips.
She cried out, her body responding immediately, arching into him as he slammed into her again. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force, and his own moved in a relentless rhythm, every thrust driving him deeper. He couldn’t stop. Her moans spurred him on, her words circling in his head like a drug.
“Ruined you, huh?” His breath was ragged as he pulled almost all the way out, teasing her with the loss, before slamming back in. “Let me remind you how much.” With a raw hunger that had been bottled up far too long, Bucky's thrusts became brutal, each one driving her back along the table, her nails scraping against the wood as he took her over and over. The grip on her hips was iron-hard, pinning her down so she could do nothing but take everything he gave her. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “Think anyone else could ever do this?” he murmured, his voice dark and rough, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. His lips ghosted along her jaw, and he pushed her to answer, knowing the effect he was having on her. “Tell me,” he demanded softly “Could anyone else make you feel like this?” He wanted her to say it, to make her admit that no one else would ever satisfy her the way he could.
She whimpered, clutching at his shoulders as he pounded into her, her nails digging into his skin as he pushed her higher and higher. “No… no one else.” Her words were broken, barely audible over her moans, but it was all he needed to hear.
“That’s right” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough, “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he breathed, each word laced with raw possession as he thrust deeper. “Only me,” he rasped. “Only I get to make you feel this way.”
He growled, one hand leaving her hip to slide between them, his fingers pressing down on her clit in quick, merciless circles. “This is mine,” he hissed, metal fingers working just enough to bring her close before pulling away, only to return just as she thought she couldn’t take any more.
She cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he drove her to the edge. His pace never faltered, his hips grinding against hers with a relentless rhythm, and his grip on her only tightened as she arched off the table, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice thick with lust and something darker, something possessive. His hands slid down the back of her thighs, pushing her legs up against her torso as he plunged deeper, she could barely breathe every time he bottomed out. The way he hit her, the pressure at her cervix, sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through her, each one making her mewl helplessly. Her thighs shook against his chest, her hands desperately clutching at his forearms, fingers digging into his skin.
He leaned in closer again, his face inches from hers, his lips brushing her ears as he growled, “Tell me you’re mine.”
"I’m yours… fuck, Bucky!" she complied, her voice breaking between her panting breaths.
"Again," he ordered, his hips slamming into hers, the table creaking under the force of his movements. He could feel her walls clenching around him, so tight, so wet, he almost lost control then and there.
“I’m yours,” she whimpered again, her voice shaky, breathless.
“Chris will be so disappointed to hear that” he growled. “Let’s make sure you stay ruined, just in case.” He was relentless now, fucking her hard, deep, his body pressing hers further into the table as he pushed her thighs harder against her body giving him even better access, hitting that sensitive spot that left her gasping, his grip and the relentless pace leaving no room for anything but the sensation of him filling her completely, over and over.
She whimpered in response, too overwhelmed to speak, her entire body tensing as the pleasure became almost unbearable. His thumb moved between them again pressing against her clit, rubbing circles that sent sparks of heat shooting through her. She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm built rapidly, her body teetering on the edge.
“Milk my cock.” he ordered, his voice harsh, primal. His words pushed her over the edge and then she was gone, her body shivering violently as she clenched around him, her thighs tightening around him as her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer. The sound of his name fell from her lips, half-whisper, half-cry as the climax gripped her, intense and all-consuming, leaving her a trembling, breathless mess.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled through gritted teeth, his hips snapping into hers with bruising force. “And then some more,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw need. “You won’t even be able to keep it all in, babydoll.”
With a final thrust, Bucky’s head fell back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he reached his climax. His body trembled, muscles tensing as he spilled himself inside her, a heated wave of release filling her completely. He held her there, his cock kept pulsing until his release overflowed, warm and thick, beginning to trickle down, pooling beneath them.
Still buried inside her, Bucky loosened his grip on her thighs, hands sliding down to cradle her waist as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against her shoulder. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as the heat of their union slowly ebbed, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of them seemed prepared for.
After a moment, he gently eased himself away, untangling their bodies but letting his hands linger at her hips, as though afraid to lose the connection. He took a step back, his gaze dropping for a moment before lifting to meet hers, hoping she’d break the silence but she didn’t look at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
Bucky’s chest tightened, a familiar pang surfacing as he watched her withdraw inward, her mind elsewhere despite the intimacy they’d just shared. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, tentative. “So… what now, Bucky?”
He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I don’t… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to hold her gaze. “I know I shouldn’t have done this. Not after…” He hesitated, but the truth slipped out anyway. “Not after what I put you through.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her expression, old wounds resurfacing. “Then why did you put me through this, Bucky?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with pain. “You said you couldn’t do this. That you needed space, that we were holding you back.” Her words hung heavy in the air, each one a quiet accusation tinged with vulnerability. “And now, you’re here, acting like…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…acting like you never left.”
He hesitated, knowing this was his chance to finally tell her the truth or let her keep believing the lie he’d used to protect them. He rubbed a hand over his face, then lowered it, meeting her gaze with raw honesty. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I left because I was afraid that my past... everything I tried to bury might come back to hurt you. Hurt him.” His voice softened. “I thought if you believed I didn’t want this life, it would keep you safe.”
He glanced down, his hand twitching at his side before he looked up again, his voice hushed but resolute. "But… I want to come back,” he admitted, the words raw, like they’d been buried deep for too long. “To the house. To you, and Benjamin.”
A chill lingered in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself, gaze flicking over their scattered clothes still strewn across the kitchen floor. She looked away, her shoulders tense as she rubbed her temples. "So, what’s changed, Bucky? The risks are still there, the same threats, the same fears..."
Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver, his hand reaching out as though to touch her, but he stopped short, fingers brushing the edge of the table instead. "What’s different is me. I’ve had time to face what I couldn’t before. Stepping aside didn’t keep you safer; it just kept me away. I don’t want Ben growing up with a dad who keeps him and his mom at arm’s length. Almost a stranger.” His voice softened, the vulnerability seeping through. “Being apart from you doesn’t make things better. I miss you, doll. I miss us.”
“You can’t just leave and come back like nothing happened, Bucky.” Her voice was softer this time, almost breaking. “I wanted you here… every day, every night. Not just for me, but for Benjamin.” Her voice trembled with raw vulnerability.
He took a step closer, his hand hovering near hers, unsure if she’d pull away. “I know, and I hate that I ever thought leaving was the answer.” His tone was low, his gaze steady on her.
She looked down, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, emotions tightening her expression. “If you come back, I need to know you’re here to stay,” she whispered, the words more for herself than for him. “Because I don’t think I can go through this again… and I won’t let him either.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her hands gripping the table harder as if to keep herself grounded.
Her words shattered the last remnants of his restraint. Without another thought, Bucky dropped to his knees in front of her, the hard tile digging into him as he pressed his forehead against her thigh. She sucked in a breath, her hand instinctively moving to his hair, fingers trembling as they brushed against him. He could feel her hesitation, the walls she’d built so carefully to guard herself from the ache he’d left behind.
“Say yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with the vulnerability he could no longer hide. “Say yes, doll. I know I don’t deserve it.” His hands gripped her hips, anchoring him as if she were the only thing keeping him steady. “But I swear,” His voice cracked, raw and pleading. “I swear, I’ll never walk away again. Not from you, not from Benjamin.”
She looked down, a mix of shock and pain written on her face as she saw him there, broken, open, begging her for something she’d once offered so freely. Her hand gently settled on his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth of her touch, feeling the softness of her fingers against the rough stubble of his jaw. The ache in her eyes nearly undid him, but he stayed there, his forehead still pressed to her thigh, his breath heavy, waiting.
Her eyes searched his, and slowly, her resolve began to waver, the smallest flicker of trust finding its way back into her gaze. "Then prove it," she whispered, barely trusting herself as her hand lingered against his cheek, the warmth of her palm seeping into him. "Show me you’re here to stay."
After her words hung in the air, a fragile silence between them, Bucky’s gaze dropped. He swallowed, his hand reaching for something inside the scattered clothes on the floor.
From his back pocket, he drew out a small, well-worn leather charm, a little star-shaped pendant, its edges smoothened from years of handling. She recognized it immediately. It was something she’d passed on to him when he left for his first mission after they married, a symbol she hoped would keep him safe. She thought it had been lost long ago, like so many pieces of them.
He held it out to her, and the look on his face was raw, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen since the early days. “I never stopped carrying this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick. “Even when I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying away. I couldn’t let go of you…of us. I kept it close, hoping… hoping someday I could come back and give it back to you. I know it doesn’t make up for the time I lost, but…” His voice faltered, the sincerity there unmistakable.
She stared at the pendant, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out, fingers grazing the familiar leather. All the memories it held, the late-night goodbyes, the whispered promises, the hope she’d once tied to it, all of it rushed back, filling the space between them.
She looked down at him, seeing in his eyes the weight of the years, the regrets, but also the glimmer of the man she’d fallen in love with.
Taking a shaky breath, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… this was supposed to keep you safe, Bucky. Keep us safe.”
“And it did,” he replied softly, his hand covering hers over the charm. “It kept you here.” He paused, his voice barely a murmur. “And maybe now… it can bring me back home.”
The last of her defenses wavered, and she felt herself letting go of the anger, the hurt, all the pieces that had kept them apart. “Maybe… maybe it was always meant to guide you back here,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his with a warmth he hadn’t seen in years. “So if you’re really here to stay… then welcome home, Bucky.”
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Dividers by: @strangergraphics
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seren1tyhaze · 3 months ago
Text
Unconditional
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PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader
WORD COUNT: 1.9k
SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx
WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing
PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend
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“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”
Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.
“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.
You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.
Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.
Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”
“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”
Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.
Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.
“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”
“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.
“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.
A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.
“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.
Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.
The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.
“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.
“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.
You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.
That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.
“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.
You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.
“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”
“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.
You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.
“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.
“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.
“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.
“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.
“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.
Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.
“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.
“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.
“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.
“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.
“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.
You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.
“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.
You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.
You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.
You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.
He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.
“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.
When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.
“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.
“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.
“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.
He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.
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reginyani · 9 days ago
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Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? | s.reid x fem!reader
summary: spencer's addiction to dilaudid begins to become clearer to the team, but especially to you, when he starts calling you late at night, slurring his words and confessing random things that you can only take with a grain of salt.
cw: spencer's addiction to dilaudid, addiction in general, high!reid, use of Y/N, fem!bau!reader
wc: 918 words 4957 characters
authors note: the only way to promore fanfictions on tumblr is reblogging, so reblog if you enjoyed this!
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It was late, far too late for you to be awake, but instead of sleeping, you were pacing through your apartment. Your mind was racing, filled with worries that you couldn't shake no matter what. The last case had been brutal, but it wasn’t the case that had you worried—it was Spencer.
Ever since he had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he hadn’t been the same. It had been weeks since you’d noticed the subtle signs—almost everyone did. The slight tremor in his hand, the way he'd seemed more tired than usual, and the flushed skin that never seemed to go away. You knew he was on drugs, and almost everyone seemed to know too. He was good at hiding it, but you could still tell something was wrong.
Then there were the calls.
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You had received another one tonight, about an hour ago. The all-too-familiar ring of your phone echoed through your quiet apartment. You groaned, picking it up and squinting at the name on the screen. It was blurry from your sleepy state, but it read “Spencer Reid”. When you saw his name, you knew. He never called at a normal hour, and he was always high when he did. It had happened multiple times over the past few weeks—each time, his words slurred, his voice thick with that unmistakable fog of sedation.
You answered, like you always did, hoping to talk him down, convince him to go to sleep, and make sure he was okay. Though those things had given you reassurance each time, you knew he was miles away from any sign of sober clarity.
"Y/N?" His voice cracked, vibrating through the line as you held the phone up to your ear.
"I'm here, Reid," you replied softly, letting out a yawn. You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
There was a long pause, a breath, then in a hushed whisper, he replied, "I... I miss you..."
The pang in your chest was hard to ignore, but you held it back. This wasn’t the first time he had said something like that during these late-night calls when he was high. You knew what it meant—or rather, what it didn’t mean. Spencer was spiraling, and in these moments, his thoughts often got tangled up.
You ignored his comment. "You need to get some rest, Spencer. You're not in a clear state right now," you said carefully.
"I'm fine," he insisted, but his words sounded slurred. "I just... I just want to tell you something."
You immediately knew where this was going. These bursts of confessions had happened before. In his drug-induced state, Spencer was unguarded and said things he definitely wouldn’t if he were sober. But nothing ever came of them, so you’d learned to take them with a grain of salt.
"You don’t need to tell me anything right now, Reid. You should rest," you said softly, trying your best to convince him to close his eyes.
"I love you, Y/N," he blurted out. "You're the only one that gets me. You're the only one that matters. I don’t know what I’m doing without you..." He slurred, his voice breaking slightly.
Your heart skipped a beat. You could hear the raw emotion in his voice, his confession tumbling out like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. But you knew you couldn’t let yourself get swept up in it. His words were unreliable in his current state.
"Reid..." you whispered, your throat dry as you searched for words. You wanted to say something to make him feel better, but you couldn’t. "You're high, and you're not thinking clearly. We can talk about this when you're sober."
"I don't want to wait," his voice trembled now. "I need you to know how much you mean to me. I need you to know."
You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. You hated hearing him like this—vulnerable, confused, and lost in his addiction, while you couldn’t do anything to help him stop without risking his job.
"I know you care, Spencer. But you have to understand, when you're not in a clear state of mind, none of this is real. You need help," you said gently, masking the pain in your voice.
"I know, I know... I just... don’t know how to stop. I can’t make it go away." You could hear the frustration in his voice, and your heart continued to break. You knew how much he hated feeling weak, how hard it would be for him to ask for help, even when he needed it most.
"I'm here, okay? But you need to get help, and I’m not sure how long you're going to be able to keep hiding this from the team." There was a minute of silence on the other end, and you furrowed your eyebrows, confused. "Hello?" When there was still no response, you knew he’d fallen asleep.
You hung up the phone, sitting in the quiet of your room as the darkness consumed you. Even though you knew his words weren’t entirely true, they still stung.
You could only hope that, when he was sober, maybe he’d still feel the same way. But right now, your main priority was making sure he found his way back from the edge he was hanging off of. You just hoped that, someday, Spencer would realize the love he spoke of tonight could still be his, whenever he was ready to fight for it.
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hyewka · 5 months ago
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i need jealous possessive subby gyu😭😭 like omg need him so toxic, needy, and clingy🙂‍↕️
warnings: a bit toxic, clingy and needy sub but whats new :P
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irrationally jealous!beomgyu that cant even stand you going out with friends without blowing up your phone, trying to put a balm on his growing anxiety by asking whos there with you. then when you respond and he recognizes male names, he gets even more antsy. give it time before he texts you again, his fingers flying across the screen as he types out a message.
ohhh ok. are you having fun? :)
then again.
still really wish you were here with me insteadddd its so boring without you
he chews on his bottom lip, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. god, just respond, he thinks, fingers twitching as he waits. then he succumbs to sending another text.
come home soon okay? miss you :3
then another, and another…and another.
after sending a few more texts, minutes go by with no response, and so he flops down onto his bed, his thoughts spiraling as he stares at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that he’s just overreacting. but the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. why aren’t you replying?
beomgyu isn't possessive, he isn't, really...right? so why can't he seem to get rid of the reckless idea that just popped up in his head?
instead, like a magnet he reaches for his phone again, this time switching to the camera. when he sets it to video mode, all thats on his mind is getting your attention. thats it, nothing more. just your attention.
you're out with your friends at a bar, it was meant to be a girls night but you guys bumped into old college friends so it turned into something way bigger than intended. you've been trying to enjoy yourself, not seem too absorbed in your phone but when you can feel the vibrations of your phone buzzing every three minutes in your back pocket, its practically impossible to ignore. you know who it is.
any other person would've shut their phone down or at the least put it on dnd, but here you were, locking yourself in a bathroom stall after excusing yourself, pulling out your phone only to be met with the most obvious strings of messages from one singular contact name: beomgyu.
the first one after you passively replied was innocent enough, but then you see skim past the next ones:
how long are you gonna be out?
is it loud there? can you even see this? I miss you, baby
the last one really sticks out:
are you ignoring me?
you frown, but before you could finish typing out a text, a video pops up from him. you pause. you hesitate for just a second before tapping play, and instantly, you realize exactly why the thumbnail was so blurry.
the video’s a little shaky at first but eventually it steadies enough for you to realize hes on your shared bed—his hair's all messed up, sticking out in random directions, and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily. you can barely make out the details because of how grainy the video is, but you can still hear him. your brows furrow deeper…this can’t be…what you think it is, right?
and like hes heard your thoughts, he lets out this quiet moan, the camera dipping a bit, like he almost forgot he was holding it, revealing exactly what you conjured up in your head; a clear view of his hand buried under the waistband of his shorts, half-hard— leaving absolutely no room for imagination.
“i've been thinking about you all night, baby. couldn't help it... had to touch myself, thinking about you..." he trails off. you can see his fingers moving under the fabric, slow and lazy, dragging it out like he’s savoring every fucking second.
when his hand clearly starts to move a little faster, his eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in the feeling. "wish you were here, wish it was your hand instead. fuck, it's not enough..."
his lips part again, and you can hear the faintest whimper escape him, the sound making you bite the inside of your cheeks. and it’s so quiet, so breathy, that you bring the phone closer to your ear without thinking, embarrassingly desperate to hear more. it’s enough to make you press your thighs together, trying to ease the ache building there.
but you can't seem to tear your eyes away for long as he shifts slightly, his hips arching up a little more, his movements becoming more erratic. and when you hear him whisper your name—over and over, like he's pleading, like he's praying-your throat goes dry, and your hands start to tremble.
“look at me, baby, look how fucking hard you make me. this is all your fault,” you hear his panting get louder in the background, matching the pace hes palming at his cock.
then he lets out this cute, frustrated whine, almost a little whimper, when the camera slips again.
he messes with his phone a bit, like he's trying to figure out if you can see everything all while he keeps working himself, the slick sounds of him jerking off growing more erratic by the second.. then, you catch the way his shirt rides up and thats what does it for you.
if this is what he wanted to achieve then he did it because you really, really want to get home to him as fast as you can just to pull that shirt up the rest of the way and trace the lines of his stomach with your fingers, to feel that little pink gem that pierces his belly button against your palm.
you wet your lips nervously, shaking your leg, hunched over your phone— he was so effortlessly pretty. his muscles are just barely visible and the subtle lines of his abs tense then relaxing with each shaky breath he takes in.
"you just had to go out tonight, didn’t you?" his voice is suddenly low and husky, a sulky edge to it that makes you narrow your eyes. is that what this is about?
“left me here all alone, like i don’t even matter, like you don’t care how bad i need you.” he huffs, a frustrated little sound that’s almost drowned out by the rustling of the sheets as he squirms on the bed, trying—and failing—to keep the camera from shaking. “wish you were here, going fucking crazy without you—ngh-”
you hear a swallow, and its like hes trying to keep his moans in check—you chew harder on your bottom lip. a part of you is worried that he genuinely believes that he doesnt matter to you, but the other part of you, the hornier one, is completely consumed in the shitty, low quality video to even care.
“please, just come home to me, please… i need you so bad—m’yours, all y-yours..” you notice his words are starting to become slurred, and your thighs rub together almost unconsciously in realization, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up inside you. you know hes playing on you weakness, and hes got you where he wants you.
god, i’m so fucked, you think, but you can’t stop.
firstly, it wasn’t fair, what he was asking of you—you’ve been using up all your time with him and the second you do something for you, he acts up? and you’re also a little frustrated at the fact that hes not letting you see his pretty dick in full—hes very clearly pushing you to the edge, holding back, waiting for something—for you. you think as if hes imagining your voice telling him what to do, instructing him to keep it at hold.
because how else is he not cumming already?
you know you should stop, should put the phone down, but you just can’t. you’re too hooked, too caught up in how fucking pretty he looked, how desperately he was begging for you. he knew exactly how to get to you.
“please, baby, please,” he whined, his voice getting high-pitched, his hips thrusting up into his fist. “need to cum so bad… fuck, i-"
in a panic, you click your phone shut, the screen going dark in an instant when you recognize the sound of the bathroom door creak open.
“hey, you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, and relief washes over you when you realize it’s one of your friends. at least it’s not a stranger.
“yeah!” you blurt out, probably a little too loud. you cringe at the sound of your own voice, trying to sound more casual. “i’m fine! just… just need a minute!”
you try to keep your breathing steady, praying she doesn’t push any further.
“okay, just checking!” she finally responds. you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.
you listen carefully as her footsteps retreat, the door creaking open and closing behind her as she leaves. you quickly open your phone back up, your fingers still shaking as you pulled up your messages. you tell yourself you won’t watch the rest—you need to have some control, especially when your underwear is already embarrassingly wet.
what are you doing?
…is all you could muster up as a text.
you barely have to wait. the three little dots appear almost immediately.
miss you so much... just wanted your attention : (
before you can even think of a response, another message pops up— one that has your brain go blank again.
did it make you miss me?
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note: dont know if this was exactly what you were looking for but ive been meaning to write a scene like this for soo long and i feel like toxic needy gyu works just perfect for this haha anywayyy send some more sub txt stuff i live for it
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rosieswriting · 2 months ago
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Wrapped up in you
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Remus Lupin x reader
Summary: you look good and Remus is a love sick puppy
Note: pre established relationship. A bit of Jily English is not my first languaje!
Warnings: not +18 but suggestive content
Words: 1,9K
You looked good—really good. After what felt like ages of trying on clothes, nothing had felt quite right for the party at the Ravenclaw common room. But this… Merlin, you felt like the hottest person at Hogwarts
“Are you trying to kill poor Remus? Because with that outfit, you might actually do it” Lily teased, grinning as she looked you up and down. You rolled your eyes, though a satisfied smile played on your lips as you took one last look in the mirror.
Remus and you had started dating not so long ago, one month, two weeks and three days to be exactly. After years of crushing on your best friend, you had finally gotten together, thanks mostly to James and Lily who were desperate to have double dates with someone.
“You look good too, Lils” you replied smiling to the redhead “Pretty sure James is going to be drooling across the common room” you teased slightly.
She chuckled, giving you a playful nudge before opening the door. You followed her down the stairs to meet up with the Marauders in the common room, where the four of you had planned to head to the party together. As you descended, you could already hear their laughter echoing up the stairs. When you stepped into the common room, all four boys turned to look at you both.
“Lily Evans,” James announced, rising dramatically, “I vow to cherish you until the end of time because, somehow, you get even more beautiful every day.” He walked over to Lily, giving her a soft kiss.
Sirius came over with a teasing grin, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Didn’t know you could clean up this well.”
“Shut up,” you laughed, playfully nudging him off.
“I think you might’ve broken Moony” Peter said, smirking as he and Remus rose from the couch.
With a chuckle, you slipped out from Sirius’s arm and walked over to Remus, cheeks warming under his intense gaze. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, like he couldn’t quite form words. You walked over, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks as he took in every detail—the way your hair framed your face, your lips, the curve of your smile. When you stopped in front of him, he wrapped his hands around your hips, giving a gentle squeeze as he took you in one more time.
“You’re…” he trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally managed to get out, “Merlin, you’re beautiful.”
Your eyes locked, and a shiver ran down your spine. “Thank you,” you murmured, a soft smile on your lips. The world faded for a moment, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in quiet admiration.
But Sirius, ever the charmer, had other plans. “Alright, lovebirds, are we going to crash this party, or are we just standing here staring all night?” he called, leaning against Peter with a grin.
You and Remus exchanged a chuckle, glancing at Lily and James, who were equally lost in each other. Everyone nodded, and with a shared laugh, you all began making your way out of the Gryffindor common room and toward Ravenclaw’s.
Peter and Sirius led the way, joking about how much they’d drink, while Lily and James giggled beside them, whispering in each other’s ears. You and Remus lingered behind, his hand in yours, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles. Every so often, you’d catch him looking over at you, his gaze warm and gentle.
“You’re quiet,” you murmured, giving his hand a light squeeze.
A flurry of thoughts raced through your mind. He’d called you beautiful, but… was he just being polite? Had he changed his mind about your outfit? Or maybe he had now realized that you actually looked bad? Had you tried to much? Was the outfit to much? Did he think you were too much? Did he-
Just as your thoughts started spiraling, he stopped, giving you a look so tender it silenced every worry. “You left me speechless, love,” he said softly, smiling in that way that made your heart stutter. “I still can’t believe we’re actually together.”
Your heart soared, and a wide smile spread across your face. This was what made you fall for him—those words, so simple yet so grounding.
“Well, you’d better believe it,” you said, a playful warmth in your tone. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“As if I’d ever let you,” he teased, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. As you stepped into the Ravenclaw common room, you realized you hadn’t even noticed the journey there, entirely wrapped up in each other.
The Ravenclaw common room was packed, wall to wall with seventh-years letting loose. Tables had been pushed to the corners, each stacked with bottles of Firewhisky, Butterbeer, and a random assortment of Muggle liquors someone must have smuggled in. The music pounded through the room, drawing most people to the makeshift dance floor in the center, while the more daring couples could be spotted snogging in shadowed corners. A few others leaned by the large windows, passing around enchanted cigarettes, smoke curling lazily into the air.
Sirius caught your eye from across the room, his brows raised in that mischievous way of his, and you knew exactly what he was going to say—and that you were going to say yes.
“Ready for some shots, my dearest friend?” he asked, grin wide and challenging.
“As always.” You gave him a mock salute and turned to Remus, who was watching the exchange with a knowing smile.
You wrapped your arms around Remus’ shoulders, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. There was a hint of something electric beneath it, that small thrill you always felt whenever you kissed him, no matter how many times you had. But you didn’t let it go too deep, not wanting to get lost in him when Sirius was already waiting.
“Careful, alright?” Remus murmured as you pulled back, his hand resting gently on your waist, his gaze warm but cautious.
“Yes,” you whispered with a reassuring smile, planting one last kiss on his cheek before turning back to Sirius. Remus chuckled softly, watching you go with a fond look.
The two of you weaved through the crowd, pausing here and there to greet friends and familiar faces, laughter and chatter filling the room around you. Ever since the start of the year, you and Sirius had developed a little ritual of sharing shots at every party. It had somehow strengthened your friendship, a unique bonding ritual that always left you laughing by the end of the night.
As you reached the table, Sirius uncorked a bottle of tequila with a flourish. “No jokes aside, you really do look stunning tonight,” he said, pouring two shots and giving you a genuine smile beneath all his teasing.
“Thanks, Siri,” you said, smiling back. “And I hate to boost your ego, but you’re looking pretty good yourself.”
“Oh, I know,” he smirked, flipping his hair back in a mock display of vanity. He handed you a shot glass, clinking it against yours before you both downed it in one swift gulp.
The tequila burned going down, and you both winced, making exaggerated faces of disgust. “Still awful, every time,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“Awful but worth it,” he shot back, pouring another round without waiting for you to protest. “To making terrible decisions we’ll laugh about tomorrow!”
“Cheers to that,” you replied, grinning as you took the second shot with him, already feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Remus watching you with a soft smile, leaning casually against the wall with James and Lily. Every now and then, he’d shoot a glance your way, and you could feel the quiet affection in his gaze, even from across the room. Sirius followed your gaze and nudged your arm.
“You two are love-sick puppies” he teased, filling two cups with Butterbeer and passing one over to you with a smirk.
“We are not,” you said, shooting him a playful glare but gratefully accepting the drink. “We’re just… happy.”
Sirius chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Sure, happy. At least now the rest of us don’t have to suffer watching you two make eyes at each other from across the room, pretending it’s not obvious.”
You laughed, taking a sip. Sirius was right—after all the glances, lingering touches, and awkward silences, everyone else had caught on long before you had. You had probably been more transparent than you’d thought.
“Alright, alright, so maybe we were both a little clueless,” you admitted with a laugh. “But we’re here now, aren’t we?”
Sirius shrugged with a grin. “I suppose I’ll allow it. But really, you’ve got Remus so wrapped up, it’s a miracle he can think straight.”
You grinned and roll your eyes playfully. At some point both of you decided that one shot wasn’t enough. You left the cup on the table and start taking more shots.
 “Finally!” James called, reaching out to pull you both into the mix with the rest of the students. How many shots had you have? You were not sure, but the party was going great.
Sirius threw you a wink and headed to join Peter, who was challenging some Ravenclaws to a drinking game, while you spotted Remus near the edge of the dance floor, looking a little shy but grinning at you. You stepped up to him with a smile, holding out your hand.
“Care to dance?” you asked, warmth in your voice.
Remus took your hand, pulling you close as the music picked up, and you swayed together, everything around you blurring into background noise. With his arms wrapped around you, it felt like there was no one else there. He looked down, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his gaze soft.
“Stop looking at me like that” you slurred out, already drunk.
“I can´t when you look this hot, love” he muttered pulling you even closer to him and smirking. He had been smoking, you could smell the cigarettes when he talked.
You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, or the confidence that had settled in after a few shots. Or maybe, it was just the way Remus looked at you—like you were the only person in the room, and Merlin, he was the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen. Whatever it was, you closed the small gap between you, pulling him into a kiss. This time, neither of you held back.
His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging in like he was anchoring himself to you. You ran your hands through his hair, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened, turning messy and desperate.But you liked it. You liked him, you loved him.
After a breathless moment, you both pulled back, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. Remus looked down at you, his lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, a dazed grin spreading across his face.
“Your dorm or mine?” you asked, breathlessly, voice filled with barely-contained excitement. There was no way you were staying at this party now.
“Mine,” he said without hesitation, his voice thick with the same intensity, his hand already tugging you towards the door. Neither of you spared a glance at your friends, who were far too drunk to notice your swift exit..
Don’t get him wrong—Remus absolutely adored your outfit. But he’d adore it even more once it was on the floor of his dorm.
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nyxs2 · 1 month ago
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Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 2/?)
Do you know what the main problem with addiction is? It's that it always demands more. And unfortunately for you, Silco was an addicted man.
Silco x fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)
Word Count: 5,2K
Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, orgasm edging, overstimulation, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut), Silco being the little control freak that he is. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.
Part 1
Okay, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be so successful, so thank you to everyone who read it. Just a few warnings: Silco's actions can be quite controversial (you'll understand at the end), he's an antagonistic character and we have to recognize that he's not a saint. If you came here expecting something like "love at first sight", I'm sorry to tell you that there's going to be a long road to that. Remember, there's a fine line between love and obsession.
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The month had flown by too quickly, and you barely noticed Silco's absence from the brothel. Since that night, he seemed to have vanished, and the days resumed their usual rhythm. With the generous bonus he had left, you managed to cut back on your workload, bringing a sliver of relief to your otherwise exhausting routine. Today was one of those calmer days. Your last session hadn't been physical; your regular client, Kate, a young woman with stunning green eyes, just wanted to talk.
You spent the time discussing her recent achievements. She had been clean from shimmer for three months and, with visible excitement, shared her plans to become a designer. She had even landed an internship at a boutique in Piltover. Despite being a paying client, your relationship with her felt closer to a friendship. You genuinely cared about her progress and rooted for her, even though you knew the harsh world of Piltover could extinguish the dreams of Zaunites as easily as a gust of wind snuffing out a candle.
The brothel had this misunderstood duality. It wasn't just a place of pleasure and debauchery, as many thought, but also a refuge for the lonely, even if those moments were as rare as fresh air in Zaun.
After the session, you sat at the vanity in the dressing room, touching up your makeup. It was a moment of pause, preparing to finally leave for the night. That's when hurried, hesitant footsteps reached your ears. Through the mirror, you saw Babette enter, her yordle face pale as if she'd seen a ghost.
"What's wrong, Babette?" you asked, frowning.
"He's back," she said in a hurried whisper, and you froze. There was no need to specify who. His name hung like a curse that no one dared to utter. "And he asked for you... in the same room."
A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded, trying to mask the storm brewing inside you. Your body moved automatically, brushing past a Babette who looked almost regretful on your behalf.
The conflicting sensations within you were hard to define—a mix of nerves and something akin to excitement. Part of you was eager to see him again, while another feared what this meeting might bring. It was a wave that swung between the warmth of reunion and the chill of apprehension. It was impossible to predict Silco's intentions with you.
Yet, despite the uncertainty, a part of you relished the idea of facing him again.
The curtains parted just as they had during your first meeting, and you stepped into the room with hesitant steps—but firm enough to mask the storm raging within you. There he was, Silco, seated on the sofa like he owned the world—or at least your little corner of chaos. This time, a cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. A bottle of amber liquor and two glasses were set before him on the table.
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him, trying to keep your expression impassive. "Miss me?" The provocation slipped out in an almost sweet tone, but the mockery woven into the edges of your words was there for anyone sharp enough to catch. And, of course, he did.
His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was... unsettling. A slow, predatory smile that made your entire body tense, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or flight. But running from Silco was never really an option, was it?
"Miss you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost a dangerous purr, as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a deliberate exhale as he leaned back even further into the sofa. "I've been rather busy, dove. Running a city isn't exactly a part-time job."
His voice carried an intensity that seemed to cut through your skin and lodge itself directly in your nerves. His eyes were a weapon all their own, assessing you with clinical precision as though he could decode every emotion you tried to hide. Frustration? Undoubtedly. Curiosity? Perhaps. And something else... something you refused to name but which made your stomach churn and your breath quicken.
"Ah, of course... I forgot you rule Zaun. I thought it was just a hobby of yours." The words left your mouth dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at your lips. You knew exactly how to provoke him, even if it meant walking a tightrope with Silco.
But he laughed. Not a short or biting laugh, but a rich, full chuckle that echoed through the cramped walls of the room. His reaction was almost disconcerting, as if he were genuinely amused by your defiance.
"I prefer to think of it as a calling. Someone has to keep these streets in line, after all," Silco retorted, bringing the cigar back to his lips and taking a deep drag. "Drink with me." He gestured casually toward the empty glass beside his with a flick of his hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world—as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire month and was now acting as though nothing had happened.
You blinked once, twice, frowning at his offer. Surprised was an understatement. Even so, your feet carried you to the sofa, where you sat down beside Silco. Your gaze drifted to the glass placed in front of you, but you made no move to pick it up.
"Drink something from you? I thought I'd made it clear I'm not naive." Your voice was sharp, cutting, and you made no effort to hide what you thought. The accusation lingered in the air, but Silco seemed unfazed. On the contrary, the smile on his lips deepened, as though your suspicion was yet another point in his favor.
"Relax, dove." He set the cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I may be many things, but I'm not the type to drug my... companions. I prefer them fully aware of what's happening."
Before you could respond, you felt his hand rest on your thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The touch was too light to be casual but confident enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Besides," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "I don't need tricks. You came to me willingly last time, remember? And I'm certain you'll do the same again."
You held your breath for a moment—not out of fear but from the tension building in the air. It had been mere minutes, and already you were spiraling into this dangerous, sexual dance. When he reached for the bottle and poured two glasses, the sound of the amber liquid filling the glass seemed to fill the charged space between you. He slid one of the glasses in your direction, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and that fleeting touch was like a surge of heat, reigniting memories you'd rather not dwell on now.
The cold glass against your fingers was solid, tangible, but the same couldn't be said for Silco's intentions. Swirling the liquid in the glass, you watched its viscosity under the light, searching for any sign of hidden betrayal. You brought the glass to your nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing unusual. No suspicious scent. Just the strong, familiar aroma of an expensive drink.
"Now, don't be rude. It's a rare vintage, and I insist," he said, his voice dropping a few tones, more of a command than an invitation. "Or are you afraid you can't handle me after a drink?"
He raised his own glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, taking a long sip and savoring the warmth the liquor seemed to bring. He was testing you, and you knew it.
"Oh... I can handle more than you think." You let the double meaning linger in the air, noting how quickly Silco caught on from the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Then, your gaze shifted back to the drink in your hands.
A sigh escaped internally. Damn it. Against all your instincts, you decided to trust him—at least this once. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a small sip.
The flavor was unexpected, complex. First, a gentle warmth spread across your tongue and slid down your throat, followed by a hint of sweetness that balanced the burn. You licked your lips, savoring the woody notes mingling with a subtle touch of caramel. It was... different. Something you'd never tasted before.
You almost let out a surprised sigh but managed to hold it back. However, you knew your expression had betrayed you. Worse still, you were certain Silco had noticed. His sharp gaze seemed to miss nothing, and he'd been watching you the entire time. Quickly recovering, you masked your face with indifference, though the effort felt pointless. Pretending nothing affected you had always been one of your sharpest weapons for surviving life in Zaun, but it seemed to fail irritatingly often when it came to him.
"So, tell me..." Silco resumed the conversation, his tone adopting a casual air, as if you were merely chatting. "What have you been up to while I've been away? I hope you haven't been entertaining any other clients in my absence."
"Well," you began, leaning back on the sofa, mimicking his casual tone while swirling the glass in your fingers, watching the liquid sway with the motion. "As far as I know, we're not exclusive."
You let your words hang in the air for a moment before taking another sip of your drink. This time, you kept your eyes fixed on the glass, pretending Silco's presence was just a shadow at the edge of your awareness. "So yes, I've been with other clients."
When you finally lifted your gaze, you met his eyes. They glimmered with something between amusement and danger, and the smile you offered Silco was anything but innocent. You knew you were playing with fire by provoking him so openly without any idea how he might react, but as the damned gambler you were, you could never resist a risky game—even if it meant losing your winning hand.
"Why?" you asked, your voice dripping with audacity as you calmly placed your now-empty glass on the table. "Are you jealous?"
"Jealous? No, I wouldn't say that." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "More like... protective. You see, dove, once I set my sights on something, I have a hard time sharing."
He set his glass down on the table with a faint but deliberate thud of glass against wood. You had pressed his buttons, that much was clear, but he didn't seem annoyed by your bratty attitude.
Silco settled back into the sofa, mirroring your posture, but with an air of authority that seemed to dominate the room. He leaned back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make a point, the motion causing his coat to fall open. The glimpse of what looked like a holster at his hip seemed accidental—perhaps he didn't even remember carrying it. It was as natural to him as breathing.
He turned to you, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes would meet his. "But I'm a reasonable man," he continued, his tone soft, almost comforting, yet carrying an intensity that made your skin prickle. "I understand the nature of our... arrangement. You're a courtesan, and I'm merely a client. Nothing more, nothing less."
His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the touch as light as a feather, teasing. "Which is why I think it's time we renegotiate the terms, don't you?" His voice dropped a few tones lower. "I'm willing to pay for your exclusive services."
You couldn't deny the tension rippling through your body as Silco leaned in further, narrowing the space between you until his presence felt like the only thing that existed in your world. His touch on your chin was firm but not rough, a silent reminder of the absolute control he maintained over himself—and, in some ways, over you.
You allowed him to guide your face upward, a silent concession that you were willing to play along—at least within the rules that suited you.
His eyes were both an invitation and a threat, a contrast that should have been intimidating. But, to your surprise, you felt something else entirely.
It wasn't fear.
It was pride.
There was an unexpected, almost visceral pride within you, knowing that he wanted you—and made no effort to hide it. It was both unsettling and... perversely satisfying.
When Silco moved again toward you, the motion caused his coat to fall open further, fully revealing the holster strapped to his hip. The metallic gleam of the pistol's barrel caught the dim light, and your eyes lingered on it for a moment. The sight evoked a disconcerting mix of emotions: fear and excitement, battling for dominance within you.
You knew the gun wasn't there merely for protection. It was a silent statement, a symbol of power—and also of control. Silco didn't make empty threats, and the presence of that weapon made it abundantly clear. So classic, so predictable, you thought, though you couldn't deny there was something undeniably alluring about the image: danger so blatant yet so meticulously restrained.
That contrast was almost suffocating. The implicit threat of the weapon combined with the soft, almost intimate tone of his voice stirred something deep within you. It was a brutal reminder of the risks of being this close to him, but also irrefutable proof of the kind of power he wielded—not just physical but psychological.
This is not good, you told yourself, suppressing a shiver that could have been apprehension—or excitement. You knew how dangerous it would be to let Silco see you as his. The words you had spoken the last time you met applied to him perfectly, and to your misfortune, Silco was possessive by nature, his ambition only amplifying that trait.
But it was too late to turn back. You had already captured his attention once, and here he was again, returning to your arms like an addict seeking his next fix. And it was clear he wouldn't stop until he had you entirely.
"This negotiation..." you began, your voice lower, tinged with something that could have been scorn or desire, even you couldn't tell. "Isn't open."
The silence that followed was heavy, every word hanging in the air like a scale about to tip. There was refusal in your voice, but despite your efforts, there was also a trace of something else... something that could easily be mistaken for lust. And his gaze caught every nuance of it.
Slowly, your eyes drifted from his to his lips, but not before letting him see the small detour they took back to the pistol. As though you were weighing your options, calculating the risks, even though you knew all of them ended with him.
It was like walking a tightrope over an abyss, and both ends led directly to Silco. Two different fates, equally perilous.
"But," you continued, and your voice was almost a whisper now, deliberately laden with heat. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but the words had already taken shape. "You can try to convince me." It was a dangerous strategy, and Silco was toxic in every sense. But just like an addict depended on their drug, perhaps you could turn that dependence into an advantage for yourself.
Silco's eyes darkened, a fierce hunger burning within them as your defiant words left your lips. A low growl reverberated in his chest, heavy with intensity. He noticed the way your gaze roamed over him, like a flame consuming everything in its path. He also noticed—with dangerous satisfaction—the subtle quickening of your pulse, visible in the delicate line of your neck.
You were playing with fire, and Silco was more than willing to let you burn.
Before you could react, he moved with the swiftness of a serpent, pinning you against the couch. In one fluid motion, he seized control, trapping you beneath the weight of his body. His hands captured your wrists with firm precision, raising them above your head as he positioned himself between your thighs.
His hips pressed against yours, a slow and deliberate motion laden with intent. Your body acted before your mind could comprehend, arching to meet the contact.
"Oh, dove..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word caressing your skin like silk. His lips hovered near your throat, and you felt the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin. "I intend to convince you, and I think you'll find I'm quite... persuasive."
His lips found the curve of your neck, skimming over your skin with a dangerous blend of gentleness and possessiveness. When his teeth grazed your flesh, they didn't break the surface, but the implicit promise in every touch made your heart race. You knew he could, and you also knew you wouldn't fight him.
The control he exerted over you was intoxicating, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about the way he read you, how every sigh, every tremor of your body seemed to fuel him.
When his fingers released your wrists, you didn't move your hands from where he had placed them, as if the freedom he had given you was an illusion. Instead, you closed your eyes, feeling his hands glide down your body, his fingers tracing an almost lazy path that ignited every nerve in your skin.
His fingers reached the curve of your waist, pausing just long enough to apply a slight squeeze—a possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He followed the contour of your hips, his movements as subtle as they were provocative. Then, with a deliberate motion, he tugged the hem of your skirt upward, revealing your skin inch by inch, as if each bit was a gift to be uncovered. The air grew heavier, each second stretching into eternity.
"You have no idea what you make me feel," he murmured, his voice a mix of confession and temptation, perhaps more to himself than to you. "The things I want to do to you..."
His breathing grew uneven, heavier, and before you realized it, your thighs tightened around his hips, as if to hold him there, in that exact place where the world seemed to have stopped.
"Then do them," you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. This moment was his. And somehow, it didn't feel wrong, even though part of you knew you might regret it later.
But right now, in this instant, regret was the furthest thing from your mind.
Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━
"Careful what you wish for, dove..."
Silco's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her writhe beneath him, her body arching into his touch as if she were starving for it. He could feel the heat of her core pressing against his cock, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there. To feel that warm feeling that had been trapped in his mind for that damn month of being away from her. But he held himself back, it wasn't about him this time, as he would have other opportunities. He wanted to savor every moment of her surrender, to engrave the memory of it in his mind for years to come.
Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin before sucking on her pulse point, leaving a mark. Relishing the way she gasped and writhed beneath him, her hands finally moved to tangle in his hair.
He leaned back, standing erect with his gaze fixed on that which he now coveted. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. This was something he had wanted to do since their first meeting.
Silco settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her slick folds. He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "Look at you, dove. So wet for me already... Such a needy little thing." he murmured before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her clit.
He started slowly, his tongue lapping at her slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. He traced the seam of her lips, teasing her entrance before flicking his tongue over her clit, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair.
He slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in and out of her tight heat, at first slowly. He curled them just so, searching for that special spot that would make her see stars. Silco felt her inner walls contract and vibrate around his fingers. He could tell she was getting close to her peak. Leaning down, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub quickly with the tip of his tongue.
At the same time, he pumped his fingers faster, rubbing mercilessly against that specific spot. Her thighs trembled and tensed on either side of his head as he took her right to the edge... then pulled back a little, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer before finally pushing her over the edge of blissful oblivion. He heard her whimper his name, her voice sounding tearful and frustrated. Then her little fingers tried to pull his face back into place between her thighs: "Easy, dove." He let his fingertip slide over her clit, circular motions that drove her to the edge, but weren't enough to give her what she wanted. "Silco..." her voice escaped in a hoarse moan, filled with a mixture of need and desperation. Sounding like a melody for Silco. "Say 'please' and I might let you cum." Silco's voice left no room for reply and this only made her even more frustrated. Her back arched and she tried again to pull Silco towards her. Her attempts failed. Silco then sped up the movement of her finger, noticing how easy it was to bring her to the edge again... and just as easy to slow down.
The second denied orgasm drew a reaction from her. "Please! Fuck.. I beg you... please!
He smirked as she begged so sweetly, the word "please" falling from her lips like a prayer. Oh, how he adored when she got like this - pride and poise cast aside in favor of raw, aching need. Silco was more than happy to oblige her, diving back in with renewed fervor. He savored the taste, groaning low in his throat as he feasted on her like a starving man, his fingers pumped steadily, curling just to brush that spot inside her. He felt her thighs clamp down around his head, heard her screaming his name as she came undone, her release flooding his mouth.
But Silco didn't stop. He kept going, riding her through her orgasm and straight into another, his tongue lashing at her sensitive flesh, his fingers pumping in and out of her clenching heat. He could feel her fighting it, her body tensing, trying to pull away from the too-much sensation, but he held her in place, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.
He felt her come again, harder this time, her body convulsing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. He swallowed every drop of her release, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her coming apart for him.
Only when she went limp beneath him, her body spent and trembling, did Silco finally relent. He pulled back, licking his lips as he admired his handiwork - His sweet dove sprawled on the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She looked utterly debauched, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. A sight that had to be for his eyes only.
"Perfect." He whispered to the void as you seemed to be passed out. Nothing could take away his sense of pride in having reduced you to a limp body lying on the couch, although a part—the one deep inside him—was irritated by the mere idea that someone else could do the same to you. "We can't let that happen, don't you think?"
A rhetorical question to which he already had an answer.
━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━ 
You blacked out for a second. You'd like to say you lasted longer after the first, but that would be a blatant lie. With Silco consuming you completely—in presence, touch, scent, and the rough sound of his voice—it was impossible to resist. He pushed you to the edge once more, and when you finally fell, the orgasm that crashed over you was even more devastating than the first.
You collapsed onto your side, utterly boneless, as though every bone in your body had dissolved. The exhaustion was so overwhelming that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurred with each passing moment. Every muscle in your body screamed in surrender, yet you still found enough energy to let out a soft whimper as you adjusted your legs, trying to ease the discomfort.
Your body was in a state of hyperawareness. You could feel every little detail: the slow but persistent throbbing between your legs, the sensitive, swollen ache of your clit, both painful and pleasurable as the pressure of your thighs shifted.
The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your ragged, uneven breathing. Each breath felt like an effort, but you began to relax, letting your muscles go slack against the couch. And then you felt it.
His gaze.
Even with your eyes closed, you knew Silco was watching. It was impossible to ignore. Those eyes had the power to strip you bare, as though he could see beyond flesh, directly into what you tried to hide—vulnerability, desire, surrender.
Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked a few times, dislodging the tears that clung stubbornly to your lashes. Your lips curled into a trembling, tired but genuine smile as your gaze found his face. Silco didn't look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—dangerous and tender all at once—that made you shift uncomfortably, even in your exhaustion.
"That was the first time..." you began, your voice breathless, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. "By Janna... twice in a row... How is that even possible?"
The words came out in an almost incredulous tone, with a hint of exhausted laughter. You didn't know how he did it, but it seemed Silco knew exactly what to do with your body. Where to touch, what to say, which buttons to press... absolutely everything.
"Give me a minute," you continued, your voice strained with fatigue. "I don't think I can do anything else right now. My body has officially shut down, and it's your fault."
Despite the exhaustion, there was a note of humor in your voice, something you knew he'd pick up on. But it was the truth. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been pushed to its limit, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had no urge to fight it.
Silco leaned over you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle, almost reverent gesture. The touch was a stark contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers. "Don't worry about me, dove," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a whispered melody in the darkness. "I'm more than satisfied with how the night turned out."
He then pressed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The fleeting touch was almost contradictory, an unspoken promise hidden behind the faint, teasing smile that played on his lips. "Now, catch your breath. Compose yourself."
He moved away with his usual natural elegance. As he adjusted his clothes, straightening his suit with meticulous care, smoothing out his trousers; taking more careful care of this part for obvious reasons, and running his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, you watched him silently. He seemed lost in his own world as he tidied himself.
Silco then turned his attention back to you, extending a steady hand to help you sit properly on the couch. With surprising care, he adjusted your skirt, a gesture that felt almost chivalrous coming from the same man who had undone it in the first place. But what truly caught your attention was the way he picked up the garment he had removed from you earlier—your underwear—and slipped it into his trouser pocket without even attempting to hide the act.
You opened your mouth, perhaps to protest, but before you could utter a word, he had already shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the expensive fabric pressed against your skin, warm from his body heat, carrying his unmistakable scent: lingering tobacco, worn leather, and a metallic note that reminded you of burnt gunpowder or rust. It wasn't necessary—you knew that—but he seemed to relish the idea of covering you, marking the moment with a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective.
"In any case," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his hand rested firmly on your shoulder, the touch deliberate, "You can return the favor next time."
"So that's your excuse to come back to this brothel?" you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm as one eyebrow arched slightly. A sly smile curved your lips as you looked at him. "How predictable, Silco..."
"Oh, I assure you, dove," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous softness that made every word sound like a promise. "It's not the only reason I'll return. But, I must admit... it's a rather tempting incentive."
Yet, as he spoke those words, something shifted inside him. A dark and familiar shadow rose, staking its claim on his mind. Suddenly, Silco pulled back. His face, previously brimming with desire and mischief, turned into a mask of indifference.
"I need to go," he said abruptly, the tone of someone ending a conversation with no room for argument. "There's something I need to take care of."
And with that, without another word, he was gone.
Leaving you behind, confused, and his jacket.
[...]
The days following Silco's visit were a series of unsettling events. The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but you had a knack for picking up on nuances. You were a survivor, and survival meant knowing when something was wrong before it became a bigger problem.
First, there were the furtive glances. Your colleagues at the brothel seemed to watch you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. There were hushed whispers and abruptly interrupted conversations whenever you walked by. That wasn't new—gossip was as common as the smell of cheap perfume in that place. But this felt different now. Heavier. As if they knew something you didn't.
Then came the anonymous donation. A substantial amount of money, accompanied by a short and direct note, unsigned. Just three words: "For your comfort."
You found yourself staring at the note longer than you should have, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. The tone of the words seemed polite, even kind, but in context... there was no comfort in them. Only confirmation that someone was meddling in your life.
Finally—and perhaps most disturbingly—was the sudden drop in the number of clients. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, something seasonal. The brothel's clientele had its ups and downs, after all. But as the days went by, the reality became unmistakably clear.
The few men who still requested your company exhibited strange behaviors. Gone were the hungry gazes, the invasive touches. They were stiff, as if walking on eggshells, and most seemed incapable of relaxing in your presence. They didn't want closeness, avoided more intimate advances. Instead, they merely asked for your company, remained in an awkward silence while sitting far from you, and left far more money than necessary.
It was disconcerting. The break from routine, the absence of the predictable... it was almost worse than dealing with the unwanted touches you'd learned to ignore.
And then came the confirmation you didn't want. It arrived through a conversation you weren't invited to but overheard from the other side of a door: the men who had been appearing and specifically requesting you, were none other than subordinates of a certain chemical baron.
Silco. Part 3
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xxgoldie · 1 month ago
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ns/fw ramblings - minors dni
ik we all like to imagine lighter as some sort of sex god - it comes with the territory of a confident n hot male character. but the more I think abt how much of a down-bad dork he is, the more the idea of him being a virgin, or at least having very little experience, is so so delicious to me. like, he could absolutely fuck if he wanted to, he canonically has fangirls, but he's a sap and he wants to wait for the right person. not to say he isn't horny - he fs watches porn and his head is full of fantasies.
imagine your relationship reaching that point, messily making out while you grind on his lap, both of you in nothing but your underwear. being able to touch all of you like this, the feeling of your clothed crotch rubbing against his, the soft little noises you made when your clit pressed against him - all infinitely better than his wildest fantasies, and he doesn't think to stop you until its already too late and he's cumming in his boxers with a stuttered groan.
he hadn't told you it was his first time. he had meant to, but things got hot and heavy before he got the chance, and he didn't exactly know how to slip it into conversation when you were taking your shirt off. it certainly looked like you were putting the pieces together now, a brief silence falling over you as you realised what had happened.
"lighter, did you just-" "i. i am so sorry-" "hey, don't apologise. are you okay?"
you aren't mad, visibly more surprised than disappointed, but even as you reassure him, his thoughts spiral. he finally found his person, finally felt ready to do this, and he'd gone and fucked it up. your sweet words fly in one ear and out the other, only making him feel more guilty that you were being so nice about it. he wanted to make you feel good, recreate all his late-night fantasies where fucked you until you couldn't think about anything but the feel of him, catering to your pleasure over and over again - you deserved that. yet here he was, falling apart at your slightest touch.
he only really snaps out of it when you kiss him, feather-light against his lips. your finger is tracing soft patterns against his bare chest, the feeling grounding him.
"trust me, love, its okay. i'll take it as a compliment."
there's a slight teasing glint in your eye - not making fun of him, but showing him this wasn't a big deal. when you kiss him again, he deepens it, as if he's trying to push all his scrambled thoughts of love and devotion from his mind to yours. your hips had been hovering over his, but you lowered yourself back into his lap as the rhythm of your tongues intensified. he almost felt relieved when he felt his dick twitch back to life.
"i really am sorry, baby." "i told you, you have nothing to apologise for. besides-" you wiggled your hips a little, drawing a sensitive hiss from his lips "-it feels like you're getting ready to make it up to me."
it may be an awkward start to his first time, but when he finally feels you sink down onto him, lighter feels like he's just found a heaven he's been waiting his whole life for. you feel impossibly good around him, but he thinks that even if his dick was numb, he could cum just from watching you - your low whine as he fills you up, the way your whole body tenses at the stretch then relaxes into pleasure, how you have to brace against his chest when he starts to thrust up into you.
he doesn't last long this time, either - any stamina he had built up by jacking off was for naught when you felt so much better than his hand. but he's so eager to please, a newfound addiction to the way your hips buck and eyes roll back. he makes you cum with his fingers, experimenting to see what makes you tick, eyes roaming your body and logging every little twitch and keen, confidence skyrocketing every time you praise him or beg for more. he's a fast learner - he has to be, he wants to see you fall apart like that over and over and over again.
(okay this turned out WAY longer than I intended it to be but I'm brainrotting so hard abt him, like can you blame me. also this is completely unedited and i wrote it one go lmao)
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wttcsms · 1 year ago
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i wanna brag about it (i wanna tie the knot) ; choso.
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pairing choso x f!reader word count 2.6k synopsis overworked, stressed, and in need of relief, choso comes home to the sight of you looking all pretty and sweet. it's been a long time coming, and tonight is the night where choso finally gives in to his deepest desire: fucking a baby into you. content contains babysitter!au (babysitter!reader), ceo!choso, half-brothers!choso & yuuji, toddler!yuuji, implied age gap, breeding kink, obsessive + possessive!choso, housewife kink, misogynistic ideals, wet n messy, size kink, belly bulge, bro is literally so in love with you and dreams abt starting a family with you
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Choso could use a drink right about now.
He’s rummaging through his fridge, more than happy to grab one of the many bottles in the back (he doesn’t want Yuuji accidentally grabbing one by accident — not that it would happen, thanks to your supervision), but he startles away from the fridge when a voice fills the silence of the kitchen.
“Late night?” You tease, giving him that sweet smile of yours that has the stresses from today lifting from his body, easing the weight on his otherwise tense shoulders. 
Fuck. 
Proof that today was a major shitshow is evident in the fact that Choso has forgotten all about you. Staring at your body clad in nothing more than one of those skimpy cropped-cami-and-boyshorts matching sets you always favor, he finds it hard to believe that he could ever forget about you. The refrigerator light bathes you, envelopes you, casts a warm glow on your soft skin and makes it look like you’re an angel radiating some bright aura. A subtle glance at your entire body allows him a glimpse of two, tiny peaks poking through the thin material of your top. You like keeping the house cold. He swallows hard, finding the willpower to focus on your face.
Not like staring at your face is enough to stop his cock from twitching in his work trousers. In fact, he probably gets even harder looking at you, especially when he can tell you’ve probably just finished your very sacred and meticulous nighttime skincare routine, your face glowing. Seeing you all clean and fresh, savoring the domesticity of you washing your face in the same bathroom he brushes his teeth in, salivating over the way you look standing in his kitchen (it could be yours, too, if you would let him give you everything he wants to) wearing nothing but your pajamas — it all makes his hindbrain want to take over. He’s spent the last fourteen hours stuffed in a boardroom or his office, and your simple existence is enough to soothe his soul and send him spiraling, all at the same time.
Choso could really, really use a drink right about now.
“Sorry, I meant to call to tell you—”
“Don’t worry about it.” You smile at him goodnaturedly, like you’re not still in college with much better things to do on a Friday night than wait for him to come home. 
He should be thankful that you’re so sweet to him, but just the idea that you did have plans tonight makes a hot coil of jealousy tighten in his stomach. 
Choso knows that he shouldn’t be feeling this way; he shouldn’t even notice you as much as he does. It starts out with the little things, first, like making sure his assistant gets your favorite snacks restocked during his usual weekly grocery delivery. He asks you about your schoolwork, and then finds himself filing away people he knows in your major’s industry. It’s good to have connections, he tells you, giving you the number to a good business acquaintance of his who’s looking for an intern in the near future. And of course, he’s hyper aware of the fact that you are a very beautiful girl. Unfairly so, with the curve of your lips and the slope of your nose; every time he sees you, he plays a game with himself. Tries to notice something new about you, a beauty mark, a new haircut. If he had the time, he’d probably try to get an exact count of your eyelashes. 
And now, he’s noticing too much of you. The way the fabric of your tiny matching set seems to accentuate every aspect of your body. How he can smell the sweet scent of your body wash and lotion. The way you’re staring at him, so innocently, completely unaware of the lewd thoughts that run rampant in his mind every time you have him cornered like this. 
Some nights, it’s almost too much to bear. 
It’s been a tough day, though. Week. Month. Endless meetings, negotiations that never result in any firm solutions, just more addendums to contracts. He hasn’t seen much of anything besides his office and the boardroom; what’s the point of having an office with a skyline view if he’s too busy staring at spreadsheets and emails to even enjoy it? 
Tonight, Choso realizes, is the night where he snaps. 
He says your name in such a low register, you almost don’t pick up on it. You’re in the middle of telling him a cute story about what Yuuji did during recess with his pre-k class, but you pause.
Maybe it’s all in your head, but it feels like something in the air has shifted. The way your tummy’s butterflies seem to be in overdrive is only proof of this. 
You’re used to the perpetual tension between you and Choso. Filthy rich, successful, always in a nice, tailored suit — looking purely on the outside, who wouldn’t want to get fucked by him? The more time you spend with him, the more time you fill the role of mother over just babysitter for little Yuuji, which gives way to deeper observation of Choso. He works incredibly long hours, but still has time to stay updated on all of Yuuji’s comings and goings, accomplishments and awards. He doesn’t have to; it’s not like he’s obligated. After all, Yuuji is his half-brother, a byproduct of his father’s mistress. He didn’t have to take him in, love him with his entire being, but he does, and this makes you fall for him only more. 
Then, there’s the fact of how he makes you feel. Every time his hands will brush gently against yours, innocently and so quickly, you swear you’re being electrified. The way he says your name, the way he tells you anything, in that low voice of his is enough to get you squeezing your thighs together. But most of all, it’s the way he looks at you. At first, you thought it was because of your crush, but the longer you work for him, the more you realize that Choso will occasionally stare at you when he thinks you won’t notice. 
But how could you not? How could you not detect the feel of his dark eyes scanning your figure, taking in your features? How could you not detect the way his eyes will darken over in lust when he watches you lick sweet cream off your fingers from an explosive can of whipped cream? How could you not catch the barest trace of a smile as he watches you interact with Yuuji at a park, willing to get your hands dirty to appease the toddler while Choso watches over the two of you from his seat on the bench? 
How could you not fall deeper and deeper into his spell when the threads of lust continue to spool, tightening over your body, practically choking you with desire. 
You don’t even realize how big Choso is until he’s standing so close to you, towering over you. So much bigger than you to the point where if you look straight ahead, all you can see is the rise and fall of his chest through his white button down (the one you ironed for him this morning). 
His hands curl into fists, like he’s restraining himself. “Tell me now,” he breathes out, words coming out tight, like speaking to you civilly is proving to be a strenuous task for him. “Tell me that I shouldn’t fuck you tonight. That I can’t.”
Is he joking, or are you dreaming? You’re hyper aware of your breathing now, of the way you reflexively lick your lips, of the way your nipples are pressed taut against the thin, cotton fabric of your cami. You’re also way too aware of him, with the lustful expression in his eyes that give way to something more, as if this request of his means something more. Most men his age and in his powerful position have a wife or a girlfriend by now. As long as you’ve known him, Choso hasn’t been with anybody. 
The stress, the agitation, that annoying, persistent feeling of constantly being pent up — all of it has been building up inside of him. Whoever is going to be on the receiving end of it will be lucky if they’re able to walk the morning after.
“But you can.” You say softly, almost scared that this is some elaborate trick, a means to see if his brother’s babysitter is to be trusted. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
There’s something animalistic in the way he takes you. When he kisses you, it’s hungry. Open-mouthed. Sloppy. It would be invasive if you weren’t so eager to let him, to allow his tongue to hit the roof of your mouth, to swap saliva in the messiest manner possible.
But there’s something gentle there, too. The way his hands cup your face, or travel to rest on your waist. He’s sweet, taking his time to help you slip out of your pajamas, and sweeter still — he lets out an appreciative hum as he takes in the sight of you bare, naked in the kitchen. Fuck a drink, Choso thinks as he takes in your nude body. You’re the only stress relief he needs. 
He whispers the nastiest things to you as he gets you to sit on the kitchen island. He asks you to please spread your legs so he can see that pretty pussy of yours, and when you comply, he takes in a sharp breath before running a single, cold finger against your wet folds. He makes a crude, appreciative comment, asking you are you really this wet, baby? All of this because of me? For me? 
You can’t answer him, of course. Talking is hard when he’s using two fingers to fuck you open, get you ready to take his cock. He’s knuckles deep, and when he curls his fingers right there, the only thing you’re capable of saying is a squeal of his name. Your juices are pooling into a puddle on the counter, the same counter where you served him breakfast so many hours ago. 
He loves watching you. Choso could watch you every second for the rest of his life and still never get his fill of you. He only catches you during particularly chaste moments, moments where you’re humming in the kitchen or playing with Yuuji. He loves those scenes; it feeds the archaic, masculine ego inside of him that tells him he needs to make life easier for you. That you shouldn’t have to worry about school or work, about money or other frivolous things he has an abundance of. He wants to take care of you. 
Seeing the way you lose control of yourself from the work of his own hand has him getting unbearably hard in his work slacks. He loves watching you, and he knows he’s going to love watching you get all depraved and drunk on his cock. 
When Choso first tries to ease just the tip in, you have to curl your fingers over the edge of the counter, trying to steel yourself. With how wet and willing you are, it should be an easy enough task, but it’s made difficult by the fact that he’s just too thick. 
Tip red and angry, leaking with pre, wide — just the sight of Choso’s cock is enough to get you even wetter, more pliant for him, but even the first stretch still has you hissing. 
“S’okay, baby.” He groans, one hand on your waist, trying to steady you, keep you still so he can keep on pushing himself deeper. “You’re doing so good for me.” 
You certainly don’t feel like you’re doing much of anything. It’s hard, when you can’t stop your walls from clamping down on his cock, making it harder for him to move or even think. When he fully enters you, your mind is already too dizzy with pleasure to think straight. You think he says something, but you’re not sure what, and you try to focus on his words, you really do, but then he starts thrusting, and you think it’s powerful enough to tilt the axis of the earth. 
Oh, so this is what sex is supposed to feel like. He redefines everything you thought you knew about it. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, the way the slickness and heat of your pussy seems to keep motivating him to go harder, the way if you look down, you can spot a tiny bulge every time he hits as deep as he can go — all of this combined marks the height of pleasure for you.
“You’re so perfect.” He grunts out, relishing in the way you tighten up at his words. Your eyes are a bit glazed, almost like you’re struggling to focus on what’s in front of you. He doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, there’s pride settling inside his gut as he realizes that he’s the one fucking all the sense out of you. “Let’s do this every night, baby. Do you like the sound of that? Of being my stress relief?” 
He knows that you’re too far gone, too deep in the haze of pleasure, to process his words, to answer him. 
“I wanna fuck you forever, baby. Make you my pretty, little wife and have you waitin’ at home for me. How does that sound?”
He assumes when your pussy tightens up that that’s a yes. 
His hand finds your own, and he interlinks your fingers together. He might be fucking you all messy on the kitchen counter, but he still holds an overwhelming amount of affection for you. Of course he would want to hold your hand. 
He traces your ring finger, feels the familiar sensation of his release building up. So close, he thinks to himself. He’s so close to getting everything he wants.
“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum right. In. Your. Fucking. Pussy.” Each word is emphasized with a particularly hard thrust, and this — him saying that — is what your sex-addled mind registers. You’re vaguely aware that this could be a bad idea, but you’re too addicted to chasing after your high that you don’t put a stop to it. “Gonna give you a baby.”
“Please.” You moan out, the word coming out ragged and strained. Speaking is difficult, so so difficult. He’s happy to hear your beautiful voice, nonetheless.
“Atta girl. I knew you would understand.” 
As if confirming to him that the two of you are meant to be, you both cum at the same time. You feel weightless and drowsy, too out of it to even process how sloppy and wet the mess in between your legs is right now. If Choso pulls out, his cum and your juices would make the counter even more slippery. 
But Choso doesn’t pull out. His cock stays nestled in your wet heat, and he admires your fucked out form. You look a bit different from the fresh and clean girl who greeted him when he came home, but that’s okay. He loves you for you, every iteration you have to offer. He’ll carry you to the bedroom, where he can fuck you nicely, sweetly. Maybe he’ll try his hardest to not go too hard when he has you in a mating press. And after getting his fill of you, after the stresses of work disappear from his mind completely, then he’ll take you to the bathroom and get you all nice and clean. 
He’ll even be a gentleman, showcase what a great husband he’ll be, by letting you sleep in while he cooks the family breakfast.
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reiderwriter · 1 year ago
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More Than Words
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader
Requested: yes
Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.
Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.
A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.
You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!
Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”
It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.
“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.
“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.
“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.
“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”
“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”
You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.
“Promise you won’t tell?”
“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.
“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.
“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”
“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.
“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”
“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.
“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.
“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.
–X–
Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.
At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.
“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.
“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.
“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.
“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”
“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.
“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.
“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”
“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”
“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.
“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.
“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.
“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.
“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”
“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.
“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.
“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”
With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.
“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”
–X–
The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.
“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.
“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.
“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”
“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.
“What was our first date?” He asked.
“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”
“What else have we done together?”
“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”
“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.
You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.
“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”
He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.
“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.
“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.
“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”
“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.
You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.
But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.
“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.
The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.
“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”
“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.
“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”
“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”
“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.
“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”
“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.
“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.
“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.
“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.
“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”
Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.
“Mom, how did you know…”
“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,
“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.
–X–
The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.
Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.
What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?
So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.
“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.
You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.
“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.
“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.
You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.
“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.
“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.
He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”
“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.
An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.
“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.
“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.
“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.
“I don’t pick my nails!”
“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.
“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”
“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”
“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.
“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.
“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.
“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”
“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”
“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.
“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”
“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”
“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.
“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”
“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”
“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.
“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”
“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.
“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.
“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.
“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.
“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”
“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”
“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.
–X–
“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.
“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.
“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.
“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.
You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.
“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.
“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”
You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.
“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.
“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.
“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.
“Spence, what’s wrong?”
“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”
“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.
“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.
“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.
“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.
“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.
“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.
“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.
“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.
“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.
–X–
You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.
To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.
“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.
“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.
“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.
“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.
“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.
“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.
“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.
His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.
“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”
“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.
–X–
The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.
You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.
So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.
You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.
You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.
You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.
“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.
“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.
“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.
“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.
“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.
“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.
“How’d you figure it out?”
“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”
“Three.”
“Three what?”
“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.
“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.
“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”
“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”
“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”
You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.
“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.
You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.
“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.
“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.
“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.
You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.
“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.
“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”
Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.
“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.
“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.
“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.
“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.
“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.
“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”
“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.
“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.
“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.
“Yes?”
“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.
But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.
“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.
“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.
He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.
“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.
“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.
He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.
“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.
“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.
“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.
It never did.
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bobluvbot · 9 months ago
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late night cravings
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pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)  wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach  a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3
opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part. 
back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest. 
you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort. 
judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement. 
Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts. 
defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world. 
that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.
Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall. 
this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.
but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better. 
You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.
But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.
Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did. 
You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft. 
Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.
The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier. 
Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it. 
Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare. 
Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa? 
It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.
Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal. 
Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.
Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.
You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.
Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.
Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope. 
The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.
“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.
He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.
“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response. 
The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell? 
And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.
“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy. 
It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.
You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread. 
Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”
Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.
But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.
Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back. 
But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm. 
What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.
Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man. 
Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”
He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.
So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.
Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him. 
Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach. 
you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.
Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?” 
“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.” 
To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.
“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”
He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.
“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind. 
Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.
“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck. 
You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence. 
“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.” 
“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”
He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin. 
So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought. 
“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”
“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?” 
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planetaryupscaled · 6 months ago
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Disenchanted 6
Male Reader x Karina
Tags: 2k, cheating, creampie, cuckold, daddy kink
The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.
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It was well past 2am before Karina and I finished our marathon sex session. The ravishing woman having run out of energy, just letting me lazily pump her cunt with the last of my load for the evening.
It was a surprise that Jaewook was still asleep throughout the ordeal, given the fact that Karina and I really didn’t hold back, I even held her face against his thigh at one point, while railing her from behind, the slaps of flesh distorted by Jaewook’s snores.
I left an exhausted looking Karina to get some much needed sleep, lying face down next to her husband, covering her silky naked form with the sheets before closing the bedroom door behind me. There was an ache in my legs as I slowly descended the wooden stairs. I must have emptied at least five loads inside her that night, my sack was still reeling from the demands I put on it, my cock slowly getting accustomed to not being snugly sheathed within Karina’s tight body.
Opening the doors and slipping into the early morning air sent a ripple of energy spiraling through my senses. My eyes perking up suddenly at the rush of cold wind now billowing all around me as I retired back inside my homely lodge just in time before the heavens opened up with rain coming splashing down on the wooden roof. In many respects, tonight had been more extreme than the Yeonjun, Hajoon affair, it was with her husband, one she shunned for most of the night. Not that Jaewook caught on at first, but I had a feeling he was starting to connect the dots, the longer the three of us fucked. It was the little things, like the eye contact she gave me while we made love, not the same if any when it came to her husband. It was almost like he was, as she described Yeonjun and Hajoon before, a prop. It would not be too long till that final blow would be dealt, to my knowledge we were going to tell Jaewook in a few hours, not knowing what the best time to spill the beans was, if ever. Little did I know the blow would be dealt far sooner than expected and in the most brutal fashion imagined.
“Hey...can I come in?” Karina said, amidst the increasingly loud pitter patter of the rain outside.
I must have fallen asleep, checking my watch it was now half five in the morning with the birds already chirping outside.
“Hey...sure...come in.” I replied, getting up and ushering a soaking Karina in.
She was drenched, wearing nothing but a white bra and matching underwear, as she strolled into my posh glamping abode, a wicked smile strewn across her face.
“Karina, you are soaked...” I said, wrapping a towel around her and bringing her into the warmth by the fireplace.
“More than you know.” She chimed back, looking at me with those deep brown eyes of hers.
I felt like she wanted to tell me something, something important, there was a level of excitement emanating from her that I could not quite pinpoint.
“So...I had a talk with Jaewook” Karina said, “it’s over...”  with finality, running her hands along my arm.
“Um...what...I thought we were going to do it tog...” I started.
“It’s better this way.” She replied with a smile.
“How...did he take it?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not good at first, there were tears, his tears that is and then anger, then tears again. I left him in the bedroom to think it through, but I am pretty sure he has passed out again.” Karina said.
“Wow...so...” I replied.
“So...I guess that’s that...” Karina said, closing the gap.
“I’m yours...” She followed up.
“Seriously Karina, you wanna fool around after such a big decision has bee...” I started again, before getting interrupted by a kiss.
Her soft lips melded with mine, as if we were made for one another, the warmth of the fire stoking our bodies as I pulled her closer for a deeper embrace.
“You know...we were meant to do this together right?” I said, staring at her beautiful face.
“Guess...I’ve been a bad girl...” Karina replied, placing her hands on my chest.
“You know what happens to bad girls right?” I replied, catching onto the sudden erotic turn of events.
“What’s that?” She said, biting down hard on my lip as I felt her hands roam into my pants and grab harshly at my sack.
“They get...punished...” I replied, moaning at her touch while simultaneously man handling her to the bed.
“Wait...” Karina said.
“Film it...” She followed up with a cheeky grin.
I walked over to the side table, propping up my phone and pressing record, making sure the lens captured everything. This was to be our second video, and I wanted it to be hotter than the last.
“Ass across my lap, young lady.” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Karina presented her pert derriere to me.
“You ready?” I asked, palms already about to strike.
She looked at me, over her shoulder, in anticipation, sucking down on my thumb from my free hand.
“Don’t hold back...be rough with me...Daddy.” Karina said, seductively, before tensing her rear for me in quiet trepidation.
I drove down with full force, not holding back as I connected with Karina’s ass cheeks, the ripple effect causing a loud slapping noise to ring off the walls.
“Ahhhhh...Daddy...” Karina wailed.
“You like that?” I replied, coming down harder this time, slapping her rear while squeezing her red raw flesh under my hands.
“Yes...AHHH...harder...ahhhh.” Karina screamed, her rear now getting battered from my slaps.
Karina started whimpering with each subsequent smack, her body trembling under my grasp, till the brunette turned around over her shoulder, eyes watering slightly at the force of my strikes.
“Fuckkk...fuck me now.” Karina said breathlessly.
I was lost in the moment, my hand still shaking after smacking her ass red raw, staring down at Karina’s tight body, I slipped out of my boxers and rammed myself as far as I could into her married cunt. My tip piercing her silky folds with ease as I split the mother of three open with my cock, my crown roughly smashing up against her cervix with a thud as I bottomed her out. Karina felt different this time, kinkier in her requests as if the ante had been dialed up a few more notches as she pushed back onto my deep hard thrusts. Her walls sucking my shaft off as I drilled her mercilessly into the mattress, adding a few more slaps to her ass each time I pumped her cunt with more of my dick.
“Pull...my hair...” Karina said between moans, sucking on my fingers as I pried her mouth open with one hand and yanked on her hair with another.
It was the roughest we had ever been, but she loved it, arching her back to allow me to penetrate her pussy to the fullest, filling her pink chamber with my meat as I stuffed her unfaithful cunt with cock.
“Ughhh…Minho...yes...fuck...dadddyyyy...” Karina moaned, her eyes locked on the camera as I railed her in the prone position.
It was just in that moment that the front door swung open. her husband Jaewook standing a few feet away from us, a look of horror on his face. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, words failing him as he just watched, slack jawed as Karina and I stared back at him.
“Moree...give me more...” Karina demanded.
We were too far gone, not giving a shit about other people’s feelings at this point, we just needed to get off.
“You like that?” I asked, spanking her rear.
“Uhhh...yes...just...like...that...daddy.” She replied, biting her lips.
“Better than your husbands?” I asked, through gritted teeth as I fucked more of my straining cock into her tight pussy.
She raised her head, looking Jaewook deep in his tearful eyes as I penetrated her cunt.
“Worlds...better...” She replied with little remorse, pushing back on me as I flipped her over onto her back.
“Spread your legs baby.” I said, rubbing furiously at her throbbing clitoris.
She complied, parting her bronze thighs for me as I pierced her folds with my dick once more. I could sense her eyes ever so often glance over at a frozen Jaewook, his face not showing anger or sadness anymore, but acceptance as I spread his wife’s legs wider, spearing her cunt with deep rupturing strokes.
Karina’s cries of pleasure were mounting, her body was shaking as the brunette hung her head of the side of the bed, allowing me to plough into her marital pussy over and over again, ripping through her pussy with a hunger what needed to be satiated. My cock irrigating her womb of air, the more meat I fucked into her, forcing it out in a hurry, causing a highly erotic farting noise to ring out from between her legs.
I slipped my fingers into her mouth, pumping my dick deeper into her womb, feeling the warmth of her cunt urging me for release as we locked eyes.
“I want to feel you cum...” Karina moaned.
“Wai...” Jaewook spoke, his voice feeble in the distance.
We ignored his plea, locked in our own mating ritual as Karina pushed her hips towards me with each thrust, goading me into seeding her pussy.
“Fuck a baby into me...” Karina whispered, into my ear, loud enough for the killer blow to be heard by Jaewook.
It was enough to set us both off as I fucked my cock deep into Karina’s cunt, exploding at the tip as my pent up sperm peppered her cervix, leaking into her uterus as I injected her twitching womb with my thick milk.
“Ughhhh...baby...fill me...fill...me...up.” Karina groaned.
Her own orgasm triggering as I pumped her pussy fill of cum, my seed dribbling out the sides off her slit as I felt a rush of fresh fluids rush against my cock. She was gushing, the mix of my seed and her juices now coalesced as I force fed her married pussy more of my meat and sperm, right in front of her husband. I felt wave after wave of my cum, pump into her luscious cunt, spurt after spurt painting her insides in my sticky white milk.
Karina was dripping from the rear, as I finally stopped twitching inside her. The slickness of her womb bore the fruits of our labor as her gushing ceased, the stickiness smeared all over her inner thighs, dripping down her red raw ass cheeks as she got up and lay beside me in a huff. We stared at each other for a long moment, forgetting our unwanted guest for a few seconds as his sobs started again. Looking over, Karina purposely strode over to him, still leaking her womanly fluids form her slippery well fucked pussy.
“Jaewook...it’s over.” She said firmly, before turning to me wearing a smile on her face.
I looked at her, amazed and slightly shocked at the brutality of it all. Everything was caught on camera, the sex, the moans, the spanking, the lot. Rolling her hips on my lap while Jaewook took a last look at his wife, she turned to me, taking my tongue between her lips and sucking me firmly.
“Now...fuck me till I pass out...” Karina said, slipping my spent cock back into her freshly claimed cunt.
In that moment, she belonged to me, and she knew it, presenting her body to me for me to claim, claim her mind, body and soul, Karina was mine.
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daemonsversion · 11 months ago
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Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader
Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.
Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.
Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)
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The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.
With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.
So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.
You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.
"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.
Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.
You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"
"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.
He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.
"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.
Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.
Idiot.
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Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.
'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'
The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.
You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?
A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.
"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.
With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.
He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.
You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.
"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.
You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.
"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"
Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.
Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.
"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.
"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.
"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.
Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.
However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!
After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.
"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?
Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.
Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.
"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.
"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.
Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"
"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.
"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?
"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.
"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"
"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.
The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.
"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.
In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.
His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.
His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.
His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.
Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."
The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.
Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.
You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.
Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.
"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!
The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.
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The night was quiet.
The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.
His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.
You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.
Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.
Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.
You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.
Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?
As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.
With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...
Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.
The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.
The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?
"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.
Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.
"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.
He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.
His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.
Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.
You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."
"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.
"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?
Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.
You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.
"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."
"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.
He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.
"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.
As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.
"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.
"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.
"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.
Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.
You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...
As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.
However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."
A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.
"What?"
"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"
A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?
"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!
Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.
"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.
Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.
A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.
Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.
You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.
You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.
His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.
This is wrong, your mind was screaming.
But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?
Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.
The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.
Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.
There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.
You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.
Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.
"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."
You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.
But you didn't.
Because you wanted him.
You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.
You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.
But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.
His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.
Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.
It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.
He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.
"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."
Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.
His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.
When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.
You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.
His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.
Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.
Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.
Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.
He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.
You whimpered desperately.
Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.
"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.
He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."
"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.
"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.
Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.
Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.
"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.
"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.
If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.
Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.
He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.
His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.
He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.
The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.
For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.
It was perfect.
He was perfect.
"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.
You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.
Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."
"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.
"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."
"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.
You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.
Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.
It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.
Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.
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When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.
Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.
The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.
If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.
"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.
Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.
Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.
You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.
"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.
"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."
You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!
Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."
"You said you would leave!"
Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"
You scoffed. "Right."
"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.
There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.
"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.
Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."
You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.
"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."
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urstruly-ghst · 8 days ago
Text
do you think i have forgotten? - leona kingscholar and malleus draconia
in which you two were separated for too long (inspired by about you by the 1975 and astronomy by conan gray <3)
authors note: happy new years! for the new year, im giving sadness!
cw: a bit suggestive (its implied something happened)
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leona kingscholar
being someone to leona was easier than you expect, he's a big softie at heart. you learned that quite quickly when you first step foot into the palace. you were simply a visitor, but that wasn't what leona thought.
it was idiotic, you think looking back at it now, that you thought this romance would last. the blossoming friendship you harbored changed the very same night when each rendezvous turned almost vulgar.
laying down on the bed of the prince of afterglow savannah was not what you expected, but, it felt too good to let go. turns out, you were right. because he left for night raven on the same night something happened. you were upset, understandably so, how dare he leave you after the whispered promises of passion? you both never kept contact after.
but you were bold to assume he never would find you. each break, each time he can escape, he's looking for you back to the corner he met you. for many years, you were gone. but on one faithful night, just as he was about to lose hope, you appeared glowing even more.
"can't you forget me already?" you say in a hushed voice as you glare at him. leona shook his head laughing at your suggestion, as if he could ever forget you.
he placed his hands on your waist as he looked at you with such emotion, it made you question if he was really leona. your glare softened up as he breathed in your scent.
"i would never. do you really think i have forgotten our promises?" leona asked. he then sighed in relief as your arms wrapped around him too, he thanked every star for this moment. this time, he won't be idiotic enough to leave without knowing how to contact you.
"besides, night raven can't compare to the few nights we had"
"leona!" you hit him as he smirked while laughing. not noticing how his tail wrapped around you, to make sure you'd never leave again.
malleus draconia
how you met him was something you'll never forget. it was at a random museum and that one gargoyle you saw intrigued you, it had such detail you never saw possible for such a small gargoyle. that was when a horned fae appeared behind you.
you also remembered how you refused to give him your name, suspecting some sort of scam, but that never hindered him or you. that trip had so much memories without ever knowing who he truly was. for malleus, it was a dream, someone who shared the same interests and no fear.
but, it was also during this time, something bloomed. each day, you kept coming back to that gargoyle. and each time, malleus appears. it was like this for nearly 2 months, but those months of friendship and long talks turned intimate, not one of you can tell how it started. but it all ended the same, you leaving without telling who were you.
for a while, malleus pined for you. but pining wasn't meant to stop him from going to night raven. he knew he can't just leave this memory behind, but his hands were tied. he left an enchantment on the gargoyle, hoping you'd know now who he is. and when break arrived, you were there smiling.
"malleus draconia, huh?" you say as you were looking at him. you should've known from the get-go that he was no ordinary someone. he smiled and nodded, you sigh and give a him a look.
"you're not mad?" he asked as he reached out to you, you giggle and shook your head. malleus relaxed and guided you to the place you mostly spend your "dates" with. usually, you two would chatter nonstop, but it was now quiet.
malleus felt anxious but before he spoke, you looked at him, eyes filled with hurt, "i thought you forgot about me"
and that sent malleus in a spiral. how dare you think he'd toss you away that easily? do you think of him so low? he reached out for you and looked a bit mad.
"do you think i would just forget the days and nights where you made me feel like im not to be feared? do you think, just because i am malleus draconia, i could abandon you without second thought? do you dare to think i forgot about you?" he said passionately and grabbed both of your hands before declaring
"not a single night where you haven't passed my thoughts. my dear, you have managed to bewitch me, without even having to lift a finger. just say you'll be mine, and..." malleus stared hesitantly before you smile and hum.
"i was yours the moment you saw me"
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merxcywritesthings · 24 days ago
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𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦.
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A/N: This idea has been itching in the back of my head all day that I couldn’t help but write it down. Enjoy my lovelies.
TW: Cheating, Angst to Comfort, Yelling, Grief.
Word Count: 1.3K
Reader is Female
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The evening air was thick with the usual hustle and bustle of Piltover’s streets, the city’s golden glow reflecting off polished steel and glass. You paced nervously in your modest apartment, going over your latest conversation with Vi in your mind. The room felt smaller than usual, closing in with every unresolved thought.
୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨
Before the fractures started to show, there was a time when everything felt perfect. You and Vi would lie together in the dim glow of lanterns, sprawled across the couch in her Zaunite hideout or tucked away in your Piltover apartment. She’d whisper wild dreams about a future where Zaun and Piltover weren’t at each other’s throats, where no one had to fight to survive.
“You know what I think about sometimes?” Vi had asked one night, her head resting on your chest as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her pink hair. “A wedding. Ours. Somewhere at the border where Zaun and Piltover meet. A big bridge all lit up with lights. No sides. Just us.”
You’d laughed softly, your hand pausing in her hair. “You? Thinking about a wedding? That’s rich.”
She’d grinned up at you, punching your arm lightly. “Hey, don’t ruin my moment. I’m being serious here. Just imagine it, yeah? Everyone from both cities, sitting together, watching us make something real. Something they’d have to believe in because we believed in it first.”
Her words had filled you with a warmth so deep it made your chest ache. You’d cupped her face, looking into those sharp, determined eyes. “I’d marry you anywhere, Vi. Even if it’s just us on some rooftop in Zaun. But if that’s your dream, then I’ll make it mine, too.”
The smile she gave you then was unlike any you’d ever seen—soft, vulnerable, and full of hope. For a moment, it felt like anything was possible.
୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨
But dreams are fragile things, easily broken by reality. As the weeks passed, the cracks in that perfect vision began to show. It started with small disagreements, the weight of your responsibilities in Piltover colliding with her unwavering loyalty to Zaun. You’d tell her about the progress you were making in your work, trying to bridge gaps between the two cities, but she’d scoff, calling it naive.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Vi had said, her voice low and rough during that fateful argument. “Piltover chews people up and spits them out. You think you can change that from the inside?”
Your reply had been sharp, almost desperate. “I have to try! I can’t just… sit back and do nothing. Not everyone in Piltover is corrupt. Some of us want to make it better.”
Vi’s jaw tightened, and she let out a bitter laugh. “And what? You think they’ll listen to you because you’re one of them? You’re just another cog in their machine. You don’t belong to Zaun, and you don’t belong to me if this is the path you want.”
The words had cut deep, and neither of you had backed down. The argument spiraled into accusations and misunderstandings until she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. That was two weeks ago, and you hadn’t seen her since.
୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨
The silence between you hadn’t lasted long before the news came. Vi had been arrested during a raid on one of Zaun’s safe houses, caught in the act of defending a group of children hiding from enforcers. She hadn’t gone quietly—they said she’d taken down three officers before being subdued. You heard whispers of her being transferred to Stillwater Hold, Piltover’s most notorious prison.
You wanted to help her, but what could you do? Your position in Piltover’s hierarchy was tenuous at best. Every attempt to pull strings was met with cold refusals and veiled warnings. The system you believed in had failed her, just as she’d always said it would.
The days stretched into weeks, and though you tried to visit, the guards at Stillwater Hold never let you through. Each rejection felt like another nail in the coffin of what you and Vi had shared.
୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨
The first week after her arrest, you had told yourself she’d come back. That somehow, some way, you’d find a way to fix things. But as days turned into weeks, the silence spoke louder than any words could. You threw yourself into your work, trying to drown the ache in productivity. Every morning you donned the mask of a dedicated citizen of Piltover, hoping no one noticed the cracks. At night, the silence of your apartment swallowed you whole.
Months passed, and the emptiness became a part of you, a dull ache that refused to fade. You told yourself you were moving on, but every corner of Piltover held memories of her—the way she’d smirk at the absurdity of high-society parties, or how her fingers felt laced with yours as you walked the streets together.
୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨
But tonight was different. Tonight, you couldn’t focus. The city’s energy only served as a painful reminder of the life you and Vi had once dreamed of together—a bridge between two worlds, something neither of you had fully understood but had hoped to build.
A loud cheer from the street below broke your thoughts. Curious, you moved to the window, brushing aside the curtain. A festival was in full swing, the streets alive with laughter and music. And then you saw her.
Vi.
She stood out effortlessly, her pink hair glowing under the lantern lights, her confident stance drawing eyes. But it wasn’t just her presence that made your heart stop. It was the way she leaned toward someone, her hands resting casually on Caitlyn Kiramman’s waist. The enforcer’s dark hair framed her delicate features, and her smile was bright and unguarded as she whispered something that made Vi laugh.
Your chest tightened as Vi’s laughter softened, her face inching closer to Caitlyn’s. And then they kissed. It wasn’t hesitant or fleeting. It was passionate, the kind of kiss that spoke of intimacy and trust—a connection.
Your breath hitched, and you stepped back from the window, your hands trembling. The sight was burned into your mind, a cruel reminder of everything you’d lost. The ache in your chest blossomed into a full-fledged storm, rage and sorrow intertwining until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
You thought of the nights you’d stayed awake, waiting for her to come back. Of the times she’d held you close, promising that no matter what, you were her safe haven. All of it seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the reality of what you’d just seen.
The urge to confront her was overwhelming, but what would you even say? That it wasn’t fair? That you still loved her? That you’d been wrong to think you could make a difference in Piltover without her by your side?
You stepped away from the window, the walls of your apartment suddenly suffocating. With trembling hands, you grabbed your coat and headed outside, blending into the festive crowds. The music was too loud, the colors too bright, but you walked aimlessly, desperate to escape the whirlpool of emotions inside you.
Eventually, you found yourself at the edge of the festival, where the noise faded into the quiet hum of the city. You leaned against a cold, steel railing, staring out over the distant horizon. Zaun’s shadowed depths loomed below, a reminder of where Vi had come from and where you could never truly follow her.
Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you let them fall. For the first time, you allowed yourself to grieve—not just for the love you’d lost, but for the dream that had shattered between you. And as the city lights flickered around you, you made a quiet promise to yourself.
You would move forward, step by step, even if it hurt. Because if there was one thing Vi had taught you, it was that survival wasn’t about never falling—it was about finding the strength to rise again.
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𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! ❤️
𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦: @𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠-𝑛-𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒
𝐺𝐼𝐹 𝑏𝑦: @𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑠
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