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mytherapyisreading14 · 2 days ago

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can you write a reader x professor!spencerreid? Reader is a Student & they meet the night before classes start & immediately hit it off😏 iykyk

kinda like aria and ezra from pretty little liars but with much more spice🌶

And the storyline kinda follows them through the semester, pls make it a bit angsty 🤏 BUT with happy ending 🥺🙏

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: You find out that the man you hooked up with last night is your new Professor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual harassment, fake dating, age gap, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby etc.), praise kink, choking, fingering, oral sex (f & m), orgasm denial, spanking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), dom!spencer (If I missed any warnings, please tell me)

Word Count: 5,8k

Author’s Note: Hey, I hope you like the way it turned out. I was also planning to write a story where they meet before and then find out that he’s her Professor, so your Request came in just in the right time :)

The club is loud, the bass booms through the room and the lights flicker in time with the music. You're at the bar, sipping your drink as you take a little break from dancing. The sweat clings to your skin and you just need a moment for yourself. The air is heavy, mixed with alcohol and perfume and you consider going out to get some fresh air.

Suddenly you feel someone standing next to you. You smell the strong alcohol on his breath before you even see him. The warmth of his body is already reaching you across the room, and you have to lower your gaze to keep him from seeing you rolling your eyes. You know what’s about to happen. You feel his presence, and it's uncomfortable as he moves even closer to you.

“Babe, you look so hot. Do you want to spend the night with me?” The words come out of his mouth sharp and dirty, and he puts an arm around you as if he had already won you. An unpleasant feeling spreads through you and you try to avoid it, turning your body away from him. “No, not interested,“ you say, calmer that you‘re feeling right now.

But he doesn't let go, strokes your back, moves even closer to you and his voice becomes more urgent. “Come on, I can help you relax a little bit." It happens so quickly, you barely have enough time to breathe when you feel a new presence behind you. You turn to the side and see a man standing in front of you. His eyes are hazel brown and his long, curly hair falls over his forehead. His posture is confident, almost a bit protective.

“Let her go. She said no.” His voice is deep and calm, a contrast to the urgent tone of the man at your side. The guy next to you stares at the new man now looming in front of him. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s scared. You can practically see how small and insecure he feels as he moves away from you. He mutters something that sounds like an insulting comment, but he quickly turns around and disappears into the crowd again. You breath out relived.

For a moment everything remains silent, only the distant noise of the music can be heard. You look at the man who just saved you. His big brown eyes meet yours, and for a moment everything else around you disappears. He looks incredibly good. Then, realizing he got you out of the awkward situation, you send him a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. “Can I buy you a drink?” It somehow feels right to make this gesture to show your gratitude. He nods, a small, almost shy smile crossing his lips, and you can't help but notice how charming he seems. “Gladly,” he replies. You turn to the bartender and order two drinks as he sits down on a bar stool next to you.

You hand him the drink and introduce yourself. It’s really hard to stop staring into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m Spencer. I’m really sorry that this asshole bothered you,” he says. You shrug unimpressed. “Sad truth is, I’m used to it. At least he backed off quickly now, thanks to you,” you say and smile. The night suddenly feels less chaotic as you continue talking to your unexpected savior.

The loud music in the background seems to fade more and more, as if you are immersed in your own little world. The conversation with him feels light and relaxed, almost like you've known each other forever. You've been talking about books for a while now, the two of you found out that you both love reading.

“And what was the last book you read?” you ask with an interested smile as you look at him. Spencer smiles and leans back a little, his gaze becoming thoughtful. “The last book I read was Bare Reflections.”

You take a sip of your drink and grin when you hear the title. “Sounds… not exactly like what I expected from you.” The alcohol creeps into your head and makes you a little braver than usual, so you decide to tease him, “I didn’t think you’d read a book like that. You seem far too decent for that.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, and for a moment you're not sure if he's irritated or amused. Then he folds his arms over his chest, his posture becoming a little stiffer. "I had to read it for a case we were working on," he says, his voice still calm but now also slightly challenging.

“And what impression do you have of me? Do you think that I might not have interests in that direction? That I'm not able to take control in situations?“ A smile spreads across your face as you feel the tension in the air shift. You can't help but grin. It's a mix of amusement and a little challenge.

“Well, at least not like that,” you reply, looking at him cheekily. “Feel free to convince me otherwise.” And you wink at him, the words sound almost like a game. You see his pupils dilate as he looks at you. A little spark jumps between you. He pauses for a moment, as if considering how to react.

Then his posture changes, he moves a little closer, leans forward and indicates with his hand that you should lean a little towards him. You do, curious to see what comes next. As you lean closer to him, you feel his breath on your skin, and he whispers to you in a voice so deep and quiet that it gets right under your skin. “Let me convince you otherwise.”

Your alarm goes off way too early, but you just turn to the side and turn it off. You squint against the bright sunlight shining through the blinds. The last bit of sleep still clings to you as you slowly push yourself up and put your head in your hands. It takes a moment but then the memories of last night kick in. Spencer. The thought of him brings a smile to your lips. Last night was perfect. He was good. Very good actually. The best you've ever had. Luckily you still remember everything.

His lips against yours, his tongue inside your mouth. His body as he pushed you against the wall. His big, rough hands that squeezed your breasts, wrapped so perfectly around your throat and reached all the spots inside you that you never could. The way he manhandled you so perfectly, rough but somehow also gentle and caring in the right moments. The way he fucked you and used you for his own pleasure, making you a moaning mess. He ruined you for every other man.

But now he is no longer here. You glance at the other side of the bed, it's empty. No trace of him. Just silence. He left when you were still asleep. A little bit of disappointment stirs within you. You were hoping maybe he would stay after all. Maybe have a coffee with you, or just… be there.

The sex was good but there was more. You really enjoyed talking to him. But then again, it was only a one night stand. Today it's the first day at university anyway, it's better to leave early in order to be there on time. If he had stayed here longer you certainly wouldn't have come on time. With a sigh, you push the covers back and swing your legs out of bed.

The floor is cold. You take a look at your phone and check the time. It’s 10:45 a.m. Your first lecture is in just over an hour. You quickly put on a light jacket and then, half asleep, you make your way to the bathroom. You are still tired but the feeling from last night remains. At least this day is off to a semi good start.

You pack your bag, throw in everything you need, your iPad, headphones, lip gloss, some chewing gum and all the other stuff. You rush out of the apartment, bag on your shoulder and keys in hand. You get on the bus that takes you to university and the fresh morning wind blows in your face. It's the first day. You can't wait to see what it brings.

You sit at the front of the lecture hall, the place is comfortable, the view of the board is perfect. Your iPad is in front of you and you're doodling on it out of boredom. The conversations of the other students still chatting sound like a distant murmur to your ears. You are excited and nervous. The first day of the new semester, the first lecture.

The room is slowly filling up and the last students are still finding their place. It‘s almost 12 o'clock and you’re still waiting for your friend Finn to arrive. He slept in and you told him you’re going to safe him a seat. You hear the lecture hall doors open, but you hardly notice it. You are lost in your thoughts, thinking about how hard it will be to concentrate on the lesson when Spencer is the only thing on your mind right now.

Then, suddenly, everything becomes quiet. All the conversations around you fall silent immediately. It's like someone flipped a switch. You look up, not sure why, and then you see him. Your new Professor. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Spencer. He is standing at the entrance to the lecture hall. For a moment time stops.

The Spencer you had in your bed last night, the Spencer who gave you orgasm after orgasm, the Spencer who made you scream his name is now suddenly your professor. A look of confusion crosses his face, but then he quickly catches himself, puts on his serious expression, and turns away as if he's trying to ignore you.

The tension is thick in the air, but Spencer makes no move to pay attention to you. You bite your lip, anger rising inside you. It hurts. You never thought he would just dismiss you so coldly. You try to concentrate on the lecture, but Spencer, now Professor Reid, brings back memories of that night. And you wonder how he manages to act like there's nothing between you.

Nothing happens throughout the entire lecture. No look. Not a single word. You fight your anger as he explains the first topic and requirements for the exams in a calm voice, but you don't hear anything. Your thoughts only revolve around what happened earlier. Why is he completely ignoring you? Does he think you’re not going to keep this a secret?

Finally, after what feels like forever, the lecture is over. The room slowly empties and you remain seated in your row while the other students leave the lecture hall. Your pulse is racing, but you need to know what's going on between you now. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you spilling this secret. You can't just go home and let it go now.

You get up, pack up your things and walk towards Spencer. You have the feeling that every step you take now echoes throughout the room. "Spencer… I mean, Professor Reid, can we talk?" you call but before you even get to the front he has already packed all his things and leaves the room without paying any attention to you.

You stop, angry, hurt, disappointed. The lump in your throat keeps getting bigger. You feel empty, like the ground has been pulled out from under you. What is he thinking? Why is he acting like this now? Why can't you just clarify the problem? With one last look at the door, you leave the lecture hall and know that this is far from over.

The next few weeks are not different. He avoids you, ignores you completely and you hope your grades won't be negatively affected, but you're willing to take him on if it comes to that. You're on your way to your next lecture when suddenly someone calls you. You turn around and see Finn. You met him during your first semester and have been friends ever since.

Finn sprints a few steps until he is next to you and holds out your headphones. “You forgot your headphones in the library earlier,” he says. “Oh, thanks! I already looked for them, I thought I just forgot them at home again.” You take them out of his hands and quickly put them in your bag.

As you stroll through the hallway together, you suddenly hear Spencer's voice and automatically turn around. You see him holding a coffee and talking to another student. She laughs and you can clearly see her getting closer to him, flirting and throwing herself at him. You immediately feel panic rising within you.

Every girl you knew has a crush on him. You can’t blame them, he’s attractive after all, but you can’t help but feel jealous. He ignores you but lets other students hit on him. This is too much. Why does he play this game with you like nothing happened while he behaves like this towards others?

Suddenly he turns around and meets your eyes. It's the first time that your eyes cross again since he came in on the first day. You can see a fleeting grin on his face before he turns away again. He leans down to the student who is showing him her notes, and you can see her leaning even closer towards him. The knot in your stomach tightens.

Finn follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued and with a look that almost seems too amused, he asks, “Are you okay? You look… hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you feel the fear bubbling inside you. You’re afraid he found someone better than you. "Let's go."

You enter the lecture hall together but you can't concentrate. Spencer is in your head the whole time, and the more you think about the scene, the angrier you get. And then suddenly an idea comes to you. A plan. A very good plan. Maybe you can play this game too and make him jealous, but on your terms.

After the lecture, you stay with Finn and wait until most of the other students have left the room. You look around once to make sure no one is listening before you whisper, “I need your help. But you have to promise me you won’t ask any questions.” Finn looks at you curiously. “Okay, what’s this about?”

You sigh and look him straight in the eyes. “I wanted to ask you if it would be okay with you if you helped me make someone jealous. Pretend you’re interested in me and dating me,” you explain to him.

Finn grins, a slight smile spreading across his face. “Of course I can do that.” Then he tilts his head slightly. “But I do have one question. Does this whole thing have something to do with Professor Reid? I can tell something happened between you,” he asks with an amused look.

You immediately blush and try not to get caught. “Shh, keep quiet,” you whisper, looking around nervously. “And I said no questions. So, are you in or not?” Finn laughs, shakes his head and raises his hands as if to apologize. “Okay, okay, I understand. Sure, I can help you.” You breathe out a sigh of relief and grin at him. "Thanks!"

A few days later you can finally carry out your plan. Finn sits down next to you in the lecture hall and as soon as Spencer enters the room, Finn leans closer to you and casually puts an arm around the chair next to you. Then he whispers in your ear. "I'm curious to see if that works."

Even though you said he shouldn't ask any questions, you told him what happened between you and Spencer. You know you can trust him and he would find out sooner or later anyway because he plays along with this whole thing.

You giggle softly. "I really hope so. Thank you for taking part in all of this,” you say quietly but you get interrupted immediately. "If you think you need to talk while I'm teaching, you can leave straight away. I expect everyone to be quiet,” Spencer says and when you look up you can see his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. You lean a little further away from Finn and can't help but smile.

That went faster than expected. You notice that he is no longer ignoring you. His eyes keep wandering over to you to see what you are doing, if Finn is getting closer to you. The atmosphere is not as relaxed as it used to be, everyone can tell the he is not in a good mood today.

When the lecture is over you pack your things and as you leave the room Finn puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You can feel Spencer’s gaze following you and you're annoyed that you didn't think of making him jealous sooner. But it doesn’t matter now, you’re happy your plan works.

Unfortunately you weren't able to carry out your plan any further this week. Spencer has been missing the rest of the week and you assume he is busy working on a case with the team. It felt like the week wasn't going to end at all and when you go to the library with Finn on Monday morning, you hope that Spencer is coming back now.

You sit down at the table together with a coffee and start writing on your essays, using the free time to get ahead with it. You're completely focused on your work until Finn suddenly bumps into you with his leg under the table. You look up confused before he places a hand on your thigh and leans forward. He whispers in your ear "Your favorite professor is back.”

You nod and lean in closer too, you don't want to look in Spencer’s direction so that he thinks you haven't noticed him. “Is it okay if we kiss?” you ask and Finn nods. You try to ignore Spencer as much as he ignored you. But you can still feel his gaze fixed on you.

Finn leans forward and places a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. When he leans back he can see Spencer’s angry look. "He didn't look happy with it,“ he says and you laugh. "Then I did everything right. I hope that this was not too much. I'm sorry then." You say but he just waves it off. "It's all good, I agreed to the whole thing. I just hope that it works out for you in the end,” he says and winks at you.

The two of you stay a little longer and continue learning and working on your essays but after a while you decide to leave. You turn to Finn. “I'll leave now. I can't concentrate anymore anyway. And thanks for helping me out again.” You say, packing up your things. "No problem. I'll stay a little longer and use the time I’ve left. I'll see you tomorrow then,” he says and you nod. "See you tomorrow.”

It feels like a small victory as you leave the library. Not only have you made progress with your learning, but you have also been able to continue putting your plan into action. If you and Finn keep it up, Spencer will definitely talk to you about it soon.

Now you just want to listen to music and get rid of the remaining tension and you look for your headphones in your bag again. They must be somewhere between the notes and other things, you're sure you packed them this time. “Where the fuck are they?” you mutter under your breath and continue digging in your bag.

But then you suddenly feel a movement in front of you. You look up and freeze. There he stands. Spencer. Arms crossed, eyes sternly fixed on you. You immediately tear your eyes away from his and want to walk past him without saying a word, but he notices what you're up to. He's getting in your way.

“What do you want now?” You try to keep your voice calm, but inside your heart is already beating a little faster. The look he gives you is hard, almost annoyed.

“You will come with me,” he says. You cross your arms over your chest and looking at him as if you are really annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean? I have to go home.”

He shakes his head. “You’re coming with me now. We need to talk.” You roll your eyes. "Oh, do we now? And what exactly do you want to talk about, Professor?” Your voice sounds sharper than you planned. “You’ve just been ignoring me for the last few weeks. Do you even know my name anymore?” you ask him. “Why should I have forgotten your name?” he asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Because you‘ve been ignoring me since our first day here! I understand, I'm your student now, but I -“ you start but he interrupts you. You see his face harden, his expression becoming even more serious. “Not here. Come with me, now.” You feel a mixture of anger and nervousness building up inside you. You just want to brush him off, but somehow you also feel like challenging him.

“Make me,” you say, your voice challenging, almost mocking. You look him straight in the eyes, watching what he'll do next. He barely blinks, glancing quickly down the hall as if to make sure no one sees you. Then he suddenly grabs your arm. It‘s not a gentle hold, he grabs you firmly, dragging you behind him without another word.

“You should really stop messing with me.�� He sounds angry. “I like trouble,” you say with a smirk and try to pull away. But you feel his hand holding you tight. One last thought comes to you before you're dragged down the hallway. What the hell does he actually want from you now?

A few minutes later you are standing in front of his office and he unlocks the door. You go in and look around. It's the first time you're here, you never went to his office hours. There are a lot of books lying around and you take a look at the titles. Spencer, on the other hand, locks the door behind you. You're about to reach for a book, but he interrupts you.

“I want to talk to you. Sit down,” he says and points to the chair on the opposite side of the table. You think about it for a moment, but decide against it. Instead you stay in front of his table with your arms crossed. You want to get back at him for treating you like that, even if it's hard because you want nothing more than for him to kiss and touch you again.

“Oh now, after weeks, you want to talk. In case you haven't noticed, Professor, I've been wanting to talk for a long time. You were the one who disappeared straight away when I approached you,” you say and roll your eyes again. You are curious to see how long he will let you continue like this before he snaps.

He stands up and walks towards you in long, slow steps. When he stands in front of you he lifts your chin. He finally touches you again you feel a shiver run down your spine. His pupils are dark and you can see the lust in them you already saw the night you first met.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t talk to you, baby?” he asks and you can’t help yourself and nod. You need to know what he is thinking. He leans down and his mouth is directly against your ear. Being this close to him again turns you on immensely.

“All I could think about after this night was you - your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, your pretty pussy taking me so well and your sweet moans when I made you come. It was a shame that I couldn't stay longer in the morning to fuck you again. You've been on my mind the whole time after that night. And then I come in, for work, and you're sitting there. All I wanted was to bend you over my table and fuck you again,” he says before he leans back to look into your eyes again.

“But I was overwhelmed by the whole situation. It was my first day as a professor and I didn't want to risk getting fired. That's why I avoided you. I saw how much it bothered you and I have to admit, I liked seeing you so jealous when I was talking to other students, to see that I have this effect on you.” His face suddenly hardens again. “Until you thought you had to play this game with me too and make me jealous with your friend. I knew it from the beginning.”

You grin and decide to continue playing with him. “Oh, that doesn’t really matter to me. It still worked, didn’t it?” you say and then he finally snaps. He takes a step towards you and puts a hand around your throat, pulling you closer to him. "You've taken it too far. He kissed you, touched you, held you in his arms." His grip tightens, but you realise there is some hesitation, he’s still careful because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I can do whatever I want, professor. I am not your property,” you breath out and give him a challenging look. “No? You will be soon.“ He lets go of your throat, turns you around and bends you over his desk. “Actions have consequences and you will now see what yours have.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you shutter in excitement.

He notices and chuckles before he flips your skirt over and exposes your underwear. His hands roam over your ass, squeezing it before he pulls back and suddenly his hand comes down onto your ass. He just spanked you. You can feel a stinging sensation and it turns you on even more. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to. You’re going to count and take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand?” he asks.

You nod and he pulls you back by your hair. “Words, baby,” he says. “Yes, I - I understand.” He lets go of your hair and his hand goes back to your ass, grazing the spot he just spanked before and without a warning his hand comes down on the other side. You whimper and begin to count. “One.” His hand rubs the spot almost soothingly before he continues. You are getting wetter with each strike.

“You’re enjoying this. I can see how wet you are. I bet you missed me in the last few weeks, am I right?” he asks. “I did,” you admit before his hand comes down again. “Two,” you continue to count. “Tell me, did you touch yourself at night, thinking about me? How good I fucked you? How I made you come again and again, on my tongue and on my cock?”

He leans down to whisper in your ear again. “Because I did. I stroked myself at night, wishing it was your hand, your lips or your pussy wrapped around my cock. I couldn’t wait to finally have you again.” He admits before his hand comes down on your ass again. “Three. Yes, I - I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” you say and he chuckles.

“Just like I thought,” he says before he continues with his punishment. He turns your ass red and decides after ten strikes that you have enough. “I’m proud of you baby. You took it like the good girl we both know you are. You just need someone that discipline you sometimes. Isn’t that right?” he asks. “Thank you. That’s… that’s right Sir.”

Spencer grins and turns you around, finally pressing his lips against yours again. He taste likes coffee, toothpaste and cinnamon. It’s addictive. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan against him, pressing your body against his, roaming you hands over his chest. You remember every spot and every muscle like it was yesterday. It’s no surprise though because you had to think back to the night you spent together every evening.

Spencer starts kissing down your neck, making sure to leave a hickey there, just like he did the first time he fucked you. Your hands run through his soft hair, pressing him closer to you and when you give them a thug he growls. “Please, touch me. I need you,” you say, desperate for more. “Eager, aren’t we?” His hand slides between your legs and up your thigh.

When he finds your soaked panties he chuckles. “You’re soaked, baby. All this, just for me. Do you want me to help you out? Make you come on my mouth or my fingers again?” he asks and you nod before you breath out “Both please.” He laughs. “You really need me that badly? Then beg for it,” he says with an amused look on his face.

He’s clearly enjoying this. You don't care if you sound pathetic, you listen straight away to what he asked you to. “Please, I want you to make me come. Please fuck me with your fingers. Eat me out. I need you,” you beg. “Good girl,” he praises before he reaches for your panties and slides them down your legs.

As soon as you step out of them he grabs them and puts them in his pocket. Then he places you on his desk, presses your back down and leans forward to lick a stripe up your pussy. You moan and immediately reach for his hair again, pressing him closer to you. “Please, more,” you moan. His thumb teases your clit before he pushes two fingers into you.

Your eyes roll back and you bite down on your lip to keep quiet, which is really hard because he’s just too good. You feel everything, his tongue, his lips and the stubbles of his facial hair as he eats you out like a man starved. The combination of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure quickly, feeling how your climax approaches.

Spencer however notices too and pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “I didn’t give you permission to come,” he says and you whine. He just laughs quietly before pushing his fingers in your mouth. “Clean them,” he says and you obey. He watches you very closely and you decide to tease him more, the tip of your tongue strokes his fingertips. “Fuck me Sir, please,” you say and look straight into his eyes.

You can see the lust in them and he wastes no time and reaches for his belt, pulling his cock out. He strokes himself a few times and you can’t keep your eyes off him. “You like watching me, don’t you? Do you want to watch while I make myself come and leave you with nothing?” he asks and you immediately shake your head. “No, I need you.”

“Didn’t expect anything else from my little slut,” he says and slides his cock through your folds. You wrap your legs around him and he finally pushes in. You moan and he clasps a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet for now. I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight, but not here.” Your eyes widen. So this is not going to be the last time he fucks you.

You feel the relief, but you don't have time to think further about his words because he starts to pound into you. You missed this feeling so much and get lost in the pleasure. His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing it, just the way you told him you like it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I missed this. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. And now I finally have you again. You’re all mine. Say it.”

“I’m - I’m yours. Only yours,” you say and pull him in for a kiss. You can still taste yourself on his lips. When he pulls back he slides out of you, flipping you over and bending you over his desk again. A few seconds later he’s already back into you, fucking you from behind. He slaps your ass again and you inhale sharply. It stings more than before now, you’re sensitive after the spanking.

He lets you forget about the pain though when he keeps hitting your g-spot over and over again. The new angle makes you see stars. “God, you’re perfect. So thight and wet. I could fuck you all night,” he says while his fingers keep digging deep into your hips, holding you thight. “You should see yourself. So pretty with your ass spanked red and bent over my desk, taking my cock like a good girl.”

You can feel that you’re slowly losing control. You just want to come, especially after he denied you earlier. “Can I - can I come now please?“ you whisper while he keeps thrusting into you. “I can’t hear you. Ask again,” he says and you can tell that he’s teasing you. “Can I come?” you ask again, louder this time. “Ask nicely, baby,” he says, driving you crazy. “I want to come, can I - can I please come?” you ask again, making sure to speak loud enough this time.

“No,” he simply says, pulling out of you and pushing you on your knees. “Open,” he says and you obey, taking his cock into your mouth. He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucks your throat. You can feel his cock twitch and a few seconds later he comes inside your mouth. You swallow everything and look up to him, begging him with your eyes to finally let you come now.

He pulls you up and lifts your chin with his hand before kissing you again. “You did so good, baby. But you have to wait until we’re home. Because when I make you come again, I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that for me?” You clench your legs together in excitement. “Yes. But can we leave right away then?” you ask and he laughs. “Of course baby.” He helps you collect all your things before the two of you sneak out of his office and through the hallways to his car to drive home.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #professor reid #professor x student #post prison reid

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corkinavoid · 2 days ago

Text

DPxDC The Witch and The Ghost

On the subject that came up in my recent post, in my head, Sam and Danny are constantly having beef with each other. But never seriously.

The thing is, Danny has a lot of issues with a lot of things. He is not dead and not alive and then somehow both at the same time. He lives with parents who literally hunt him for sport, even if they are shit at it. His godfather is another can of worms that he refuses to touch entirely. On top of that, there's school, and occasional bullying, and hormones acting up, and ghost problems to deal with.

Which is why Danny is frustrated most of the time. He does a good job at keeping it at bay and not snapping at people for the tiniest inconveniences - partially, it's because he knows that his mild snapping can possibly leave the recipient frozen in a block of ice and humans are prone to hypothermia.

So, Danny is putting a lot of effort into staying reasonable and calm. And he is doing a good job at it!

And then, there's Sam. Sam is used to arguing with her parents at any given moment over literally anything. Sam is an activist who can and will insist on coming out victorious out of any fight she picks at, be it the choice of a salad dressing or discussion of global warming. Sam has opinions and is not afraid to share - more like enforce, actually - them. What's more, Sam is liminal, and she can withstand a lot more blunt ghostly force than any other human being.

Sam and Danny are friends, there's no doubt there. They love each other, they support each other, they will quite literally tear the world apart for each other.

They also argue about every fucking thing on earth. They fight over whose turn it is to pay for burgers every time they get them - which is at least thrice a week - and over the best phrase to teach a pet parrot, and the difference between 'affect' and 'effect' used in context. They put some discussions on pause just in order to find and provide research, and then they slap each other with piles of said research across the faces and get into a fist fight over water pollution.

Sam treats it as a fun activity and maybe a test run for her other fights and discussions with other people. She doesn't mind Danny's frustration and his occasional violence in the slightest, knowing perfectly well that he is no danger to her, and if she asks, he would stop at once.

Danny, on the other hand, gets a great outlet to vent and release all his pent-up emotional baggage. Sure, sometimes their fights get gruesome, and sometimes they hold grudges for days, and sometimes they can barely tolerate seeing each other because of it. But he also knows that in the end, they are friends, they are fraid, and he is safe with Sam no matter what he says or how offensive something sounds to her. Because in the end, it doesn't really matter to her. Not more than him.

Tucker is just very chill with both of them. He doesn't bother sticking with any of the sides of the arguments, switching between them or not taking part at all. He knows they are fine. He knows they just like fighting, for some weird reason. To be fair, he also picks an occasional fight or two with Sam just for the fun of it.

Gotham in general, and Batfam specifically (or Justice League, if you want) are so not prepared for the three of them when they move out of Amity. Especially if there's also Dani and/or Jazz thrown in the mix to spice things up. None of them truly bother to keep from using their powers, albeit mildly: some little hex and jinx here and there from Sam, a frozen patch on the pavement to make someone slip from Danny, some minor hacking from Tucker, a prank or two using the intangibility from Dani.

It leads to a lot of very confusing situations.

Like Batman showing up to the recent Riddler scheme to find two random teens loudly arguing over the answer to the puzzle while Riddler himself looks completely given up on getting their attention back to the important thing. The important thing being a bomb with a ticking timer on it.

Or Robin finding two siblings brawling on the rooftop, growling and screaming, rolling around and kicking their feet. He is not quick enough to catch them from falling off the edge of the three-story building, but when he peeks down, the siblings are still fighting down on the street, seemingly not even noticing the fall.

Or Red Hood having his guns miraculously stolen midfight because three kids have decided to have a sharpshooter competition with the goons acting as target practice. He honestly can't bring himself to mind, though, they really are great at hitting all the kneecaps within range. He is rather grateful they haven't included his own kneecaps in the heat of it. At least their responsible adult - a very pretty redhead - had apologized and returned his guns back.

Spoiler absolutely loves it when, right as she is about to get caught in Poison Ivy's trap, two teens show up to simultaneously wrestle with the mad greenery with their bare hands and lecture Ivy on the imprint she is leaving on the ecosystem of Gotham.

However, Red Robin absolutely hates that someone keeps getting through all of his firewalls just to leave a few cheeky comments on his recent case files. It doesn't matter that they leave some valuable intel and provide a good conclusion as well, it's the principle of the thing.

All in all, Danny and Sam are the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object, but they trade and switch places constantly and they are most definitely enjoying themselves while at it.

Everyone else, though? That depends on the circumstances.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #batman #batfam #cork prompts #sam manson #tucker foley #sam and danny are the type of friends who relish in the opportunity to fight #and yet they are not frenemies they are just friends #gotham is confused at them

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heliosunny · 23 hours ago

Note

Hello! I was curious what your take on the Amphoreus men’s reactions would be to a sick or even injured reader? I had bad nausea and a migraine today, bedridden and all, (but I’m better now!) and I fear if I was their darling they’d think I’m pregnant or something dumb like that 😂

Wishing you a lovely day! Thank you for sharing your writings ❤️

I'm sick atm so Imma answer this. Glad to hear u got better.

When you're sick

🌿 Anaxa

At first, he's simply observing. He doesn't react strongly, but his mind is already working to figure out what’s wrong.

(Watching you struggle to sit up, his eyes gleaming with amusement at first.)

Anaxa: “How fascinating. Your skin is warmer than usual, your pupils slightly dilated… Could it be a poison? Did someone poison you? Or perhaps a parasite? I do wonder.”

Anaxa is unsettlingly calm as he begins testing different treatments on you (you poor thing). You say it’s just a cold? He doesn’t believe you.

(You groan, insisting it’s just a cold. He hums, unconvinced, swirling a dark liquid in a glass.)

Anaxa: “Drink this. It may cure you, or at the very least, give me something new to analyze.”

(He scares you, but he only wants the best for you. Such hypocrite.)

Pregnancy thought? Unlikely. He’s too logical for that, he's looking for tangible symptoms. However, if he does think it, it’s because he wants to study the changes in your body up close.

(You woke up just to see his hand already inspecting your stomach.)

Anaxa: “We managed to put a baby in here huh. Don't you move, I'll take very good care of you.”

(You pushed him away soon after and refused to drink or eat anything from him.)

🐶 Phainon

His smile starts to fade when he heard the news. You have a minor fever?

(He barges into the room)

Phainon: “You're going to die? Don't leave me! I can't bear the thought of living all alone...”

(Lays you in bed dramatically like you’re on your deathbed.)

If you say it’s just a cold, he’ll be offended and insist that you need “proper royal treatment.”

(He tucked you in so tight you can't even move.)

Phainon: “I always know that you're not as strong as me, but I didn't expect you to be sick. I will feed you, every day, don't worry.”

Pregnancy thought? that’s not possible… unless…

(You tell him to calm down, but he ignores you, crouching beside your bed with a look of pure anguish.)

Phainon: “What if it’s something deadly? What if *gasp you’re with child?!? Whose? Mine?”

(You choke on your own saliva at his ridiculous assumption.)

Phainon: “Stay right here, I’ll summon someone immediately!”

(He rushes out before you can protest. You are doomed.)

🦁Mydei

At first, he just watches you suspiciously. When he realizes it’s real, he softens… a little.

He doesn’t fuss, but he becomes overbearing in a quiet way. He forces you to rest, doesn’t let you lift a single finger.

(Arms crossed, standing near the door, eyes narrowed as he watches you weakly sip your drink.)

Mydei: “If you’re too weak to hold a cup properly, you shouldn’t be holding it at all.”

(You glare at him, muttering that you can take care of yourself.)

Mydei: “Clearly.” (Sarcastic. He takes the cup from your hands and forces you to lie down.) “Rest.”

If you get worse, he just picks you up and hauls you off to a doctor, no questions asked.

He’ll be stubbornly glued to your side until you’re better.

Pregnancy thought? The possibility crosses his mind, but he immediately throws it out because he would’ve known if anything like that was possible.

When you're injured

🌿 Anaxa

He is completely unfazed. Even if you’re bleeding out, he will only act calm and professional while getting out his medical tools.

(Kneeling beside you, observing the wound with a calm, almost clinical expression.)

Anaxa: “Hm. A deep cut. The bleeding is slowing, but the damage is substantial.”

You swear he’s a doctor with how efficiently he patches you up—but he makes little effort to comfort you. Rather, he finds it interesting to mess with you.

(You wince as he prods at the wound. He doesn’t even warn you.)

Anaxa: “I expected better. Letting yourself get hurt like this… Have you always been so careless?”

(You glare at him.)

Anaxa: “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is your own fault, after all. Still, if I find out someone else dares hurt you... nevermind.”

🐶Phainon

Trying to hold back his anger, won't let it shows in front of you. You can only see his good side.

(His entire body is tense as he kneels beside you, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turn white.)

Phainon: “Who did this?”

(You try to downplay it, but his eyes still burning with fury.)

Once he’s calmed down, he scoops you up and takes you to the best healer available.

He’s genuinely shaken up by it and might get overly protective afterward. Even minor scrapes will have him wrapping you up in bandages like a mummy.

Phainon: “And once you’re healed, you are never leaving my sight again. I won’t allow it.”

🦁Mydei

He’s surprisingly calm when he sees you’re injured, but it’s the eerie kind of calm. He’s not saying much, but the rage is there.

He doesn’t panic, he assesses your wound like a warrior, checking the severity before deciding what to do.

(He crouches beside you, examining the wound with an eerily quiet intensity.)

Mydei: “You’re bleeding.”

(You bite back a sarcastic remark. He rips off a piece of his sleeve, pressing it against the wound with firm but careful hands.)

Mydei: “Does it hurt?”

(You hesitate. He looks at you, his sharp gaze unyielding.)

Mydei: “Good. Remember it.”

Two priorities:

Getting you treated.

Finding whoever did this and destroying them.

No more fights. No more risks. You are staying where he can see you.

(He finishes bandaging the wound, then stands, offering you his hand.)

Mydei: “Come. You’re not walking alone.”

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa #phainon x reader #phainon hsr

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persicipen · 2 days ago

Text

𑑛 “IMPULSE” ﾉ SUNDAY. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.5k ✘ master-servant but not in a kinky way. unless… sleeping with your boss. lowkey office romance. secret relationship. reader is a chambermaid. mentions of appearance — makeup, short dress, pantyhose. sunday has some controlling tendencies. overstimulation. crying from pleasure. cumming inside. petnames — angel, dove, sweetheart ﾉ rewritten ✘ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“I would prefer if you refrained from visiting me at this hour until further notice.” His voice is tired and unusually drags each syllable as if to prolong the time before uttering something he doesn’t actually want to say.

His divine silhouette of ashy whites and delicate plumes slumps on the armchair as he tries to regain at least an ounce of energy — futile, only making him more aware of the mental exhaustion of the passing day. His head still hurts, even though it has been going on for days now.

A few steps, and he notices a movement behind him, hands slowly unbuttoning the tight collar from around his neck and undressing him carefully in complete silence. A feather falling could have easily made more noise. The sigh he exhales is out of relief mixed with a dash of fatigue after sitting up properly. The soreness spreads along his body as you unwrap him from the layers of fine fabrics that hug him gently.

“Thank you.”

The only answer you deliver is a soft smile of appreciation towards his gesture.

He looks over your side to check if no one else is near his bedroom to listen, then pulls you by the arm across his lap, resting your foreheads together with his eyes shut. You two spend several seconds in silence, simply feeling each other’s breaths getting calmer and bodies relaxing with every moment shared like this. Your delicate fingers start moving up his chest slowly as if examining it for any anomalies; when finding none, you take it upon yourself to embrace him tighter in response.

On the contrary, Sunday caresses your head just above the scalp until eventually lifting your face with a finger under the chin. Your eyes meet halfway, burning with lust — unspoken since morning yet unsatisfied even during lunch break, where he tried relieving himself before taking a quick nap in bed.

He lets out a few weak chuckles, thinking about how hard he should try avoiding any contact today, not letting anyone suspect anything, before giving in to the impulse.

The taste of your lips leaves nothing behind except wanting more, despite knowing exactly how much it already affected you two — physically and psychologically alike.

“This is precisely why I requested you not to come here… I need to reclaim composure first, but with that exhaustion and your presence, it’s impossible.”

Your expression softens after hearing his confession, also catching his muscles relax; the grip loosens as you move away slightly from the position above his crotch. He rests against the velvet chair once more while trying to compose his thoughts after admitting a weakness towards something trivial and simple — in comparison to politics-related problems.

There were many reasons he couldn’t stop himself from continuing.

“Mr. Sunday, I’m here to help you with anything and everything. Just so you can rest enough to welcome another day with your mind at least slightly less troubled… alright?” you speak in hushed tones, voice calm but determined.

All traces of previous worry are wiped out as he exhales deeply before answering your question. He smiles again — tired but sincere.

“Yes.”

At this point the atmosphere shifts immediately once again, making things less serious than a moment ago between the two individuals, now more than just employer and employee. You resume by unbuttoning the shirt on his torso completely, revealing his pale skin underneath before pushing off the material completely to the sides.

With his chest exposed to cool air along with the robe sliding down onto his lower back, he leans forward, kissing your forehead.

A string of soft pecks going up from there along the bridge of the nose toward the mouth, leaving it just outside of reach, teasing you like this when you were sure he would continue straight away to your lips…

You shift nervously on his lap, overwhelmed with tension and his closeness, causing the entire scene to unfold right under your own gaze yet unable to do anything about it, too shy of the difference between your statuses.

Sunday knows how much power he holds over people… including you. Whenever you end up sitting on his legs for extended periods — especially lately since it’s been happening more frequently these past few months. A sight that brings immense pride to his heart. He continues his gentle assault by dabbing kisses across your eyelids, slowly one at a time, before lowering them all over your face, lingering there longer than usual each time around before reaching your earlobes once more for one last kiss.

A tingle shoots through your spine upon his warm breath, tickling your sensitive spots as he speaks next.

“Do you trust me?” the question itself seems harmless in contrast to how your body reacts whenever it’s spoken directly against your jaw; you shudder involuntarily after every word, goosebumps rising because of his sultry tone.

“Yes, absolutely…” Your response comes almost automatically. No hesitation, followed by his silent chuckle.

“And if I say that you should listen to what I command tonight, then what? Would you grant my every wish until tomorrow morning?”

As the intensity increases dramatically, you swallow the lump in your throat. Sunday’s body language is somewhat threatening, but at the same time so gentle and calming, unlike previous occasions when dealing with clients or rivals during negotiations… It’s inviting you, luring you into his open arms.

“W-what do you wish me to do, then?”

His hand reaches to cup your face, turning towards himself for one more look before taking advantage of an opportunity presenting itself before his very eyes — he captures your mouth after closing the distance between them quickly.

Your eyes widen momentarily while struggling against the sudden surge of electricity coursing throughout your body while feeling completely trapped when he cuddles you by your waist. He nibbles with care at your bottom lip before biting, teeth scraping over it.

There is a certain taste in his saliva; bittersweet yet addictive as it mixes inside your mouth. Unable to protest when his hands sneak behind you to hook the short dress up enough to grip the softness of your ass firmly. He uses force on your rear to rub up against his cock harder than moments before as you find yourself losing grip on reality until it hits that you won’t escape anymore… You will spend the rest of the night fulfilling his desires.

After all those years in his service, you learnt to submit quickly — but you wanted nothing else more than this, either.

After you separate from each other, panting hard, Sunday cups your face one last time before whispering into your ear.

“You’ve always done the best job helping me cope with stress in such wonderful ways.”

A compliment given so sincerely contrasts with his fingers dipping from behind just to tap your pussy through the sheer fabric of your pantyhose, making you jolt back, startled as you grab tightly onto his shoulders, whimpering softly as heat rushes across your cheeks.

“M— Sunday, ah…”

Before you even realise, he’s already grabbing the nylon and tearing it apart, ripping down along the seams with ease. Then he places a finger right at the top of your heated folds. He drags through them back and forth without applying any pressure whatsoever, causing your insides to convulse with excitement. Your legs tremble on each side of his hips, dragging your weight against his clothed erection that still hides beneath grey slacks; bodies locked together while the fabric becomes damp in an instant.

He laughs huskily as you look down in shame between your bodies — an attempt to hide your face away from his gaze while biting back moan after moan. Before reaching up underneath the dress, Sunday moves his hand away, brushing his fingertips across smooth skin. To your surprised gasp, his touch lands upon your clit, pressing there to spread tingles in small circles around the sensitive pearl.

“Open my trousers in the meantime. Touch me first, just for a while, and then ride me, okay, dove? Let’s continue from there.”

You fumble with the zip, drawing it down to reveal his needy cock despite trembling fingers. He guides you to grab the shaft between thumb and index finger, sliding up and down smoothly even with pre dribbling down already. You two synchronise your motions after a while.

“See, isn’t this much better for us both?”

You nod weakly, eyes rolling back as he slips easily into your slick entrance. The sounds of squelching are soon replaced with rhythmic slaps from below each time you sit down, bouncing atop his length. Your walls are wet, swollen, squeezing every inch out as you buck yourself up until only the tip remains inside, forcing breathy sighs from him each time you connect with him again.

“Just like that, angel, just like that,” he guides you whilst gripping your hips forcibly. He knows exactly what makes you two crazy, but he enjoys pushing the limits of your patience to the breaking point until nothing else can be done except him taking the initiative. “Ah… hold it right there. Yes, perfect.”

His back arches deliciously every time you stop for a second because it’s too much to handle.

It’s unbelievable how much your dishevelled state can affect him when he usually tries keeping his emotions in check — never letting anyone see through any cracks even if one did appear, no matter how insignificant it appeared on the surface. But the fact of having you in complete obedience on his own lap, whining and shaking from the pleasure he is providing — it’s exhilarating.

The sensation of your warmth wrapping snuggly around him entirely brings him the utmost satisfaction. To see you lost in bliss, caused exclusively by him alone, is a delight on its own.

Sunday’s thoughts go rampant at times like these. The logical part screaming inside his brain to stop, saying this shouldn’t happen with an employee working under him… however, every instinct tells otherwise as you dwell on pleasure, trying your best to not disappoint him with the faltering tempo. There is no break between bounces, and just like a puppet on strings, he pulls the strands leading your body towards the release desperately needed since your last meeting.

His fingers dig deeply into the flesh of your butt, making sure that nails don’t graze the skin too much. You deserve much more than a mere slap or spanking session; you deserve proper treatment, especially now after showing how willing you are to serve him.

So he picks up the pace himself, holding onto you and guiding every single move effortlessly, even in this awkward position where you’re forced to cling to him like a lifeline. Your lips clash in frenzied kisses until the air runs out, but he refuses to relent, drinking every bit of saliva dripping out of your mouth and tasting sweat mixed along with it as you struggle to keep composure.

“Please! Please, Sunday, it’s too much…”

Your fingers claw into his shirt, leaving red irritated marks behind. Nevertheless, he grins smugly with one last stroke upwards, causing your pussy to squeeze tight against the base again while feeling tremors passing throughout the core before stopping altogether. He lowers your body in one quick movement, sitting you right on his cock until your orgasm subsides.

He exhales, burying his head in the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly all over. You stay tense for a long while, simply melting in his arms, completely spent. Slowly regenerating strength as he strokes your hair, soothing aching muscles until you relax again.

“That’s right, dove. I love it when you do it… just for me to see. Can you take some more? Please, at least until I finish, too?” Sunday murmurs tenderly between each peck pressed across your jawline.

You hum lazily, nodding again, albeit somewhat reluctantly compared to the previous agreement, but consenting enthusiastically enough.

He starts moving slowly, drawing slow circles inside your pussy.

“Yes, yes, like that…” you respond, leaning more on him with each thrust. He nibbles your neck lightly as a reward for such positive reactions.

As minutes tick away, he gets impatient once again. Your hands tighten around his open shirt, pulling him close enough to bite and lick every piece of skin visible. The amount of pleasure building inside becomes almost unbearable as he drives you insane, forcing you to accept how weak you feel at this moment.

You shudder from head to toe when his fingertips brush along the sides, causing the whole body to tense up. Hearing your whimpers, he hushes you lovingly.

“I know you can. Just one last push. Come on.”

And so he does… not stopping.

He pounds ruthlessly into your soaked cunt until there’s no more air left inside your lungs as you pant frantically while trying to not collapse right away; bodies locked together intimately, your hands desperately grabbing onto shoulders until knuckles turn white from the strain. He’s doing the same around your hips, using a soft force to press every single inch of flesh against flesh.

“There you go, sweetheart, you can do it. You’re almost there… Just one more second.”

With that sentence said, Sunday flips your body forward and lies back comfortably in the chair, shifting you up and down a few inches until he finds the ideal angle. He pulls your hips down hard on his cock as he slams his pelvis upwards at the same time, causing loud moans to erupt from your throat along with high-pitched noises.

Tears begin to stream freely, trickling off your chin with each rough thrust while rubbing sensitive spots that leave you writhing, desperately trying to hold off any sort of response. The urge to let it all go builds stronger as he continues the incessant rhythm with barely enough pause between strokes to let you breathe before diving right back in again.

He groans loudly before ramming into your pussy again and again. Until he eventually clears the pent-up frustration, cumming rope after rope into your fluttering heat.

This triggers the follow-up from your side, reaching a peak soon after him. Your muscles contract erratically while remaining frozen above him, eyes squeezed shut tightly as you wail throughout the release, bucking hips on him, milking his cock out of every drop. You feel his cum coating your core, making everything throb and slip inside; every little goosebump on your skin burning.

By the end of it all, you fall motionless upon his chest; completely exhausted yet fulfilled, and still leaking from his twitching shaft, which softens gradually within the depths of your body. Sunday peppers kisses around your neck after cradling your tired form.

“Well done, my sweet dove. I’m proud of you for staying with me through it all.” He whispers before gently wiping away your tears and removing all traces of makeup from your cheeks.

The gesture feels natural, as if he’d been doing it all the time in secret before this point.

#writing.#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday smut

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azsazz · 2 days ago

Text

Infest (Part 2)

Stalker!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is on assignment to watch over you. He really really likes you.

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of guns.

Word Count: 2,116

(Part One)

_________________________________________

You’re sound asleep, and Azriel’s never felt more awake.

It’s been an hour and sixteen minutes since you stumbled back home without a care for your surroundings and your phone falling halfway out of your purse.

Azriel kept his distance, as he always does. As he was told to do. He’s always been a good soldier. Never gone rouge. Never abandoned a soldier even when he maybe should have. His finger has never slipped from the trigger.

There’s something about you that makes him want to, though. Remove his finger from the trigger just to run it down the slope of your jaw, tuck that piece of hair back behind your ear that falls dangerously close to your soft, parted lips.

You barely made it home. Barely made it out of your costume that sits in a crumpled pile on the floor, heels kicked off in two different directions and red cape draped over one of the posters of your bed. He can hear the snores of your friend Cassian from the living room, each rumble of his chest grates on his ears, the serenity he usually has when he stands at the foot of your bed and watches you sleep.

Cassian is a fly buzzing in his ear, is what he is. He could barely hold himself up better than you, and he wasn’t in seven-inch platform heels that looked as heavy as cinder blocks. Azriel wondered if he was going to have to scrape you off the sidewalk if your friend tripped and took you down. At least his mission would most likely be over.

But there’s something about spending his days and nights watching over you, waiting for the inevitable other shoe—heel—to drop, that keeps his head screwed on straight, keeps him calm. Keeps him ready.

His eyes trail your body again. Arm folded up beneath your pillow, the other resting over your side. The fabric of your sheets draped barely over that sinful red bow tied at the waistband of your panties. The oversized shirt you managed to wrangle yourself into hides the curve of your breast, the smooth skin of your stomach and shoulders that he wants to sink his teeth into to taste.

You didn’t have it in yourself to scrub the makeup from your face. After a pit stop at the local late night pizza joint with your friends, you parted with Cassian in tow, bright-eyed and giggling about your favorite rom-com you were going to force him to watch. Your favorite. You’ve watched it nine and a half times since Azriel started assignment.

If he never hears Matthew McConaughey’s voice again it will be too soon.

He stays by his spot at the end of your bed. Watching. Never touching. He hasn’t even lain himself upon your cozy looking comforter, the one scrunched between your legs right now, hasn’t slipped between the sheets and held you to the mattress like he’s thought about.

There will be time for that.

You shift, murmuring something incoherent beneath your breath, and roll, taking the silky sheets with you. Azriel watches for a long moment, counts in his head the time it takes you to sigh, for your shoulders to ease as you fall back into that heavy slumber.

He strolls lightly to the window, dodging abandoned jeans, a yoga mat that he’s never seen you unroll, but he uses when you’re otherwise occupied. There’s a pair of well-worn slippers that he avoids, along with a shoebox stuffed with photos you dug out of your closet and never put away.

Your apartment is lived in. Azriel’s not sure he can remember a time where he had things that would clutter his room. His life has been hospital corners on beds and a gun tucked under his pillow. Fully geared up while he slept on the cold, hard ground. Leaning up against a wall with a gun cradled to his chest. He would never have photos or trinkets that could compromise him, not that he has anyone nor anything that could be used against him. He is a solid, steel trap of apathy.

A void.

The sky is dark with cloud cover, no moon in sight. He scans the skyscrapers that surround your apartment, searching for any signs of movement. It brings him back to his time in the military, scoping out perimeters, keeping an eye out for snipers. He hates the location of your apartment. Anyone in a higher level could peer into your open windows, because you always forget to close your curtains. If there were anyone like him out there, you’d already be dead.

Motion in the corner of his vision rips his gaze to the boulevard. Streetlights line the street, the second one from the corner flickers, going dark for one long second, and when it bursts back to its short-lived brightness, a figure stands below it.

Azriel recognizes the body in point one seconds flat.

His jaw grinds as he examines the figure. Arms crossed over his chest, sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. One leg crossed over the other as he leans casually against the pole. He’s sure there’s a satisfied smirk on the pricks face, knowing that Azriel has clocked him in an instant, and is already making his way to the door like the well-trained hound he is.

It's easy to skirt the hibernating giant on your couch. Azriel shoots him a dirty look on the way out, just because he can. He reaches behind into the waistband of his pants, palming his pistol, the metal of the weapon a comfort against his hand.

He takes the stairs, never the elevator. Shoves his way out of the lobby door and scans the street quickly. Not a car in sight, not another soul besides the one still lounging beneath the light. If he had a soul, Azriel might be surprised.

The closer he gets, the wider that foxlike smile grows. The harsh, yellow glow makes his teeth look sharp. Amber eyes glow like hot coals as Azriel approaches, halting just outside the ring of light.

Azriel doesn’t start the conversation. He never does. He gets his assignments, makes his reports, and finishes the job. He doesn’t ask questions, and his boss doesn’t question him.

So, what the fuck is Eris doing here?

There’s a reason his boss chose Azriel for this particular assignment, because Eris would have already thrown a bag over your head and tossed you into the back of the sleek, black SUV parked at the corner and towed you back to the mansion. Azriel isn’t Eris, doesn’t think they share a single trait, and he’s never been grateful about anything in his life, but he sure is about that.

Eris’ eyes flicker to your apartment window and if it were possible, Azriel would still. He’s well-trained. He keeps still. Doesn’t let a sliver of the white-hot rage that flashes through his body reach the surface, even when Eris’ gaze seeps that familiar glimmer of wickedness.

“What were you doing up there?” His voice is silky, a prowl almost. He quirks a brow, and it’s always been his mission to try to get Azriel to crack. Not once has his little jibes worked. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch from your car?”

Azriel doesn’t respond, only stares at Eris.

If only he could unleash a bullet from the chamber and empty it in his pompous face.

Following a long beat, Eris releases an impatient exhale. He rolls his eyes so hard that it’s a surprise they don’t stick. A glimmer of pride builds into nothing more than a whisper of a hair dragging across Azriel’s skin. He plucks it away easily; lets it float away with the gentle breeze.

“It’s been over a month. Boss is getting antsy.”

Boss. As if it isn’t his father that’s one of the most powerful mafia dons on the east coast. As if he’s not his son.

“She hasn’t shown any signs of knowing,” Azriel gives him this. The same seven words the reports he’s sent back to his boss every week has contained.

“Maybe she knows you’re following her.”

Azriel’s features sharpen in the darkness. Hazel eyes narrowing a fraction. Muscle of his jaw popping. Lips thinning a hairsbreadth.

“She doesn’t know,” he refutes, tone monotonous. “She doesn’t know anything.” Not about him, not about the world he lives in, not about herself.

He’s beginning to think that this mission is a lost cause. That you’re not the girl they’re looking for. Azriel doesn’t give up on missions, he sees them through, and he’ll wait as long as he has to, as long as he’s told. It’s not like it’s a hardship watching over someone so pretty.

“You can’t tell me she’s flown under the radar for this long without slipping up,” Eris exhales in frustration, shoving himself from the lamp post. So quick to anger. If Azriel knew anything about choosing an heir to a mafia empire, Eris would not be the next in line. He wouldn’t even be fourth in line, the pretentious asshole.

But Azriel is just a soldier, a mercenary at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Perhaps it was the right place at the right time.

“Read my reports. They’ll tell you all you need to know.” Azriel beings to turn to head back to his post. He’s been gone for just over six minutes now, and he knows better than anyone how much can happen in such a short period of time.

As always, Eris opens his fucking mouth. “Your reports don’t say shit. One might think that you’re sleeping with her for Mothers—” He doesn’t see it coming. Doesn’t have the chance to get the last word out of his mouth before the muzzle of Azriel’s pistol is pinning his jaw shut.

“Want to say that again?” Azriel asks, voice gruff. He’s not fucking around. He never does. His hands aren’t trembling like Eris is in his grip. His finger is poised, steady on the trigger, waiting for the moment to pull.

He doesn’t care that he’s aiming a gun to his don’s son. Doesn’t give a fuck if Eris runs right home to tell daddy what he’s done. It’s not the first time Azriel has pulled a gun on the impatient heir, and it isn’t the last.

Right now, Eris is a compromise to his mission. You don’t leave his sight, yet he had to leave his watch post in order to entertain the amber-eyed fool that glares up at him. Fucking idiot.

Not even the harsh metal of Eris’ gun digging into the flesh just above Azriel’s hipbone does anything to strike fear into him. He’s felt worse.

“Get…the fuck off me, man,” Eris bites, carefully so he doesn’t trigger whatever hairline tripwire Azriel lives on. He’s a fucking psycho. Which is probably why his father employs the ex-military man.

Azriel’s credentials never fucking lie. He wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse if he pulled the trigger right now. Boss has six other sons, even if most of them don’t show any promise to take over the family business.

Well, maybe one. Azriel always keeps an eye on that one.

“Get the fuck out of here, Eris,” Azriel says, deathly calm. He releases the auburn-haired man who stumbles back like Azriel pushed him. “If you compromise my mission again, you won’t be so lucky.”

“Fuck you,” Eris spits. His gun is clutched tightly in his grip, white-knuckled. He won’t use it. Azriel wouldn’t be surprised if he’s never killed a person a day in his life. Privileged in a fucked-up world, but privileged nonetheless. Eris takes another step back, the darkness of the city block draping his shoulders in black. The familiar blacked-out SUV screeches to a halt at the curb. Azriel knows who’s driving, who sits passenger, and the number of guns pointed in his direction. Eris’ hand lands on the handle, he tosses one, final scathing look over his shoulder, pinning Azriel with the harshest look he can muster. It’s all for naught, since it doesn’t affect Azriel in the slightest. “He won’t wait forever, you know,” he spits, and climbs into the van.

Azriel watches the vehicle take off down the street before the door even closes behind Eris. The engine revs, and whoever is driving blows right through the stop sign.

Azriel watches until the taillights disappear from view, and then some, before he tucks his gun back into the waistband of his pants and treks his way back to your apartment.

He’ll wait however goddamn long Azriel wants him to wait.

_________________________________________

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @ushijima-stits @peaceandcrackers @sveretrice

#azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel/reader #stalker!azriel #dark romance!azriel #azriel fanfiction #modern!azriel au

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revelboo · 15 hours ago

Note

revel, i am bowing down before your feet, asking so very nicely for scavengers content...

Sure!

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 19

Scavengers x Reader

• “Spin treat you right?” Misfire asks as Spinister shifts against you, sitting up. And you’re painfully aware that Spin had chucked your clothes over the edge of the berth as you squirm upright, twisting so your back is to Misfire. Watching the Seeker over your shoulder when he goes over to the Medbay sink, back to you and wings up as the water runs. Spin leans to brush his jaw against the top of your head before he’s mass shifting and going after the energon. Watching him drink, you almost shriek when Misfire hook a servo against your thigh and turns you.

• Head lifting on an uncertain growl when Misfire slides a damp cloth between your thighs and you smack his hand, Spin reaches to pin his friend’s hand flat to the Medbay berth, rotor blades flicking. “Don’t.” Letting go of the cloth and holding up his hands in surrender, Spin turns his attention back to you, taking over cleaning up his mess as you just groan and lay your head against his hands.

• “Hey, didn’t mean to overstep, big guy,” Misfire says and he’s grinning when you turn your head to scowl at him. Head tipped to watch Spin drape the cloth over a servo and stroke it against you despite your efforts to shove him away because Misfire is still watching. “I’m just trying to help care for our little human.” You don’t buy that for a minute. “I mean, you heard Swindle. Humans have needs. What if you’re off the ship and Tiny goes into heat, hurting for a spike and you’re not there? I’d hate them to suffer.” Is he serious? ‘Humans don’t go into-’ you begin and Misfire presses a servo against your mouth as Spin hesitates.

• “You know, us Scavengers, we’re brothers really. Right?” Misfire grins as you shove at his servo, his head tipping when Spin removes the cloth. And you immediately try to cover yourself with your hands. “We share everything. Weapons. Engex. It’s only natural we’d share caring for Tiny here.” Hears your little exasperated huff, but Spin is listening. Or at least, doing a lot of serious frowning. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s going on in that damaged processor. “You want Tiny fully under all of our protection, right?”

• Misfire is using the voice. Knows that voice. It’s the one that talks him into things that usually upset Krok. But he does want you safe. You’re the most important thing to him right now. A bit of calm in the confusion of his processor. “Right,” he mutters as Misfire removes his servo and you smack him again. Because it sounds reasonable when Misfire says it. Like it’s foregone that they’d share you. You’re one of them.

• Nose scrunching to tell Misfire off, his optics dip and you tuck your thighs together, twisting so you’re not just on display. And hating that you like the way he looks at you. Fulcrum had been curious and embarrassed, but Misfire is just interested. It’s not like anything can come of anything between you and them except some harmless pleasure. Something you desperately need amid all the chaos you’ve been drowning in since ending up on that dead world. And it’s not like there are any repercussions if you did get to spend time with all of them. So you keep your mouth shut kind of hating your greedy little self.

I figure out the story as I go with these, so they act like my drafts. Not every story will go that way, but I don’t really know which ones will until I get there if that makes sense.

#transformers x reader #scavengers x reader #idw fulcrum #idw misfire #idw krok #idw spinister #idw crankcase

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suzukiblu · 1 day ago

Text

Fifth ( and final! ) 1k of the thank-you 5k I promised y'all behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon hurls his barely-off jacket out of the Super-Cycle and across the garage to hit the wall without even looking, without even making any actual decision to, and then nearly bursts into tears again like a fucking idiot. Idiot. Stupid, stupid, stu–

He doesn’t know if the others would care about him borrowing their scents for his nest, but he already–he already knows–

Superman told him to go be with his pack.

Told him to go.

And “El” isn’t Superman’s pack name. So–so Superman definitely, definitely doesn’t wanna be in his nest. Not even as just as a blocker-muddled trace of scent.

Kon doesn’t–doesn’t need another stupid pillow anyway. Even if it’s his stupid jacket.

He grabs Red Tornado’s cape again and unrolls it, then drapes it over the side of the Super-Cycle’ nesting pit, and then wants to cry even worse because he hates how it looks like that. Folds it up square instead, and then doesn’t like how that looks either and shakes it back out and then rolls it up again but that’s not good enough either so he shakes it out and–

He wishes he could put his jacket in his nest. He–he likes his jacket.

Superman wouldn’t want him to, though. Not as long as it smells even a little bit like him, anyway.

Kon just–just buries himself against the pillows he’s already folded and curls down in on himself and drags Red Tornado’s cape halfway over his head and wraps his arms over it and makes himself as small as he can in against them and–and–

He thinks he’s gonna sob, but what actually happens is–is–

He keens, is what actually happens. Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose. Definitely not.

Keens an omega call. An omega call for . . . for their pack.

So–no, it’s not on purpose. Kon’s fucking stupid, yeah, but not–not stupid enough to have done any shit like that on purpose.

But once he’s done it, it feels like he can’t stop doing it.

Kon shoves his own fist in-between his teeth and digs them in hard through his glove and against the bones of his knuckles and tries desperately to just sob, to just cry, to–to–to at least muffle the stupid–the stupid keening, the stupid calling, to–to–he doesn’t want anyone to hear that, that’s so pathetic and stupid and pathetic, a stupid useless stray calling for a pack he’s never even had like he–like he’s stupid enough to think–think that–and he doesn’t want anyone to ever, ever know he’s that pathetic, that stupid, that–

The Super-Cycle’s engine rumbles in a purr so loud it drowns out Kon’s stifled keening completely, and he buries himself in tighter against the folded pillows that smell like the team and tightens his grip on Red Tornado’s cape that smells like him and hides under–hides under it, and tries not to cry too hard.

And doesn’t wish he had his fucking jacket.

“Th-thanks,” he chokes, his voice cracking. He doesn’t even know if the Super-Cycle did that on purpose or not, but . . . “Thanks. Sorry, I–I just–thank you.”

The Super-Cycle keeps purring away, and without having to freak out about the chances of anybody hearing him doing something so fucking embarrassing, Kon manages to calm down enough to stop–stop the fucking calling, at least, and then stop the sobbing, and then even stop the crying. It takes a little bit, but . . . but he manages it. Red Tornado hasn’t come back yet, so that’s . . . some fucking mercy, anyway.

A lot of fucking mercy, honestly.

He feels really stupid, still, but the Super-Cycle’s being . . . being really nice to him. Like–way nicer than it has to be. Especially since it likes Robin and Bart both way better than him and probably all the girls too. But like, especially Robin and Bart. Which, sure, way to be grateful for a guy breaking you out of the dig site with his badass custom-designed TTK, but–

Well. If the Super-Cycle’s doing this for him, maybe it likes him more than he thought it did.

Kon sniffles a couple more times, then scrubs the last of the tears off with the heel of his glove and sits back up to roll up Red Tornado’s cape again. The rolled-up pillow really was the best option, he thinks. Like–most cushioning and all to it. So like–best option, yeah.

So he rolls it up again, tucks in the ends again, and puts it back against the side of the nesting pit opposite all his other makeshift pillows. The roll and the tuck are both a little neater-looking now, actually, so . . . that’s good, he thinks. Maybe he’s gettin’ the hang of nesting, a little bit.

Maybe he won’t suck at it, if he practices a little more. Even if he didn’t, like–get to do it before he presented or anything. Like, maybe he could be . . . okay at it, he thinks.

Kon watches the video again for a refresher on the tips in it and for ideas for what to do with whatever else Red Tornado’s gonna bring. He figures it’ll just be, like, a couple blankets or maybe a stack of towels or something, so probably he’ll just fold ‘em up the same ways he did with either Cissie’s towel or Red Tornado’s cape, ‘cuz he already knows how to do those folds and it’s, like–it’s good practice, right? Because . . . because he’ll be doing this again. Like . . . a lot.

He’ll be doing this the whole friggin’ rest of his life, and nobody can tell him he’s not allowed to even if they do think he’s, like, a bad omega or a slut or whatever. He’s still an omega either way. He’s still allowed, either way.

Even if he’s not in anyone’s pack, at least he doesn’t have to smell anything like Westfield. Doesn’t have to be anything like Westfield.

Doesn’t even have to be an alpha, which . . . he really hadn’t thought he was gonna get out of having to be an alpha. Really hadn’t thought . . .

He just–hadn’t thought he was gonna get out of having to be an alpha, he guesses.

But he did.

Kon sniffles one more time; scrubs the cuff of his glove across his face one more time. Lets himself just feel–just feel all the weird, giddy relief, one more time. Then he focuses again and starts rearranging all his makeshift pillows, because if Suzie actually does come, he really, really has to have a nice nest ready for, like . . .

He just–Kon really needs to have a nice nest ready, he knows, though he’s not really sure . . . why, exactly? Like, now that he’s thinking about it. Like . . . he doesn’t know why he feels so much like he just really needs to have it.

He definitely does, though. Like–definitely feels like he needs it, and definitely also does need it.

. . . he hopes Suzie’ll like it, if he actually does manage to do an okay job. He hopes if she likes it enough, she’ll stick around for a little while and, like . . . watch some of those videos with him or something, or just stream something on his phone with him, or just hang out or talk or . . .

He hopes if she likes it enough, she’ll get in it with him. Which–it feels kind of dumb, Kon thinks, how much he hopes that, but . . . yeah. He hopes she will, at least for a little bit. Maybe she’d feel safe in it too.

He just . . . he thinks he’d really like it if she would, is all.

#kon el #conner kent #superboy #young just us #young justice #wip: yj packs up and gets pupped #omegaverse

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ishasturnz · 1 day ago

Text

Cookies ‘n Head

based off this post @sunrisemill and this fic.

contains: porn with plot, counter head?, some fluff, i think thats it, male receiving.

Bsf!Reader x bsf!Chris

authors note: it took me like an hour to figure out a plot just for this because i wanna spoil you guys. Also click on the first message to see the full thing. And RUSHED and maybe a part 2.

wc: 579

character count: 2635

4:36

My car started to pull into his driveway, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling my nose slightly making me lightheaded.

I parked and stepped out of the drivers seat and headed to the front door. Before I could even knock the door swung open revealing a very excited Chris.

“Thank you! thank you! thank you!” He squealed like a girl before attempting to take the white box away.

“Hey! Calm down, you get fed every day I think you’ll be fine without COOKIES for a few seconds.”

5:48

“Can I eat them now?” Chris persistently asked repeatedly like a child. “Okay go ahead and eat some since you want them so badly.”

I grabbed one for myself since I was a bit hungry since I didn't eat lunch.

I took a small bite of the soft food, Chris just stared at my lips the whole time.

Noticing how plump my lips were, how smooth my brown skin was, but his thoughts shifted from something else.

And wasn't appropriate once so ever.

“Chris dude, are you even gonna eat the cookies? I’m only saving them because I want you to have some, secondly, I’m hungry too” My voice chose to get a slight attitude and sassiness added into it.

“Well first off lose the fucking attitude, secondly, M’not hungry. Not for food at least.” His accent started to slip out slowly the deeper his voice got.

“Okay, then what are you hungry for? Because you’re not the only one hungry. But I’m hungry for food so what do you wanna eat then?” I started to slowly get hangry and sassier by the second.

“I got something that’ll make you full.” Those were his last words before I somehow ended up on my knees in front of him.

6:09

"y-yeah—shiit, juuust like tha--mmpfh-ah," Chris’s head fell back against the white cabinet behind him.

His rough hands pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding my movements as I continued sucking him off.

His eyes hooded, making it seem like they’ve rolled back completely. His hips started to buck into my mouth making the tip of his oversized cock nudging against the back of my throat making me continuously gag around him.

The noise of gargling filled the entire kitchen "fuuuck, I’m right there, just... just—shit," he groaned out loud.

Hot tears spilled down my face as he continued to face-fuck me. Until the tight coil in his lower stomach started getting tighter and tighter by the second.

and his climax hit him hard, his whole body shuddering, hips twitching into your mouth uncontrollably.

his hips twitching almost involuntarily as he spilled deep down your throat, he held your head down by the makeshift ponytail to make sure you swallowed all of his sticky release a quiet moan left his mouth “..Shittt…”.

6:40

I wiped the corners of my mouth getting rid of access cum and licking it off my thumb. “You should drink more water or something chris— your cum tastes like ass.” My tone playful but I wasn’t joking at all.

“Yeah I don’t think now’s the best time to mention that.” Chris spoke while catching his breath yet munching on one of the soft cookies.

“Yeah sure buddy” I paused before speaking again, “Also who knew Christopher Sturniolo whimpers, more blackmail for me”

“Oh fuck you Y/n.” He uttered with a mouthful of chewed-up cookies in his mouth.

“I mean you can if you want to, I’m not saying no.”

taglist: @tezzzzzzzz @chrepsi @angvl3tears @theylovedemi @sturnshood @sturnberries @sturniologirlzz @muwapsturniolo @dykes4chris @chrisisadilf @chrissturniolossidebitch @baileysturnz @slut4christopherr @slxt4chriss @slvtf0rchr1s @slxtarchive @raesturns @hjvi @starkeyszn @audreyscave @lailasnight @sturns-mermaid @ikyoudreamofme @sturnsmadl @ohmanareyoucereal9 @sossturn @blushsturns @rcklessheavn @55sturn @phone4pills @cupiidk1lls @bsturnzmtts @wh0remikasas @sfoiasturn @trevorsgodmother @bluestriips

MASTERLIST

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris x y/n #matt x reader #chris sturniolo blurb #chris fic #sturniolo smut #smut #the sturniolo triplets #nate doe #nathan doe

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heartsriki · 12 hours ago

Text

CUPID'S CHAOS ⌇화살

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Lee Heeseung | next

pairing ᝰ heeseung x fem!reader

— featuring.. n/a | word count: 4k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au, fluff, bickering, misunderstandings, obliviousness, 2000’s rom com vibe, kisses, pet name use (?), reader is a writer!

synopsis — You accidentally become the campus’s cupid, delivering love letters to everyone— no exception to the one meant for Heeseung even though you had the biggest crush on him. When he asks for help finding his secret admirer, You scramble to keep your own feelings hidden… until you realize that love letter was your own.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I’m not sure if I like this but… I hope you guys do… guys fair warning these oneshots will be extremely corny and fluffy but its valentines month so i cant control it fr! MY FIRST HEESEUNG FIC WHO CHEERED, also happy birthday jw my baby :(

Seriously just what did you get yourself into?

The first incident or “love letter” arrived onto your doorstep on a random Wednesday. It was just a soft pink envelope sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. At first, you thought it was for you until you saw the name of the girl in your english class. Maybe someone had the wrong dorm number. But when another letter shows up the next day, and then another, you start to realize two things:

1. Someone on campus has a serious crush problem.

2. You have somehow become their personal delivery service.

By Friday, you had a whole collection of letters meant for people you barely know. With no better plan, you start slipping them into the correct mailbox, dropping them onto desks, and handing them off with a whispered, “This is for you.”

Before you know it, people started calling you the ‘Campus Cupid’.

It’s kind of fun—watching couples get together, seeing people’s eyes light up when they read something sweet. That is, until you find his letter.

Lee Heeseungs letter. The guy with the lazy smile and unfairly good hair. The guy who always seems to be exactly where you don’t need him to be. The guy you have been crushing on way more than you meant to.

It was no surprise that he would get sent a letter. He was the darling of the campus, he was a charmer, talented in sports and without a doubt extremely handsome.

You examined the letter. It was morally right to give it to him… right?

Frowning, you place the letter in his usual seat. Just because you liked him didn’t mean you can take his right of knowing that someone else does.

The day passes without you thinking too much about the letter you placed on Heeseung’s desk. Or at least, you try not to think about it. It’s not like it matters, right? Someone else likes him. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But then, right after your afternoon lecture, Heeseung finds you outside the lecture hall, love letter in hand.

“Hey, Cupid.” His voice is casual, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He holds up the letter between two fingers. “Any idea who wrote this?”

Your heart stops.

You stare at the letter, forcing yourself to keep calm. You knew this would happen. Of course, Heeseung would be curious. You should just tell him you don’t know. That’s what you should do.

But something about the way he’s looking at you makes you hesitate.

Frowning, you take the letter from his hands, pretending to examine it like if you hadn’t stared at it for hours before handing it to him. But when you open it and your eyes scan the page, confusion settles in.

There’s no name. No initials. Nothing.

That’s strange. Most of the letters you’ve delivered always had at least a tiny clue. An initial, a signature, sometimes even a number with a name.

“What’s with that look? You must’ve seen who gave it to you, no?” Heeseung asks, raising a brow.

You look back at the letter, skimming over the heart felt words. It was weird intruding someone’s feelings like this but with Heeseungs intense stare you couldn’t say no. The letter said:

I don’t know when it started, but you’ve always been there. In the background, in the crowd, just close enough to notice, but never close enough to reach. It’s frustrating, liking someone like this. Sometimes I wish I never met you in that cafe because now you’re all I ever think about, I hope I can confront you someday.

Your stomach twists.

The handwriting. The way certain letters are slanted. The way some words are scratched out and rewritten.

It’s… familiar.

Too familiar.

Your breath catches.

Oh.

Oh no.

It was yours.

See, the first time you met Heeseung, it wasn’t in a lecture hall or at some college party—it was at a small cafe just off campus, the kind of place students flocked to for overpriced lattes and last-minute study sessions.

You had been there first, tucked into a corner seat with your laptop open and a half-empty cup of coffee beside you. The cafe was packed, the usual rush of students scrambling for caffeine before their next class, and you were too focused on your work to notice him walk in.

That is, until you heard a voice—smooth, slightly out of breath—directed at you.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, and that was the first time you saw Lee Heeseung up close.

Messy brown hair, a hoodie thrown over a plain t-shirt, dark eyes filled with something playful yet sleepy at the same time. You recognized him vaguely—he was in one of your general electives, though he always sat near the back, half-hidden behind his laptop. He was the kind of guy people noticed without him even trying, whether it was because of his reputation on the basketball team or just the effortless way he carried himself.

And now, he was standing in front of you, waiting for an answer.

You blinked. “Oh, um—no, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, sliding into the chair across from you. He set down his coffee cup, then pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages lazily. “You’re in my media studies class, right?”

You hadn’t expected him to recognize you, much less strike up a conversation.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I sit near the front.”

“Right, that’s why I never see you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I usually get there late.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

For some reason, that seemed to amuse him. Heeseung leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his notebook. “So, what’s got you looking so serious? Studying for something?”

You glanced at your laptop screen. “Not exactly. Just… trying to finish an article for the campus paper.”

That caught his interest. “You write for the paper?”

“Kind of. It’s just an opinion column. Nothing major.”

Heeseung tilted his head, considering. “I’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe I’ll learn something.”

You rolled your eyes, but you could feel your face growing warm. Heeseung had this way of making everything sound lighthearted, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—like he actually meant it—that made your stomach flip.

You didn’t know it then, but that moment—him sitting across from you in a crowded cafe, lazily flipping through his notes while keeping light conversations, smiling at you like you were the only person worth paying attention to—that was the moment it started.

The quiet, unshakable feeling of a new beginning forming.

You blink rapidly, snapping back to reality, only to find Heeseung staring at you with a curious tilt of his head.

“You good?” He waves a hand in front of your face, and you realize you’ve been gripping the letter like it personally offended you.

“Yeah!” You blurt out, a little too quickly. “Fine. Super fine.”

Heeseung narrows his eyes, but instead of questioning your suspicious expressions, he leans against the wall next to you, arms crossed, the picture of casual confidence. “So? Any idea who my secret admirer is?”

Your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

Yeah, actually, it’s me. Surprise!

Obviously, you can’t say that.

You force a laugh, shoving the letter back into his hands like it’s a ticking time bomb. “No clue! There are so many love letters I deal with around campus, you know? Could be anyone.”

Heeseung mockingly pouted. “Come on, Cupid. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

You freeze. Oh no.

Heeseung grins, nudging your arm playfully. “Please? be my lead detective I need to know who has this much of a crush on me.”

You stare at him, trying not to look as horrified as you feel. He’s practically pleading, eyes shining with excitement. He wants to know. He’s curious.

And you?

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

But instead, you swallow down your panic and give him your most confident, totally-not-dying-inside smile. “Yeah, sure! I’ll, uh… I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

Great. Now you’re investigating your own love letter.

Romcoms make this look so much easier.

In your defense, the love letter was never supposed to see the light of day.

It had been one of those late-night, caffeine-fueled brain dumps—the kind where your emotions got the best of you, and instead of focusing on your essay due at midnight, you had decided, hey, why not write a dramatic love confession you’ll never actually send?

It started off as a joke. A harmless what if?

What if you had the guts to tell Heeseung how you felt?

What if you weren’t just the campus Cupid, but actually someone worth writing about?

What if, for once, you weren’t just the messenger in everyone else’s love stories?

So, you had poured your heart onto the page. You wrote about how frustrating it was, liking someone from a distance—watching him laugh in the campus café, seeing him glide effortlessly through every class, always just out of reach. You let yourself be honest, because no one was ever supposed to read it.

And then? You stuffed it into your notebook, forgot about it, and went about your life like it never happened.

Until now.

Now, it was in Heeseung’s hands just because you thought it was written by someone else, and now you were stuck in the worst romcom of all time—investigating your own love letter while trying desperately to keep your crush a secret.

Honestly?

You were so, so doomed.

“So, what do you think?”

You try to keep your face neutral as Heeseung waves the letter in front of you, looking more confused than anything.

“About… what?” You ask cautiously.

“This.” He gestures to the paper. “The letter. My so-called ‘secret admirer.’”

Your spoke before you could stop yourself. “So…you figure out who it is. What happens then?”

He thinks, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, i’ll turn them down, it’s really flattering but it’s also kind of a hassle.”

A hassle?

You force out a laugh, even as your stomach twists into knots. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. Someone clearly put a lot of thought into this.”

“That’s the problem.” Heeseung exhales sharply. “I wasn’t expecting this. Im interested in someone else, and now I have to figure out how to let this person down without making things awkward.”

Your face heats up. You want to disappear.

“So, you’re not interested in them…? You like someone already?” You ask hesitantly, barely able to get the words out.

Heeseung shakes his head. “I don’t even know who they are. But I hope they don’t take it the wrong way, Y’know?”

You stare at him, pulse pounding in your ears.

He has no idea.

And now? You definitely can’t confess.

Not when you already know his answer.

And if there was one thing worse than knowing Heeseung didn’t want a relationship, it was actively helping him investigate your own confession.

Every day, he’d bring up new theories about who could’ve written the letter, and every day, you’d have to nod along, pretending to be just as clueless.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Heeseung didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously, mostly brushing it off whenever it came up. But as the days passed, something shifted… just slightly.

“Okay, so hear me out,” Heeseung said, leaning against the bookshelf beside you. The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and muffled whispers. “What if it’s someone from one of my classes?”

You kept your eyes on your laptop screen, pretending to focus on your assignment. “You already went through that theory. Twice.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking—what if they’re too nervous to say anything in person? What if it’s, like… someone who sits far away from me?”

You bit your lip. “And yet, you’re still expecting me to figure it out?”

“Well, you’re good at reading people.” Heeseung grinned, nudging your arm. “You always seem to know what’s going on with everyone.”

Your heart stuttered. If only he knew just how right he was.

Heeseung sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t get it. They wrote all this deep, meaningful stuff, but they didn’t sign their name. What’s the point of confessing if you don’t want the person to know?”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe they were scared.”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, looking at you in that way that always made you feel like he could see through you. “Scared of what?”

You hesitated. “Of ruining what they already have.”

His expression shifted. “You think they know me?”

You forced a shrug. “Probably. Why else would they write all that?”

Something flickered in his gaze, something unreadable. He held your gaze for a second too long before clearing his throat. “Huh. I never really thought about it like that.”

You turned back to your screen, desperate to focus on anything else. But then Heeseung moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned in to look at your laptop.

“What are you even working on?” he asked, voice quieter now, like the space between you had shrunk to something more intimate.

You could barely think straight. “Just… an essay.”

“Hm.” He didn’t sound convinced.

His voice was too close. His scent—clean, with a hint of something warm—was too distracting. It was stupid, so stupid, how easily he got under your skin without even trying.

The next few days started to get a little weird.

Heeseung had always been playful, always teasing and leaning in too close, but now it felt… different.

It was in the way he started remembering the little things—how you liked your coffee, how you tapped your fingers when you were thinking, how you always fixed your hair when you were nervous.

It was in the way he kept looking at you, his gaze lingering a little too long before he caught himself.

It was in the way his teasing changed—less casual, more intentional. Like he wanted to see how you’d react.

And then, one night, things got dangerous.

You were in his dorm, flipping through the list of names you had pretended to compile for the investigation. Heeseung sat on the floor beside you, his laptop balanced on his knees, absentmindedly chewing on a pen cap as he read through the letter again.

“You know…” he said, tilting his head, “whoever wrote this is actually really good with words.”

Your blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s, like… weirdly personal.” He frowned slightly, scanning the page. “I feel how much they mean it.”

You held your breath.

He let out a soft laugh. “Honestly, it kinda sounds like your writing.”

Your heart stopped.

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What?”

Heeseung blinked at you, startled. “I mean—you’re good at writing, right? I read your papers, You’ve always been good with words.”

He reads your papers?

You forced out a laugh, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your voice shook. “Right— Well, I didn’t write it, obviously.”

Heeseung studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your horror, he smirked.

“Why do you look so guilty?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I’m literally just existing, Heeseung. Shut up.”

He laughed, but there was something behind his eyes that made your stomach flip—something like curiosity. “Stop freaking out im just kidding.”

The investigation had led you and Heeseung all over campus, following false leads, and ultimately getting nowhere. You had been walking back toward the dorms when the sky, clear just moments ago, suddenly turned gray.

And then—of course—it started to rain.

Hard.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, pulling your jacket over your head as you and Heeseung ran toward the nearest cover—a small wooden gazebo near the campus library.

You both skidded to a stop under the roof, breathless and drenched. Heeseung shook his head like a wet dog, flinging water everywhere.

“Really?” You scowled, wiping raindrops off your face.

He laughed, ruffling his already-messy hair. “My bad.”

The sound of rain drumming against the roof filled the space between you, the cool breeze making you shiver.

“Here,” Heeseung said, shrugging off his hoodie.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re cold, Cupid” he pointed out, holding the hoodie out to you. “Take it.”

“I’m fine,” you said, crossing your arms.

He scoffed. “Just take it before you get sick.”

You hesitated, but he rolled his eyes and stepped closer, draping the hoodie over your shoulders himself. The warmth of it, of him, surrounded you immediately, and your breath hitched.

You looked up at him, ready to protest, but he was already watching you—his expression unreadable, the usual teasing glint in his eyes nowhere to be found.

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?” he murmured suddenly.

Your pulse spiked. “What?”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, studying you in a way that made your stomach twist. “I don’t know. You just…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

You swallowed hard, clutching the hoodie tighter around you.

The rain kept falling around you, blurring the world outside the gazebo, making this moment feel like it existed outside of everything else—outside of reality, outside of whatever mess you had gotten yourself into.

For a split second, it felt like you weren’t just Heeseung’s reluctant investigation partner. Like you weren’t the person holding onto a secret that could ruin everything.

Like, maybe, he could actually like you back.

But then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should probably wait this out before heading back.”

Just like that, the moment passed and you were left standing there in his hoodie, drowning in warmth, drowning in him, pretending you weren’t completely, helplessly falling apart.

After the rain, the campus felt quieter, the usual chatter dampened by the lingering water in the air. You walked alongside Heeseung, both of you with your hoods up, trying to shield yourselves from the leftover drizzle. It was awkward but comfortable — the kind of silence where you weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk or if it was okay just to exist in the same space.

Heeseung was the first to break it. “You know, you really don’t have to walk me all the way back to my dorm. It should be the other way around—.”

You glanced at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. You were worried about your own feelings, and now, Heeseung had a way of making your heart flutter with the smallest of gestures.

“I don’t mind,” you replied quickly, too quickly. “I just figured I should, you know… make sure you’re okay.”

Heeseung chuckled, a low sound that made you feel warm despite the cool rain. “You’re acting kind of weird. Usually, you’re so naggy. I thought I’d never see you get flustered.”

You looked away, trying to hide your face. “I’m not flustered.”

There was a brief pause as Heeseung watched you. His eyes softened, the usual teasing light in them dimming a little. “You’re not fooling me, you know.”

You slowed your pace, nervous now, your heart pounding as you tried to look calm. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“I think you are,” he replied, stepping a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours as the two of you continued walking side by side.

You swallowed hard. The proximity felt different now, more charged. Your voice faltered. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted his gaze to the ground, the rain creating ripples on the wet pavement. “It’s just… you’re always so careful with what you say. Always so in control. But sometimes… I wonder if you’re hiding something.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. You glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. The air between you felt heavier, and the tension seemed to stretch out longer than usual.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you murmured, even though part of you wished he could know the truth — or maybe, just maybe, that he could feel the same way.

Heeseung’s voice was quieter now, his tone almost teasing, but there was something else in it, something deeper. “Then why do you always look at me like that? Like you’re holding back?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

He finally met your eyes, his gaze intense. There was a flicker of something — was it vulnerability? — in his look. “Like you’re scared to let me in. What are you afraid of?”

Your breath hitched. For a split second, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to answer. Was it possible he was starting to see through your walls?

Heeseung’s gaze softened as he noticed the look on your face, sensing something unspoken. He took a step back, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Forget it.”

But you couldn’t forget it. Not now. You could feel the space between the two of you shifting, the weight of his words lingering. Something was different, something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if it was just your heart racing or something more.

For the rest of the walk, neither of you spoke much. But every time your eyes met, it felt like there was a new understanding between you two — a shared secret that neither of you was ready to fully admit, but both were beginning to feel.

It had been a long day, but when you stepped out of your last class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. It wasn’t just the cold air or the approaching dusk; something was off, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. That was until you spotted Heeseung standing by the bench outside the library, his gaze fixed on you as if he’d been waiting for a while.

Your heart skipped a beat.

He looked at you for a moment before he spoke. “Cupid, we need to talk.”

A nervous flutter danced in your stomach, and you forced a smile. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, stepping toward you, and you noticed the letter in his hand — the same one you’d written to him, the one that had been slipped anonymously into his mailbox just a few days ago. Your heart pounded in your chest, the realization of what was happening dawning on you.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a moment, just held the letter between his fingers, glancing down at it. “I know this is from you,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but filled with a soft surprise. “I figured it out after I read it again.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You had hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t find out this way. But here it was, and you couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“How… How did you know?” you asked, trying to hide the nerves creeping up your voice.

He smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “A few things gave it away. The way you worded everything… It just felt like it came from you.”

“Also I found some of your notebooks while we were at your dorm and I matched the handwriting…” He blurted out.

Your heart sank. You had spent so long hoping he wouldn’t realize it was you, but now it seemed impossible to hide the truth.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I just… didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Heeseung’s expression softened. “Why would it be awkward?”

“Because I’ve liked you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it,” you admitted, looking down at your shoes. “So I thought if I wrote the letter, I could control it. But then I accidentally gave it to you and everything is just— I don’t know It was never meant to reach you.”

Heeseung’s smile widened, and something about the way he looked at you made your stomach flip. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I kind of wish you’d just told me sooner.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said, stepping a little closer. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you but now that I know… It’s kind of a relief. I’ve been wondering why you’ve been acting so weird around me.”

You blinked, taken aback. “I’ve been acting weird?”

Heeseung laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Always a little too nervous when we talk.”

You felt a wave of warmth rise to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to… I just…”

He took another step forward, the distance between the two of you shrinking. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.” He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an almost teasing glint in them. “Honestly, I’ve kind of had a feeling you liked me. You just never said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Wait… you knew?”

He grinned. “Not for sure, but I wasn’t completely blind. I just didn’t want to make assumptions.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you felt your nerves ease a little. The tension that had been building between the two of you melted away, replaced by something lighter, something more familiar.

“So… this doesn’t make things weird?” you asked cautiously, unsure if you were reading him right. The last thing you wanted was to make things uncomfortable.

Heeseung shook his head, his smile softening. “No. Actually, I’m kind of glad. Now I don’t have to turn anyone down because I like someone else.”

Your heart raced as he closed the gap between the two of you, standing only a few inches away. He looked down at the letter in his hand, then back at you, his expression serious but warm. “I don’t think I ever really realized how much I liked you until now. I think I’ve been too caught up in my own head to notice, but hearing this from you? Yeah, I think I feel the same.”

For a moment, everything seemed to pause — the sound of people passing by, the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, even the thumping of your own heartbeat — until Heeseung’s words sank in fully. The shock of it left you speechless, and the only thing you could manage was a soft, almost breathless, “Really?”

He chuckled, the sound light and comforting. “Really. I like you too, Cupid— I mean, Y/N.”

A smile spread across your face, and you couldn’t stop it. Your heart felt lighter than it had in days, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest. You had been so afraid of how things might turn out, but now, with Heeseung standing here in front of you, it felt like everything was falling into place.

Heeseung held the letter out to you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “You know, you could’ve just told me. But I guess this works too.”

You took the letter from him, glancing down at the words you’d written once more, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it was a bit dramatic. But… I was too scared to just say it. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

He reached for your hand, gently taking it in his. “You didn’t mess anything up, Cupid. You just… made everything clearer.”

And just like that, all the tension and uncertainty you’d been feeling seemed to dissolve. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. You were standing here, with Heeseung, both of you finally understanding the feelings that had been simmering for so long.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice playful again, “How about we skip the letters next time and just go for a dinner date?”

You laughed, your heart full as you squeezed his hand. “That sounds perfect.”

Heeseung smiled, his gaze soft and filled with something genuine. “Good. Let’s not wait any longer, I really want some ramen.”

And with that, the two of you walked off together, the air between you light, and the promise of something more ahead.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Dating Heeseung felt like stepping into something familiar but entirely new at the same time. The comfort of your friendship was still there—the teasing, the ease, the way you could talk about anything and everything—but now there was something softer, sweeter, laced between every interaction.

Like right now.

It was late, the two of you curled up on your dorm room floor with a half-finished pizza between you, an old playlist humming softly from your phone. The world outside felt quiet, like this moment only belonged to the two of you. Heeseung was leaning against the bed, his legs stretched out, while you were sitting cross-legged beside him, picking at the crust of your pizza slice.

His hand, which had been resting casually near yours, suddenly slid closer, his fingers tracing the tips of yours absentmindedly. It was such a simple thing, but it sent a shiver up your spine nonetheless.

“So,” Heeseung started, voice slow and teasing. “How’s it feel? Finally dating the guy of your dreams?”

You rolled your eyes, already knowing where this was going. “You’re impossible.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning his head back against the bed. “No, but really. You had a crush on me for so long, and now look at us.” His fingers fully laced with yours now, his touch warm and effortless.

“I wouldn’t say I had a crush that long,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Are you kidding? You literally wrote me a love letter.”

Your face burned. “Okay, one letter—”

“One?” Heeseung gasped dramatically, sitting up and turning toward you. “So you’re telling me there aren’t, like, ten versions of that letter somewhere in your notes app?”

You choked. “There absolutely are not.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “There are. You rewrote it a bunch of times, didn’t you?”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “I am not having this conversation.”

Heeseung was grinning now, having way too much fun at your expense. He reached over, gently prying your hands from your face. “No, no, let’s talk about it. Tell me, how long did it take you to get the perfect wording? Did you, like, pace around your room dramatically?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “For your information, I wasn’t that dramatic.”

Heeseung smirked. “Mhm. So you didn’t dramatically sigh and go, ‘No, this isn’t right, I need to capture his essence’?”

You picked up a stray piece of crust and chucked it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing as he caught your wrist, pulling you toward him slightly.

“You’re the worst,” you mumbled, but there was no real annoyance behind it.

Heeseung was still grinning, his fingers now playing with yours absentmindedly. “You love it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I really don’t.”

“You do,” he countered, tugging you even closer until you were practically pressed against his side. His voice dropped, softer now, almost teasing in a different way. “Did you mean everything you said in that letter?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “What if I did?”

Heeseung tilted his head, his gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere melted into something else—something quieter, more intense.

“Then,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles, “I’d tell you that I think about it a lot.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Heeseung nodded, his expression unusually serious now. “I mean, do you even realize how… nice it is to know someone felt that way about me? And not just anyone—you.” He exhaled, his lips curling into something softer, more affectionate. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I first read it, before I even knew it was from you, I remember thinking… whoever wrote this really cares about me.”

Your heart was thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“And then,” he continued, “when I found out it was you? It just… it all made sense.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “It did?”

Heeseung hummed in response.

“You’ve always been there,” he said softly. “I just didn’t realize how much I wanted you to be closer.”

You felt your throat tighten, emotion bubbling up in your chest, but before you could even think of a response, Heeseung leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

His eyes flickered to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again, as if silently asking permission.

You didn’t need to think twice.

Closing the small distance between you, you kissed him.

It was soft, slow—like both of you were still memorizing the feeling. Heeseung sighed against your lips, his hand sliding to your jaw, tilting your face toward him just slightly.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart pounding, Heeseung smiled, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“So,” he murmured, eyes twinkling, “if I ask you nicely, do I get to read those other drafts of the letter?”

You groaned, shoving him away playfully. “Absolutely not.”

Heeseung only laughed, pulling you back into his arms with ease. “Fine, fine. But at least let me know—was I always this irresistible in them?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

He grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your temple. “Love you too.”

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#Ꮺ 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #fanfic #fluff fic #heeseung enha #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic #heeseung fluff

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societyfolklore · 1 day ago

Text

Plus One – Consequence

Title: Plus One – Consequence

Pairing: Loki x SHEILD Agent!Female Reader

Summary: Loki wants to be 'of use' and is assigned to be your partner on a mission. But that's not the only thing he's focused on. He's done waiting, this time he wants his answer.

Word Count: 6.6k (It got big… but plot though!)

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, smut, fingering, Unprotected sex, No beta read.

A/N: Part 1 and Part 2 (this is the finally.. I think.. maybe..probably) BIG thank you to @angelremnants for helping me out with this

You had been left alone since the incident in the library, no sign of Loki, and for once, you told yourself it was for the best. You were fine- better off, even. It wasn’t as if you had been waiting for him to reappear, looking over your shoulder at every flicker of green light, or catching yourself searching rooms as if expecting him to be there. No, you weren’t missing him. Not at all.

Still, suspicion gnawed at you over his absence. Loki wasn’t the type to simply disappear without a reason, and while you should have been relieved, something about it felt... wrong. Like he had been deliberately keeping his distance. Was he playing some new game? Or had he simply grown bored of you?

You forced the thoughts away, refusing to entertain them further. You had more important things to focus on. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself-until you were suddenly called in for a meeting.

Thor and Fury. That was an unusual combination. Your missions rarely overlapped with Thor, and the fact that he was involved at all made your stomach twist with unease. You had told yourself you didn’t miss Loki. That you weren’t waiting for him. But now, sitting here, the realization hit you harder than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was just... wishful thinking?

Thor sat forward, his massive frame somehow managing to take up more space than the chair should allow, his expression a mixture of determination and pride. “Loki has expressed a desire to be more ‘of use,’” he began, his tone firm yet encouraging. “And after speaking with the Director, it has been decided that Loki shall be joining you on your next mission. You know a trail run of things."

"Excuse me?" You looked between the God and your Director. "Tell me he's joking.."

Fury leaned back in his chair, ignoring your clear objections, his single eye fixed on Thor with a skeptical intensity. “He’s your brother Thor and I respect that, Loki appears to want to make amends but that doesn't mean he gets to just 'jump in' he has to prove we can see him as an ally ” Fury said, his voice calm but edged with steel. “His is guy who tried to level New York.”

Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t falter. “Loki is a proven warrior and strategist,” he said. “He has fought beside me countless times and, while his methods may be unorthodox, his results are undeniable. He is motivated to prove himself.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of Thor’s words settling in. Motivated was one way to describe Loki, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was for the right reasons. Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself, waiting for Fury’s response.

Fury tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully before turning his attention to you. “And what’s your take on this? You’ll be working closest with him. You comfortable with that?”

You hesitated, feeling both pairs of eyes on you.

“Comfortable might be too strong a word,” you admitted, keeping your tone professional. “But I trust Thor’s judgment, and if Loki’s abilities can give us an edge on this mission, I’ll make it work, better it just be me he scre-" You couldn't even bring yourself to say it. "Better it's me he stabs in the back then have the whole team go down with him."

Thor gave you a small nod of gratitude, clearly deciding not hear your backhanded comments about his brother, all while Fury studied you for a moment longer before speaking.

“Fine. But let’s be clear about something: if he so much as hints at going off-script, it’s on you to rein him in. Understood?”

“Understood,” you said firmly, though the thought sent a flicker of doubt through you. Reining Loki in was a task easier said than done.

Thor exhaled, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor.

“You will not regret this decision,” he said confidently. “Loki will not disappoint us.”

Fury didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between you and Thor before he finally stood. “Let’s hope not. Because if he does, I’ll make sure we’re not having this conversation again. I'll order him off world and back to Asgard.” With that, he strode out of the room, leaving the two of you alone with the gravity of the situation.

Thor turned to you, his expression softening. “Thank you for your faith in this, even if it’s tentative. Loki’s journey will not be easy, but I believe he is capable of great things.”

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach remained. “Let’s hope he believes that too,” you said quietly, already bracing yourself for the challenges ahead.

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Darling,” a familiar voice drawled, cutting through the charged silence like a blade. You turned your head sharply, catching the faint shimmer of green light in the corner of the room. Loki stepped forward from the shadows, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the monitors. His smirk was as maddening as ever, exuding a confidence that bordered on outright arrogance. “It will be... enlightening.”

Thor’s posture stiffened, his voice immediately dropping into a warning tone. “Loki, I told you to wait outside.”

Loki waved a dismissive hand, the motion languid and unconcerned. “Oh, come now, brother. I was merely curious to hear the verdict of my fate. Surely you can’t fault me for wanting to be... informed.”

Thor’s expression darkened, a rare flicker of frustration slipping past his usual composure. “If Fury finds out-”

“He didn't even notice.” Loki interrupted smoothly, his icy blue gaze flicking to you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken uncomfortably. “I doubt anything I say now would surprise him. Besides,” he added, his tone softening into something almost thoughtful, “I suspect our dear Agent here prefers knowing exactly what they’re getting into.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you refused to take the bait.

“What I’d prefer,” you said evenly, keeping your tone professional despite the simmering irritation, “is for you to follow orders. Starting now.”

Loki chuckled, the sound low and rich, like velvet wrapped around steel.

“Oh, I fully intend to follow orders, I do enjoy making sure your satisfied with my performance” he said, his smirk widening slightly. “But forgive me if I indulge in a little... curiosity. It’s not every day one gets the chance to prove their worth under such delightful scrutiny.”

Thor stepped between you and his brother, his towering frame blocking Loki’s view as his voice dropped into something firmer. “Enough, Loki. Prove your worth through action, not theatrics.”

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never wavering. “As you wish, dear brother,” he said lightly, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. He stepped back but didn’t leave entirely, lingering just long enough to cast one last glance your way.

“I’ll see you at the jet then Agent,” Loki murmured, the promise in his voice unmistakable, before disappearing in a swirl of green light. "Don’t be late..”

Thor sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will be... a challenge.”

You couldn’t help but agree, though a part of you suspected Loki’s presence was about to make things more than just challenging-it was going to make them impossible to forget.

The HYDRA facility loomed ahead, its sleek lines cutting through the forest like a blade. The metallic sheen of its exterior caught the moonlight, giving it an eerie, otherworldly aura. Loki walked beside you, his presence both magnetic and maddening. Despite the weight of the mission, he seemed utterly at ease, his movements fluid, his expression one of quiet amusement.

“Try not to get us caught,” you muttered, scanning the perimeter through your scope. The darkened forest was alive with distant sounds-rustling leaves, faint chirps, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

“Darling, please,” Loki replied, his tone dripping with mock hurt. “I am the very definition of discretion.” He smirked, tilting his head to regard you with those piercing blue eyes. “Although, if you’d rather admire my talents from afar, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Your talents aren’t exactly why I’m here,” you retorted sharply, though you couldn’t entirely suppress the warmth rising in your cheeks.

“Oh? And here I thought I was your favourite Asgardian,” he quipped, falling into step just behind you. “You do seem rather fixated on me lately.”

You ignored him, motioning for him to follow. Loki’s illusions cloaked your approach, turning you into shifting shadows that passed unnoticed by the guards patrolling the perimeter. His magic hummed faintly in the air, a reminder of the power he wielded with infuriating ease. Every so often, you caught the faintest flicker of light from his hands, the only sign of the enchantments he was weaving.

Inside, the server room was sterile and cold, lined with blinking terminals and an unsettling hum of machinery. Loki conjured a shimmering barrier at the door, sealing you inside and masking your presence. The faint green glow of his magic illuminated his sharp features, making him look almost otherworldly.

“Efficient,” you admitted grudgingly as you began downloading the data. The whir of the transfer filled the room, the only sound aside from Loki’s deliberate footsteps.

“Praise from you? How unexpected,” he murmured, leaning casually against a terminal. His voice was quieter now, almost reflective. “You’ve been remarkably tense, Agent. Shall we discuss it?”

“No.”

“Ah, deflection.” He crossed his arms, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “You can’t hide it forever, you know. That… spark between us.”

You turned sharply, glaring at him. “This isn’t the time.”

“But there will be a time,” he countered smoothly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken intent. “Admit it, darling. You find me… intriguing.”

Before you could respond, alarms blared. Loki’s barrier flickered as HYDRA’s countermeasures overloaded it. Red lights bathed the room in an ominous glow as the door burst open, and armed agents poured in, their weapons trained on you.

“Ah, and here I thought we might avoid theatrics,” Loki said dryly, his hands already glowing with magic as he stepped in front of you. “Shall we?”

Things had been going well. You and Loki had managed to sneak into the HYDRA facility undetected, extracted the necessary files, and were making your way out. It had almost seemed too easy. But then, chaos erupted. Loki moved with lethal grace, his illusions scattering the agents as he cast bolts of searing magic. His movements were fluid, a dance of power and precision, and for a moment, it seemed as though he thrived in the chaos. You fired with equal determination, covering his blind spots with sharp efficiency. It was almost seamless-until one guard managed to fire a well-aimed blast directly at Loki.

The energy struck him square in the chest, sending him reeling backward. He staggered, his illusions flickering and his magic faltering visibly. "Go," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with both pain and frustration as his hand glowed faintly in an attempt to hold the illusions together.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snapped, catching his arm as you fired another shot with your free hand. You needed cover-fast.

“This is hardly the time to argue,” Loki grunted, his weight pressing into you as you pulled him behind a crumbling support beam. “But you do seem to enjoy things happening in public places..”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, breathless, scanning the space for an exit. “You could have just let me take the hit.”

Loki scoffed, despite the pain evident in his stance. “Yes, well, call me sentimental.”

You huffed, pushing him down against the wall as you checked his wound. “Sentimental, my ass. You’re just trying to prove a point.” "And pray tell? What point might that be?" Loki hand was still pressed into where he'd taken the hit though it seemed not to effect his sharp wit in anyway. "That I need you." You were glowered, but a slow, dangerous glint flicked in his eyes.

“Darling, if I wanted to prove that point, you’d be on your knees by now,” he murmured with a pained smirk.

You glared at him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Shut up.”. He staggered, his illusions flickering and his magic faltering visibly. “Go,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with both discomfort and frustration as his hand glowed faintly in an attempt to hold the illusions together.

“Not without you,” you snapped, the words coming out harsher than you intended as adrenaline coursed through you. You grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet as you fired at the remaining guards with one hand. His weight leaned heavily against you, and you could feel the tremor in his body as he struggled to regain his composure. Guilt gnawed at you with every step; he had shielded you without hesitation, and now he was paying the price.

You practically dragged Loki into the nearest hiding spot-a disused stairwell, the walls damp and cold from years of neglect. It wasn’t much, but it would give his magic time to work, to let his body stitch itself back together while you caught your breath.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his usual cocky grace slightly dulled, but his smirk remained infuriatingly intact. The dim lighting of the stairwell cast sharp shadows across his features, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more vividly. You knelt beside him, pressing your hand against the wound to gauge how bad it was, but before you could fully assess it, his fingers curled around your wrist, halting your movements with a surprising gentleness.

His grip was firm but not forceful, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist in a way that sent an unexpected shiver through you. "Why is it that you recoil at the idea of needing me?" he asked, his voice lower now, almost contemplative. "Be it in battle or in your bed, you seem to find the notion unbearable."

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. "This isn't about that. You took a hit, and I need to make sure you don't bleed out before your magic kicks in."

"Ah, deflection," Loki mused, his grip tightening slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "It's a fascinating thing to watch. You insist I mean nothing, yet here you are, hands trembling as you touch me. Tell me, darling-what are you so afraid of?"

Your pulse hammered in your throat, but you yanked your hand free, glaring at him. "We are not having these conversations now, and why are you talking like I'm the problem? The library happened, and you've been MIA since..." Your voice trailed off, frustration tightening in your chest. You weren’t sure why it stung-why it felt like a betrayal that he had disappeared after that afternoon.

Loki’s smirk faltered just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face. He held your gaze for a long moment, searching, and then, with a slow exhale, that insufferable confidence slid back into place.

"And yet, here we are," he murmured, tilting his head, voice like silk and steel. "Tell me, darling-why does it sound like you mind? Miss me did you?"

Loki only smirked, though there was something softer behind his usual arrogance, something dangerously close to hope. “Dogs don't miss fleas,” you snapped, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Loki’s smirk wavered. Just for a second, so quickly you almost missed it. Then, something colder took its place, an expression you hadn’t seen before. Not irritation, not amusement-hurt.

“Oh,” he said, his voice losing some of its playfulness, a dangerous undercurrent forming beneath. “I see, so you do want to be a bitch then.” "What's that supposed to mean?" You looked at him hurt feeling stabbing at her chest, he didn't get to call you names. His arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze darkened as he took a slow step back. “You let me touch you, taste you, fuck you-and now I’m just something to be discarded? A game you can play when it suits you, but when the pieces stop falling in your favor, I’m nothing more than a parasite?”

Your breath hitched, stunned at the venom in his voice. “Loki-”

He scoffed. “No, please. Enlighten me.” His tone was sharp now, edged with something almost bitter. “What am I to you, exactly? Because you seem to enjoy having me when no one’s watching. But the moment we step into the light, I become inconvenient, don’t I?”

His words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Because there was truth to them. You had pushed him away, compartmentalized your moments together, told yourself they didn’t mean anything. But standing here now, faced with the rawness in his voice, you realized-

It mattered to him.

The memory of his words in the library resurfaced, unbidden: A chance to be what you need. You hadn’t given it the weight it deserved at the time, hadn’t let yourself. But now, with his piercing gaze locked on yours, demanding an answer you weren’t ready to give, it was impossible to ignore.

Loki exhaled sharply, shaking his head, as if disgusted with himself for letting this moment happen. His next words came quieter, but with even more weight.

“You think I don’t want you? That each of our encounters hasn't left me wanting, haunted, in need of you?” His voice dropped lower, edged with frustration, but there was something else beneath it now, something raw. "You doubt me? Yet here I am injured on your behalf. Playing hero, trying to be better, all so you might be willing to take what I can offer out of the shadows."

The intensity in his voice sent a tremor down your spine. He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his tone shifting to something almost desperate. “You think I toy with you?” he murmured, voice a quiet rasp. “Do you know how insufferable it is-to crave something I cannot have?”

And then he kissed you. Push in against you, his body pushing you into the floor. Mission almost entirely forgotten in this moment. The dirt of the stairwell scrapping at the leather of your suit.

It was nothing like the teasing, taunting brushes of lips you'd had before. This was different. Fierce. Possessive. A demand and a question all at once. And you-

You didn’t stop him.

Your fingers curled into the leather of his suit, pulling him closer, because this time, there was no use pretending you didn’t want this too. Didn’t want him.

His hands slid down to your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise as he pressed you back against the wall. The tension, the heat, the hunger-it all snapped, unraveling in a desperate collision of mouths and hands.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “I won’t be your secret anymore,” he whispered, the words more declaration than threat. “Not after this.”

Your heart pounded, the weight of what he was saying crashing over you. But before you could respond, the distant sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment. You were on your feet, your rifle already raised. It was time to get out of this hell hole. They’re finish this conversation later, right now both had to get out, making sure Loki could stay on his feet, you started down the stairs.

Waiting at the extraction point for the quinjet to collect the pair of you. The safehouse was barely more than a disused, abandoned guard station. Neither of you had really spoken since the hall, unless it was to bark instructions or warnings at the other. No witty jabs, none of Loki’s usual sharp, flirty comments. Just silence that filled up the space-it felt suffocating.

Loki sat against the cold wall, one knee bent, arms resting loosely, but his gaze never left you. His silence was not his usual brooding arrogance-it was something else. Something more calculated, restrained.

“Do you regret it?” he finally asked, breaking the quiet with a voice almost too soft to be his. A whisper, but one that carried weight, making your chest tighten.

“Regret what?” you asked cautiously, though you knew exactly what he meant. Your voice was quieter now, the usual edge replaced by uncertainty.

“This. Us,” Loki said, his gaze locking onto yours with disarming intensity. “Every time you let me closer, you pull away twice as hard. Why?”

You tensed, your body stiffening instinctively as if preparing for a fight, but the words wouldn’t come. How could they? How could you put into words the war raging in your mind? The sheer impossibility of what you felt for him?

Loki exhaled, shaking his head as if he was already resigned to your silence. Then, something shifted in his expression-something darker, edged with frustration. His voice turned sharp, his patience worn thin.

“Why is it so hard for you to accept this?” he asked, his voice rougher now. “That I want you. That you want me.”

You stiffened, shaking your head as you tried to step back, but he followed. “It’s not that simple.”

Loki scoffed. “Oh, but it is. You just refuse to admit it.” He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. “You act as though I have no hold over you, yet you let me in. Over and over again. You let me touch you, you crave it, and then you run the moment it becomes too real.”

“That’s not true.”

“Liar.” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration barely contained. “God of Lies remember? You think I don’t see it? The way you hesitate, yet you still reach for me?”

His words struck deep, rattling you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction-but then his hands were on you, dragging you into another kiss, this one more desperate, more forceful.

You shoved at him, breathless, but he barely moved. “Loki-”

“Stop pretending,” he bit out, his grip tightening. “You want this. You don’t tell me no. Stop acting like this isn’t everything you think about.”

Something inside you snapped. With a growl of frustration, you pushed him back, eyes burning with defiance. “You don’t get to tell me what I think.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but it was different now, something darker curling at the edges of his lips. “Oh, but I do.”

And then he kissed you again, all heat and frustration and something dangerous. This time, you didn’t pull away.. Then, something shifted in his expression-something darker, edged with frustration.

“You fight me at every turn,” he murmured, leaning forward just slightly. “You let me in-your body, your mind-and then you pretend none of it matters. That I don’t matter.”

“That’s not-”

“Oh, isn’t it?” His voice sharpened, and for the first time tonight, the intensity in his gaze turned molten, heated with something far too raw. “Stop pretending. You want this. You don’t tell me no. Stop acting like this isn’t everything you think about.”

His words struck deep, reverberating through you like a blow, because they weren’t entirely wrong.

“I don’t-”

“You don’t what?” Loki cut in, moving fluidly to his feet, stepping into your space. “You don’t want me? You don’t crave me, even now?” His voice dropped lower, barely a breath between you. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering as his fingers brushed against your wrist. A touch so simple, yet it burned like a brand.

“Why are you so resistant to this?” he demanded, voice a rough whisper. “To me? To us?”

Because it was dangerous. Because it was Loki. Because you weren’t sure who you were when he was around.

But the words never left your lips.

Loki scoffed, shaking his head as if he finally understood something you didn’t. And then-

Then he kissed you.

It was the same as before. His pure frustration, desperation, and need colliding all at once. A battle neither of you had the will to fight anymore. His hands gripped your arms, pushing you back until you felt the cold wall at your back, caging you in without escape.

And the worst part? You didn’t want to escape.

Your hands came up his chest onto his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, like you needed to drown in him just to survive this.

Then, just as suddenly, you shoved him back.

Breathing hard, your hands still curled into his clothes, you stared at him-at the mess he had made of you.

Loki’s chest rose and fell in sharp movements, his pupils blown wide. And then, his lips curled, but there was no arrogance in his expression. Just something deeper.

“You can keep running,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “But we both know how this ends.” Loki took steps towards you.

“You’re insufferable,” you managed, though your voice trembled more than you’d like.

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back smoothly, his tone teasing but heavy with intent.

The moment stretched taut, and though you knew you should push him away, the pull of his proximity was overwhelming. His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.

“Just say the word,” Loki murmured, his voice a silken promise as his lips hovered achingly close to yours. "I can be what you need." His voice sounded more like a plea than a promise as his hand brushed over your cheek, pushing stray hairs away. "Imagine it, everything I could give you..." His breath on your cheeks as he whispered made your heart race. "You've only just sampled the things I can do, for you, with you."

His fingers traced lightly along the column of your throat, lingering just beneath your chin as if daring you to pull away. His touch was slow, deliberate, the cool press of his fingertips sending a shiver skittering down your spine.

"Are you worried your friends will judge?" he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. His other hand moved to the zipper of your suit, teasingly dragging it down just enough to expose the sensitive skin at your collarbone. "None of them have perfect pasts. Why do they get the chance to make amends, yet you dismiss me?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "It's not the same, Loki."

"Isn't it?" He pressed, his fingers toying with the buckle of your utility belt slowly undoing it. You barely registered it hitting the floor. "You think me irremediable-is that it? Or do you just like the idea of walking on the darker side but refuse to admit it?"

Your pulse thundered against your ribs. His words cut too close, slipping through the cracks of your defenses like tendrils of smoke. You should stop him, but instead, you stood entranced, helpless against the way his touch made your body burn.

Loki's smirk softened into something more knowing, more dangerous. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, teasing, testing. "You're not as pure or righteous as you like to pretend," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. His finger pulling the zipper down to your stomach. "We all dwell in the grey."

His hand slid down, fingers grazing the curve of your waist before settling on your hip. With agonizing patience, he traced the seam of your suit, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to make your breath hitch. "You make this idea of heroism not seem like such a folly. Can't you see I need you too?" His voice dipped lower, dark with something deeper than seduction-something raw. "You make me want to be better, and that terrifies me more than anything."

Your breath caught, your fingers trembling where they rested against his chest. Still, you didn't push him away. His words, the weight behind them, left you teetering on the edge of something you couldn't name.

Loki’s smirk deepened as he slid his hand lower, slipping past the half-unzipped fabric of your suit. His fingers trailed over your stomach, teasing, deliberate. Then, lower still. A wicked chuckle rumbled in his throat as his palm pressed against your core, his breath hot against your cheek.

"No underwear?" he murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. "How delightfully scandalous. Like you were expecting something, or just wishful thinking?"

A flush crept up your neck, but before you could muster a retort, he pressed his fingers more firmly against you, feeling the heat, the undeniable evidence of your arousal. A pleased hum vibrated from him, his lips ghosting along delicate of your throat.

"Don’t fight it," he purred, his mouth leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. The scrape of his teeth followed, nipping just enough to make you gasp.

Then, you felt it-long, skilled fingers slipping between your folds, teasing before one breached your entrance. A sharp gasp left you, your head tilting back against the wall as he worked you open with excruciating slowness.

"That's it, darling," Loki whispered, his voice a silk-covered blade. "Let me in."

His fingers curled, pressing deeper, slow and deliberate, savoring the way your breath hitched, the way your thighs trembled beneath his touch. His mouth trailed down the side of your throat, the scrape of his teeth sending shivers down your spine as his other hand splayed against your lower back, keeping you pinned where he wanted you.

"So conflicted." he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Going to keep pretending you don’t want this?"

A ragged gasp escaped you as he added another finger, stretching you, working you open with agonizing patience. His thumb circled your clit with infuriating slowness, teasing, coaxing, drawing out every reaction like he was savoring a masterpiece only he could create.

"You can deny it all you like," Loki purred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "But your body knows the truth. It has always known."

Heat coiled in your stomach, the pressure building too fast, too much, and still, Loki took his time, dragging out every moment, every sensation until you were gasping against him, clinging to the leather of his suit as your body betrayed you.

"Let go, darling," he coaxed, his fingers pressing deeper, his pace quickening just enough to push you closer to the edge. "Let me hear you say my name. Before I ruin you properly."

But just as the pleasure coiled unbearably tight in your core, his movements slowed-then stopped entirely. A desperate whimper escaped you before you could stop it, frustration knotting in your stomach as your body trembled on the precipice of release.

Loki chuckled darkly, his breath warm against your ear. "Not yet," he murmured, withdrawing his fingers just enough to leave you aching. "Admit it, and I'll give you everything, darling. Just three words. 'I need you.' just give me the words."

Your body burned, every nerve alight with the cruel denial of release. You clenched your jaw, trying to resist, but Loki's fingers traced lazy circles against your sensitive flesh, teasing, never giving enough to push you over the edge. His other hand slid up, cupping your throat gently, his thumb tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he coaxed, his voice smooth as silk, but beneath it, there was something deeper-something raw. "You need me. Say it, and I'll make you come so hard you'll forget your own name."

Your breath hitched, your hands fisting in his leather as your body warred with your pride. The ache between your legs was unbearable, his teasing touch driving you to madness. Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but still, you held back, even as your resolve wavered dangerously.

Loki's smirk softened into something almost reverent, his fingers ghosting over your pulse. "You can keep pretending, darling. Keep fighting me. But we both know how this ends. We both know what you need."

Another flick of his fingers, another pulse of pleasure, and a strangled moan tore from your lips. Your resolve cracked, splintered under the weight of your desire. You squeezed your eyes shut, barely above a whisper as the words finally slipped free.

"I... need you."

Loki exhaled sharply, something triumphant gleaming in his gaze before his mouth crashed against yours. This time, there was nothing measured, nothing teasing. It was raw, hungry, desperate. His fingers didn’t work at your suit with the same slow deliberation as before-instead, he all but tore it from your body, the fabric peeling away under his forceful touch.

With a firm grip, he spun you, shoving you down onto the desk behind you, your palms hitting the cool surface as his body caged you in. The sound of leather and metal followed as his own clothing vanished in a shimmer of green. He pressed against you, his heat searing, his strength undeniable. His hands roamed freely now, greedy, possessive, mapping every inch of you like he was memorizing it for eternity.

“You have no idea,” he growled against your ear, his breath hot, “what you do to me.”

His teeth scraped along your shoulder before he bit down, sharp and claiming, his body pressing harder against yours as his hand gripped your hip, anchoring you in place

Loki groaned, the sound deep and unrestrained, his fingers digging into your skin as he finally sank into you, filling you with a stretch that was almost too much-but god, it felt right. The noise you made was something guttural, something you hadn’t even realized you were capable of.

“Mine now,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled back, only to slam into you again, rougher this time, dragging a strangled cry from your lips.

Loki wasn’t measured now-wasn’t teasing. There was no more patience, no more waiting. He drove into you with a force that left you breathless, your nails digging into the hard surface of the desk as your body rocked beneath him.

He growled against your ear, the sound primal, raw, vibrating through your entire body. "And to think, you fought me so hard," he mused, his tone dark, nearly mocking. "Tell me, darling, was it worth resisting?"

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as he snapped his hips again, filling you to the hilt, stretching you, making you feel every inch of him.

Your body betrayed you, clenching around him, desperate for more. He felt it too, a pleased chuckle escaping him as his fingers curled tighter around your hips, holding you in place as he set a relentless pace.

“You take me so well," he praised, his lips brushing against your shoulder before his teeth sank into the sensitive skin. You gasped, your back arching, the sharp pain blending into the overwhelming pleasure. "This was how it was supposed to be. Only mine."

A wanton moan tore from both of you, the intensity of the moment swallowing everything else. Loki was everywhere-his hands gripping, his mouth marking, his body claiming you in ways you could no longer deny.

“You’re mine,” Loki growled, his voice rough with something unrestrained, something dangerous. His hands, strong and possessive, guided your hips against him, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He moved without hesitation, without restraint, his frustration from before bleeding into every punishing thrust.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dark and demanding. “Say you want this.”

Your breath hitched, the pleasure clouding your mind, leaving you unable to think past the way he felt, the way he filled you, stretched you. You knew what he wanted. He wanted the words. He wanted you to say what he already knew. But pride still warred within you, even as your body betrayed you, clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

Loki’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t playful-it was predatory. “Say it,” he demanded again, punctuating his words with a hard thrust that sent a broken moan tumbling from your lips.

You bit down on your lip, refusing, even as your body trembled beneath him. But he wasn’t going to let you win. His fingers found your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His pupils were blown wide, his expression twisted in pleasure, but beneath it was something else-something raw.

“Louder,” he growled, his movements turning desperate, relentless. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

Your resolve cracked like shattered glass. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as a cry escaped you. “I want you.”

Loki groaned, the sound primal, his pace never faltering. “Again,” he ordered, his voice rough, breathless. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he thrust harder, deeper. “Say it again.”

Your head fell back, pleasure surging through you, consuming you whole. “I want you, Loki,” you gasped, the words breaking free before you could stop them.

His mouth was on you in an instant, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his desperation matching your own. “That’s it,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction, with possession. “Let go, darling. Let me have you.”

Your climax slammed into you, tearing through you with a force that left you breathless. Your body arched into his, your fingers tightening their grip as you shattered against him. Loki followed seconds after, his name a rasped groan against your skin as he claimed you completely, utterly.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies pressed together, the heat between you still lingering, still pulsing.

Loki’s hands moved to cradle your face, his touch suddenly tender, reverent. “Mine,” he whispered again, but this time, there was something softer beneath the claim, something deeper.

Your chest still heaved, the aftershocks of pleasure humming through you as you met his gaze, seeing something you weren’t sure you were ready to name. This was it-your last surrender. And yet, you were still panting, still trembling, and the look in Loki’s eyes had softened, the hunger tempered with something more, something yearning.

"...Yours," you whispered, the admission slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Loki inhaled sharply, his grip on you tightening for just a moment before his features melted into something smug, but there was warmth behind it, true satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing stray strands of hair from your face with an uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers lingering along your jaw.

The moment was intimate, raw-until the coms crackled to life, shattering the quiet between you.

"ETA five minutes."

Loki sighed, his smirk returning as he tilted his head. "Better get you dressed, darling. Can't have anyone seeing what's mine now, can I?"

You felt the loss of him immediately as he pulled away, the absence of his warmth making you shiver despite the heat still simmering beneath your skin. Your limbs were heavy, still trembling as he helped you back into your suit, his touch lingering longer than necessary, almost reverent. His own attire reappeared in a flash of green, his expression shifting back into something unreadable, though you caught the satisfied gleam in his eyes.

As you both collected yourselves, he moved toward the door of the abandoned guard shed, holding it open for you. The night air was crisp as you stepped through, Loki falling into stride beside you with an ease that felt... natural.

As the quinjet descended, kicking up dust around you, you hesitated for just a moment. Then, before you could think better of it, you reached out, slowly taking his hand in yours. Loki stilled, his fingers tightening around yours just slightly, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between you.

As the rear of the jet opened, you walked in together.

TAGs @mischiefmaker615

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki fluff and smut #loki fluff #marvel smut #avengers smut

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writingwisterias · 2 days ago

Text

Ruined

Part 2

Kidnapper! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DNE, SMUT MDNI, Dub-Con, Sonomphila, Oral (F receiving), Cow-Girl, Unprotected Sex, Degradation Kink, Implied Abuse, Manipulation, Light Intox Kink, Isolation

Read Pt1

Taglist: @rigorwhoring

had a thought couldn't shake it = pt2, Lighter on the tags this time but only going to get worse ;)

Nature was your only chance for a brief moment of peace, being able to watch the water flow freely in front of you from where you perched on a fallen tree without the fear of anything. Most of your fight had left, the fear of him doing something worse lingered in the back of your mind. His strength seemed endless like there were no limits he wouldn’t go to just so you understood that he can easily overpower you. Nothing in this situation was fair and it never will be so you have accepted that you should just deal with it. You had still yet to see the full extent of your kidnappers' anger – it wasn’t like you wanted to, after all curiosity killed the cat. With how obsessed he was with you it wouldn’t be like him to go that far. At least you hoped not. It was a good thing, you suppose, that his tolerance was high you guess.

If you sat here for long enough it was like you almost forgot where you were or why you were here. The nature changed around you, fresh leaves appearing on the tree now that spring had come around. The leaf litter being broken down by the mushroom colonies that had now appeared, their spores dusted the air giving the rays of sun an ethereal look. Occasionally animals would appear on the other side of the stream, the new babies drinking for the first time. You were just enjoying the sounds and sights of your new home you suppose, it wasn’t one that you wanted but it wasn’t terrible. It was nice to be here, like this. Until you heard the twig snap - his boots thudding on the floor as he approached you.

The plant life squashed, its future growth now relied on its own will to live.

“It’s getting dark now,” Leon said from behind you. One of his new rules he’s implemented. No time after dark, not when he nearly had a heart attack when he couldn’t find or see you. The orange sky was your warning. You didn’t reply to him, you never needed to say anything after all what he said was final. You’ve had enough handprints on your skin to learn that lesson. At least he was gentle this time as you walked through the door, his hand was holding yours softly instead crushing each bone.

“The sky’s pretty today” You said, watching the ground carefully as you walked next to him. Shoes were still a privilege you have yet to earn back after the last attempt to escape a few months ago so the last thing you needed was a thorn or cut on your foot if the opportunity did present itself. Leon nodded, stopping on the porch to observe the orange hues. They were always his favourite. It didn’t matter if the sun was rising or setting - if he saw them it meant he survived to live another day.

You watched carefully as his eyes scanned over them, his features calm as they fluttered shut. He looked peaceful – thankful even. “Don’t you think? I always liked the sunset” You prompted. He glanced over to you. He always did this, like he still didn’t fully trust you since your last escape. Trying to find any hidden meanings in your words. His grip tightened ever so slightly, afraid in his moment of weakness you might dash away again. Still never fully convinced you wanted to be here, like you were hesitant.

Upon entering the cabin you could already feel the heat of the fire, the crackles filling the room. The dinner he had made was already set out in front of you, vegetables he had gone out to collect, the ones from the garden not quite ready yet. Venison that he had also previously hunted.

You hated the way that smell was becoming familiar, feeling like home to you after so long being here. Dinner as usual was eaten in silence, he preferred it that way. Spending his time making sure you actually ate everything until he began to eat himself. Once the clinking sound of your cutlery against the plate was heard you would be allowed to speak again. “There were a few animals at the stream today” You spoke watching him as he began to eat.

He was methodic and gentle as he used the knife on the steak, scoring his lines in the meat before pressing harder to carve it. The actions mimicked familiar situations you have been in with him. The scar was now angry and red, you caught it in every window reflection or the bathroom mirror. A branding of where you belonged, like a horse or cattle to a cowboy. “What kind?” He asked, his eyes bore into you but they never really seemed interested in what you had to say exactly. More like he enjoyed the simplicity and domestic feel of the evening. “A few deer and rabbits. If I stay quiet enough they linger”

Your nails picked at the skin on your hand, your once perfect ones now were often seen with bloodied scabs. Despite your acceptance of your situation, the doubts and guilt you once had with your forgotten life are now gone – you still grew nervous in his presence. His control and dominance never faulted, always masking an element of him that you knew haunted him. It always slipped when darkness greeted him, when he was forced to sleep. His mind is plagued by nightmares of a side of him you didn't know about and he hoped you never would. After all he considered you his salvation, the only good thing he has managed to protect and gain. Conversations like this, despite his lack of interest, meant a lot to him.

“Maybe I should take you hunting with me then” Leon commented. Everything was always so violent with him, something innocent like watching animals always involved death eventually, little do you know that his whole life has been violent. Apart from the slither of love you have given him during sex it’s all he’s ever known. You smiled and nodded, not exactly agreeing but the idea of seeing more of the surrounding area is tempting. You never got far enough in your times of escaping, the trees always looked the same beyond the stream. “What’s it like? Hunting I mean.” You asked anything to stop the impending silence that lingered if the conversation went dry.

Leon always assumed you wouldn’t be interested in stuff like that. He would never admit that he hunted in a way to keep himself trained around a gun, after all anything could happen. “Peaceful”

Seeing him describe such a violent act like this made himself cringe, he had never liked the idea of death. He’s seen it far too often but Leon was a provider – a career. You needed to eat and he had the skills to make sure you have plenty of what you needed. Maybe showing more of the beauty that surrounded you would make you happier. Keep that smile that showed itself very little, there a while longer. That meant it was easier for you to gather your surroundings. It had only been a season since your last escape. You promised not to fight anymore but he saw the way you hesitated still when he kissed you. You grimace as you look upon the mark he left on your chest in the mirror.

The hesitation was still there and until he got rid of it you would be limited. You didn’t need him to explain his answer further, it would open up questions you were sure would get you punished in some way. Instead you both continued to clean up, manoeuvring around each other like a practiced dance. Your hums filled the air such a sweet tune he enjoyed so much. He watched as you lost yourself in your own mind watching the night grow closer through the window. He wondered where you were, wanting to know every thought you had and collect it like a dream journal. You jumped when you felt his lips on your shoulder, sucking the skin softly no doubt leaving another mark.

His touch was always so confusing. His lips were demanding, greedy to devour your sweet taste whilst his hands were gentle as they lifted you onto the kitchen counter. His fingers dug in the flesh of your thighs as he pried them apart, the nightdress you wore hitching up towards your hips as you displayed yourself to him. Leon nibbled at your thighs, each bite slowly growing closer to your clothed cunt. Yet, when he reached his destination he only smirked, eyes flicking upwards to see your face. Your brows pinched in pleasure, your teeth tugging on your lips silencing your whimpers as if they were a shameful thing to do.

Like it was such a terrible thing to enjoy what pleasure he treated you with. You felt his rough fingertips graze along the hem of your underwear, playing with the lace. “Don’t silence yourself love, you know how much I love your pretty song” He chuckled. You whimpered as his nose pressed against the fabric that separated him from your pussy. You could feel the tug on the fabric as he inhaled your scent, sucking on the gusset gently to gather the first taste. An appetiser of what you had to offer. You could feel the hint of a smile grow on your features as he pulled the fabric away exposing you.

His tongue had insane accuracy as he swiped at the arousal that was already pooling. His moan vibrated around you at your sweet taste, if only he had a drink in this flavour. Your legs trapped him close to you ensuring that he had no choice but to continue to devour you. Your pleasure caused his cock to throb in his trousers, the hardness of it almost becoming painful. He realized a while ago you didn’t mind the sex with him as long as your pleasure came first. If it felt like you were getting something out of it before him. You never saw the damp patch on his boxers when he would stand up and pull out his cock. The taste of you was enough for him, the thrill of betraying you with this simple realization had him orgasming first. The taste of you was always comparable to a Michelin star dessert.

Leon could feel the clench of your walls around your tongue as he brought you closer to your orgasm. His nose nudged against the sensitive bud eliciting deep guttural moans that sent the blood straight down to his cock. Just when you were about to cum, to give him the sweet juices he craved daily – Leon pulled away standing in front of you. Your cheeks were flush, eyebrows pinched in frustration. Complaints lingered in your mouth but came out in pathetic pleads and begs for pleasure again. Your own fingers frantically help him undo his trousers and free his leaking cock. “So desperate. I still remember when you pleaded for me to not give it to you. All that time you could have been getting all of this pleasure. Just for what? To not ruin your pride?” He chuckled as he lined it up.

It felt like heaven as he slid it through your folds, you watched the tip appear – red and eager already beading with his cum. His lips brushing the shell of your ear “Admit to me that you’ve always wanted it. Even when you squirmed part of you enjoyed it. Admit it”

It was a command. One that if you refused he would withdraw the pleasure you were clawing for. “Please, I was a fool before. I need it Leon” You begged. He laughed as he finally sunk himself into you. Groaning as you moulded around him, the tightness of your cunt gripping onto him like the nails you dug into his shoulders. He never seemed to get close enough, there was never enough skin contact for you. Leon moved slowly at first teasing you before his own pleasure coursed through him in a demand to finish. The usual silence of the home was broken with your moans, the sound of skin slapping before with one final thrust he finished. Pulling away to watch the cum spill out of you.

“Beautiful”

You didn’t hear his words, not when you felt his lips suck against the scar on your chest. The skin now angry and pulsing. Always leaving a reminder, making sure you never forgot. Sex was weird, the casual act of intimacy for normal people never felt quite right for the two of you. There was still reluctance on your part – the palms of your hands always pushed against his shoulders shoving him further away. Your mind always outwardly rejects him whenever you know it or not.

You wouldn’t get a shower tonight, not as his cum still dripped down your thighs. He always left it there to grow sticky, the smell permeating your skin like a scent claim. You could imagine the look he would give you in the morning when he wakes you up with his mouth again, the smell of him lingering on your skin.

Your nightgown was replaced with a fresh one, the stark white showing off an innocence you weren’t sure you obtained anymore. Leon did however – of course he did. You hadn’t seen what he had, felt the bones crush in your body as you continued to fight no matter what because it was your job.

The two of you laid away in the dark, your head resting on his chest listening to his steady heart whilst his finger brushed through your hair. How did you get here? Why did he have to choose you? You wouldn’t have wished this on any other girl but what was his incentive. What was his goal? Did he really want you to just live here, in this lonely bubble? Your thoughts were loud to him as they were everynight. You understood he explained the basics of why he took you, his admission to finally having something good in his life. To provide a happy ending for the both of you. He felt your breathing change as you grew frustrated. You promised him to not fight anymore, to give in and appreciate the life he's giving you. Leon wasn’t stupid, not anymore, he could tell you still had a spark of rebellion in you. He was just waiting for it to appear.

He thought before about telling you about the horrors that plagued his mind. AFter all, he had only given you a brief explanation over what his job was. The gruesome details of the event he had experienced left him with nightmares. The things he had faced now lingered in the shadows of the room or the corner of his eyes. Maybe he would tell you about the ghosts of his pasts, the one that smiled at him from the trees when he was alone. He wouldn’t let you turn out like them; not when he had the ability to make sure you never did.

You were special, Leon knew that from the moment he sunk his fat cock into your pussy. You stretched and clenched around him in the most perfect way he immediately became addicted that first night he had you. You had to be claimed somehow – so feisty that first time it was a hassle getting you to stay still, a fuck like you was too good to let loose. He still had the photo after he fucked your mouth; it was your fault the cock slipped out of your mouth anyway. The tip was lined up perfectly as he rubbed his cock until his load drenched your face. The translucent substance looked so pretty against your skin, giving it a soft glow that suited you. Eyes still shut as it coated your lashes; it created the perfect opportunity to form that photo. God you were perfect for him.

You felt his breathing even out the soft snores slowly releasing from his lips. It only ever happened when he was on his back trapped by you, for your own sleep you slipped away opting to face the window and the impending darkness that lingered. It never scared you, the unknown. The idea that something will happen to save you was one you clinged onto for comfort. You might have lost everything, became some mystery to the outside world but you knew your story wasn’t finished. Even if it was the reaper that came to write your final ending, that the darkness outside would sneak inside to take you away. Away from him. Unlike Leon the darkness didn’t scare you.

His whimpers woke you up, the sheets ripped from your body as he shot awake with a sense of urgency. You didn’t even get time to react to the blinding light as he turned on the lamp beside you. His frantic eyes scanned the room silently getting rid of any danger that lurked in the corners. Until they fell on you. Your body looked so small in the sheets, eyes slowly adjusting to the light as well as his panicked form. His hands shook as they touched you, holding your shoulder tightly. “Leon-”

You were cut off as he brought you into his arms, burying you in a hug. His scent intoxicated you, his skin layered with a sheen of sweat. You could feel him press kisses in the crown of your head, his mind using you as a grounding point. There was nothing you could do, you waited for his grip to loosen. The pain that flared along your skin was just a sign of more bruises to litter there in the morning. The tender spots would be hard to forget like always. Part of you felt sorry for him seeing him this affected by a dream. You would ask if there was anything more you could have done or if there was something in particular he needed.

He was a horrible man, one that has stripped you of the essence of yourself but no one should be hunted in their dreams. Having nowhere to escape in a vulnerable moment. It was only when his grip loosened you spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was normal to do that, he knew this. It's what normal couples do to comfort and talk to each other about what happened in their dreams, even the bad ones. He pulled away and looked at you, the sleep still lingered in your eyes. You slowly blinked them at him. He could tell you, perhaps in this state you would forget not to use his dream against him in the future. Allow a moment for his control to slip but that was riding on the fact you would forget. He knew you…you wouldn’t forget not with something like this. “You don’t need to worry about me” He spoke instead. It was strange to see the inner conflict so visible on your face as you had a silent conversation. You were never this expressive with him unless he was pounding his cock into you.

“Does it happen often?” You asked again. Leon nodded his already messy hair now falling over his face. “Tonight was the worst. In a long while at least”

You believed him, most of the time he woke up and snuggled back into you as if you being here actually helped him. Tonight however he jumped from bed, holding you desperately. It was different, the air had shifted. “I can make you tea tomorrow, it’s meant to help with sleep. I used to make it.”

Your offer wasn’t instantly rejected which surprised you, maybe his troubles with sleep were worse than he led on. Leon nodded again, a smile growing on his lips at your offer to even help him. Maybe it was slowly developing into something he wanted, that time alone with just him was enough to ensure you created a bond with him. “Is there anything in particular you need?” He questioned, the house was stocked and he made sure of it. The kitchen had shelves of herbs and spices, in those cute little house jars that he assumed you would like.

He didn’t tap into your devices for no reason after all, he wanted the perfect life for you. To spoil you with everything you wanted. He saw each little post you made online about how they made you feel, about how much you wanted to leave. Your pinterest boards filled with your dream items, the style you wanted, the hobbies or house decoration. He read it all like a book, like it was his daily news. It hurt you still didn’t notice or appreciate it all. “Valerian root, Lavender, Chamomile. I can forage for most of it, there might be some in the woods”

He nodded, his heartbeat was steady again, a united front to prevent you from seeing too much. You had already seen enough weakness. “I’ll see what I can do”

It was the next morning he approached you with the idea of going out further into the woods, you had told him the only one native was Valerian root. Also rumoured to be the most effective in achieving a deeper sleep. Leon would be lying if he said he didn’t feel unnerved with the idea of falling into a deep sleep, it had been so long since he’s not been plagued by nightmares and had a full body reset. Part of it felt nice, beginning to be able to just feel his muscles slightly looser in the morning. Maybe his head will be clearer and he’ll stop being so paranoid. He was aware of the effect lack of sleep had on a person – he just never had the ability to ease it.

It shocked him last night at your admittance to using the tea yourself. Since you have been living here there was no evidence of your bad sleep. Perhaps that was another thing he has helped you with – his presence next to you at night fighting the nightmares you have now forgotten about. It was an unknown privilege to you that he no longer had to leave for the longer missions. It had been months since he was called into office.

Leon knew how to make the activity harder since he insisted you held his hand the entire time. This was the compromise, he wanted you naked again – stripped bare so you wouldn't even think about leaving him. His hand was warm at least, a reminder that if you dared to edge closer to him you would feel the warmth of his body, a stark contrast from the morning frost. “I see why you like coming out here so much, the sun looks…magical” He spoke. You looked at him surprised to find his features relaxed, his eyes briefly closing just like he did yesterday evening. As if in his darkness the sun was his only light but now you caught him looking at you more, like you actually had an impact in his life. As if you helped him. If only you could know how.

Your eyes remained firmly on the ground once he caught you looking at him, blush creeping in on your features. It wasn’t that Leon was unattractive that’s what confused you. He was fine until you miss behaved, you’ve learnt which of his buttons not to push and which of his moods to avoid to make your life easier. And yet still, you longed for that boring job which gave you endless headaches. The small meaningless things in life that still somehow gave you joy. He took that from you. You have learnt how to live without it, yes but part of you still craves it.

“Your brain is working too hard again. Why?”

He tugged on your arm, pain flaring as his grip tightened to halt your movements. You blinked at him like a deer in headlights. “I–I was just thinking about you” Your voice was quite unsure like you were aware of the hole you were digging yourself into. “What about me?” His smirk was suggestive, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Blush coats your cheeks as you attempt to think of any form of answer. “Um…s–sex?” Was that the best you could come up with?

He barked a laugh, your response clearly pleasing him as his grip loosened slightly. “Never thought I’d see the day” His response was teasing. You felt your cheeks heat up, becoming flustered as you then began to actually think about him and sex. Heat pooling in between your legs. It wasn’t normal to feel like this, you shouldn’t. He was a horrible man – that’s all he should be left as.

“I’ve found some” You muttered after a short while, pointing at the white flowers that decorated the stem you needed. He nodded, taking the combat knife that always stayed strapped to his hip. The green hilt was frayed and damaged - evidence that he has had it for many years. He let go of your hand briefly, watching you with an intense stare before walking around to the side of the plant so he could still see you as he cut it. “It would be pointless running away whilst you are right next to me” You spoke. It had been a while since the both of you had spoken about your old habit. He shrugged, watching you more carefully now. “I wouldn’t put it past you”.

He was right, this was your first act towards loyalty that wasn’t just following his rules. You were optionally helping him, using your knowledge to treat him from unknown horrors to you. It was something he hadn’t expected from you. Not for a while anyway. “I like this. Being here. I just wish I could see or do more” You admitted. Leon nodded, perhaps it was time to allow you to have some freedoms that didn’t involve you sitting on the log opposite the house. Maybe you could learn how to sew or knit and begin filling the house with things that you made. Finally turning it into a loving home, warmth coming from something other than the fire that you both watched at night. You couldn’t tell what was going on through his head, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to. “It makes me happy to hear that” Was all he responded with accompanied with a gentler smile.

Your usual routine was pretty much the same, your outside time was cut short from the orange hues. He didn’t hold your hand this time, he allowed you to walk next to him without guidance. It felt nice to have this small display of trust but your fingers itched for the warmth of his. To feel the rough skin on his palms against yours.

After dinner, you boiled the water in the kitchen for you to make the tea, the valerian root was already grated ready for use. He watched as you prepared it, tasting it for yourself with a small sip on the side of the mug. Hands flickering over the spice jars to add what you thought it needed. You had a small smile when you presented it to him after dinner, the fire crackled behind the both of you. “We can go to bed when I start to feel sleepy” You nodded, understanding that he wouldn’t want you walking around the house whilst he slept. You still had to wake him up to let him know you were going to the bathroom at night. “And you are sure this will help?” He asked, swirling the liquid in the mug. It wasn’t like you could poison him, he had watched you prepare every step from where he sat at the table. “It should help you fall asleep. It won’t knock you out like a sleep med” You said, smiling softly.

That was a good thing he supposed, eliminated one of his fears. You both moved to the fire, sitting on the sofa watching the flames dance around each other. The wood burns brightly leaving only the embers and ashes. To his surprise you leant on his shoulder. You had never done this before; maybe it was because he was finally trusting you and in return you trusted him. He watched the shadows dance along your features, your hair falling on his shoulders. You felt him tug you closer, silently offering a sense of protection. “Why are you crying?” He whispered in your ear. You hadn’t even noticed you were, the tear was a silent scream from the inside that this enjoyment was wrong. You shouldn’t want to be near him and be held like this, but your longing for freedom was fading.

It has been so long since you have been held, being able to weep in someone else's arms, not the pillow you used at night. “I’m not sure” you whispered, sitting up straighter to look at him. To watch his reaction. Instead of anger or disappointment genuine care laced his features. The last time you saw this look was after one of the first escape attempts and you tripped over a log. Your cries of pain hurt him deeply back then, now they were just another sound to him. Most of them coming from his punishments anyway. “Maybe sleep will make you feel better” He cooed. You nodded, holding his hand optionally.

Leon felt the effects of your tea pretty quickly it seemed, his arm now dead weight against your waist. You watched the net curtain blow in the wind, the breeze that leaked through the small gap. You turned to face Leon, watched as the soft snores slipped through his partially open mouth. He was peaceful for once, nightmares that normally plagued him finally left him alone. Your finger poked at him, prodding him gently. He didn’t move, didn’t react. Normally his eyes opened immediately. He had never been a deep sleeper, you knew this from when you tried to chance an escape at night. Perhaps it could work this time.

The floor was cold against your bare feet but you took no notice as you began to creep out the room. The front door was now in sight, as you crept past the dying fire that had now reduced to embers: to you, this was the prettiest part of a fire, burning a bright red, waiting for the opportunity to ignite again with the right fuel. Nobody ever thinks to drown them out with water, they just assume that they’ll burn out on their own, but that's how most fires restart. It just takes the right conditions for it all to spark up again…

Your hand gingerly touched the freezing knob, turning it slightly. It was unlocked. This was your chance surely? A sign you could finally get a good enough headstart and escape or die somewhere in the woods. Finally get away from this place.

You couldn’t move, it felt too good to be true. The door was ajar, the cold breeze was harsh on your bare toes. You had finally settled here, everyone back home would have forgotten you by now. He would just find you again, he was a government agent. You couldn’t hide from someone like him. You would only be dragged back and your hard work to get him to trust you would be pointless. Your eyes glanced at his boots placed neatly next to the front door. The laces loose incase he needed to slip them on quickly. It didn’t take much to tug them out, holding the ribbons of fabric in your fingers. You closed the door, turning back towards the bedroom.

Heat and excitement blossomed in your stomach alongside the fire, which now had a new lease of life, rejuvenated by the breeze. As you sashayed through the bedroom door, you noticed Leon now lay on his back. His chest is still slowly rising and falling with his sleep. He didn’t wake when you sat back on the bed, your knees pressed against his chest nor did he when you began to tie his wrists to the bed frame. You didn’t care if the string bit into his skin, he could have marks like he gave you when he first did this. You looked at the permanent red bracelets that now decorated your skin. Maybe you could carve your name onto his chest, give him the same treatment as you gave him.

You felt the tears this time. What happened to you? You were just like him. Thinking of every way you could hurt him like he did to you. You weren’t any better.

Not ignoring the heat that pooled in your stomach you hovered above him before sinking on his lap, feeling his soft cock underneath you separated by the duvet and underwear. He was vulnerable like this. Just as you were before. When he took you all those months ago. Leon broke you into the person you were now. Your family wouldn’t want you back, not after him. Not with these ugly scars that now littered your body, his stupid initials branded onto you. You were his now, there was no point in denying it.

You moaned as you rubbed yourself along the length of him, feeling it harden even in his sleep. His need and reactions to your body only spurred you on more. There wasn’t anyone else that would react to you like he did; Made you feel like they needed you to just breathe. Your fingers shook as you pulled the fabric away, sliding his boxer along his legs exposing the length you now craved. Your eyes flicked towards his face, watching as his eyebrows pinched together slightly now his tip was exposed to the cold air but he didn’t wake. Your finger ran along the slit of it watching as beads of cum replaced the ones you wiped away. Even in his sleep he was desperate for you. Craving you. You slipped your underwear off, the nightdress discarded as well. The white fabric didn’t suit you anymore. Not after this.

You whimpered as you sunk onto him, feeling yourself stretch and mold to accommodate him. His hangs tugged at the laces you began to move, eyes blinking as he panicked. Leon’s groan was wonderful, they always were. You were in control, it was exciting. He was whimpering beneath you. Your hips continued to wake him up, the slow circles causing him to tug at the restraints until finally he stopped. You faltered as he stared at you, keeping eye contact with you as you continued. “What is this?” He said, a slow smirk beginning to grow on his features. “Have I corrupted you? Tainted your soul to be as dark as mine?”

You shook your head, the pleasure building up slowly as you continued to use him. He stopped tugging, stopped trying to break away. Eyes fluttering shut each time you lifted yourself along his cock only to slam it back down. “I thought you’d run away, finally get a head start but you finally figured out there was no point didn’t you”

You jumped as his hand caressed your thigh, it shouldn’t be there. It was…tied up. Leon’s eyes darkened as you looked back at his wrists. “You were so close, love but don’t fool yourself now” He chuckled. You sped up, trying to finish before he ripped it away. Your desperation only fuels him further, his hip joining yours in an onslaught of pleasure. He couldn’t have given you this slither of power. Once chance to finally take what you wanted. No. That would have gone to your head, made you think your plan worked. You used his weakness against him. The fight has never left you now. No matter how many times you told him it had. That he had broken you down to this weak person who wouldn’t betray him anymore.

“Please…just let me finish” You whimpered, you needed the release that was coming from your own doings. Your own pace. To enjoy the slither of freedom you gave yourself. He only smirked. “Leon– please”

“Such a whore now. Begging for your release. I know it’s because you gave it. You made it happen”

You whimpered again, nodding. Cursing yourself as your hips began to falter now the pleasure was getting too much, tethering yourself on the edge of overstimulation. “Such a whore for the bad man”

He stopped, his fingers gripped at your hips holding you in place. He couldn’t give you this, you would do it again and again. He’d rather suffer in his nightmare than allow someone else take control of his choices, his life. You were flipped onto the bed. Head dangling off the edge causing the blood to rush there. Leon was unforgiving in his pace, his pelvis hitting yours and it turned into pain. Each thrust felt like a spank. Your hands gripped at his, desperately holding on as you became fuzzy. He felt your orgasm, the force of it pushing his cock out harshly. “I was wrong to trust you, to think you were changing and understanding what I do for you”

You whimpered attempting to lift your head to look at him but his hand landed on your neck. Holding it in place. He was doing it wrong, crushing your windpipes instead of the blood circulation. You panicked squirming beneath. “After months we are right back where we started. If you had seen the things I have you wouldn’t. You would hide here like a good girl and be grateful for this. That you are alive to experience it”

Leon finished with a grunt, his hand closing around your throat as he fucked his cum into your over senstive pussy. When you finally raised your head he stared back at you, his eyes dark daring you to do something. It was tempting. To become this little brat he couldn’t contain. “Continue like this…and see where it gets you. You are already becoming twisted using me like that”

“Just took inspiration from you”

He didn’t appreciate the bite in your words. You watched his fingers twitch each digit clenching into a fist and then relaxing. Your hips hurt, your throat hurts. He had ruined you now, your soul and actions just as bad as his own. He wasn’t wrong. It just made it all the more exciting.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #death island leon

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truefandemonium · 21 hours ago

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Part 1/? of my Thanos xFem!Reader thirst fic (unrelated to my previously posted fic cover) Hope y’all enjoy and uhhhh keep an eye out for part two I guess? 😭 (this was written for @i-think-youre-a-work-of-art pls keep all replies and reblogs SFW thank you) also tagging @heavenlyraindrops Ty all for reading! 🫰

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Princess and the Pills (pt. 1/?)

Thanos xFem!Reader, fluff, angst, toxic!Thanos, but also sweet!Thanos, Nam-gyu abuse sksksks, SFW, some mild spicy talk, cuddling, uhhhh idr what else is in this part, drug use, swearing

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You hear him before you see him, and his butter smooth voice makes you wish you never turned around. “Señoríta,” he purrs, pulling his jumpsuit jacket collar higher around his neck. “I couldn’t help but notice— you’re all alone out here. Y’know, I could protect you.”

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you bite back, not looking to make any friends here. Least of all… this guy.

The man’s nose wrinkles in disbelief, his brows shooting upward. “Oh yeah? Well— we could still make a pretty good team. Keep each other safe, y’know?” His expression calms, and you find him… almost handsome with the small smile playing on his lips, sunlight dancing in his purple tipped hair from above. He continues with a growing smirk, “Keep each other warm.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes hard as you nudge past him, and you feel him practically cower from your touch as you do so, your shoulder knocking him backward a foot or two. “Whatever.”

Before you can completely remove yourself from his vicinity, you feel his warm hand wrap around your wrist, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to his furious eyes as he pulls you to face him.

You suck in a gasp at his proximity, his face only inches from yours as he studies you. His gaze flicks over your expression, down to your lips for a fraction of a second longer than anywhere else, and then back up to your eyes, where he narrows his own and lets go.

“Don’t forget you got a place to come running,” he assures you with a sniff, tipping his chin skyward. “I’m Thanos.”

“Thanos,” you repeat, taking your turn to look him over. “You got the infinity stones?”

Thanos’ eyes light up in amusement, and he nods, holding up his hand to begin counting off each painted finger. “Red, orange, yellow, green, I’m a legend, Thanos.” His smile after that seals the deal, and you decide to humor him.

“So what made you choose me, huh? To team up with?” you ask, crossing your arms. You didn’t understand it. He must want something from you. Why else would he seek you out?

“You kiddin’?” he snorts. “I’d have to be crazy not to snatch up the prettiest girl in this whole place.”

You roll your eyes again. Ah. “Right,” you say. “What about your buddy over there, hm? He seems pretty attached to you.” Your eyes fall over to the man shifting from foot to foot several yards away, pushing his greasy hair from his face to look toward Thanos.

“Wha— Nam-gyu? Nah, he aight,” Thanos says with a shrug, “But you?” He shakes his head before nodding to a silent rhythm and spouting a few lines of rap; “In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds…” His teeth shine in the sunlight as he grins and tugs the front of his jacket. “Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green LIGHT.” He dramatically spreads his arms above his head and shoots the sky a wide smile, looking back at you with a raised brow as he positions his finger and thumb into a tiny heart. “I. Like. You.”

You smack a hand over your mouth, a small giggle erupting from your chest. Laughter, but also… something else. Something warm, and fuzzy. You tamp it down and turn away, dropping your hand.

“Cute song,” you say quietly, dismissing him along with whatever feeling just rose in you.

“See you at the finish line, girly,” Thanos bids you farewell, waving one bejeweled hand before disappearing into the crowd.

You force the image of his endearing smile and buttery voice from your mind as you ready yourself behind the starting point and listen to the game rules.

Before the game starts, some maniac begins screaming about how everyone will die if they move during red light. Yeah, you think annoyedly, that’s how you get disqualified, idiot. Had this loser never played red light green light before?

“He on some crazy shit,” a familiar voice sounds over your shoulder. You turn to curl your lip at Thanos and shrug in agreement.

“He’s kinda right,” you say, itching to disagree with the purple haired rapper if only to see his eyes alight with fury again. “Though that ugly doll already told us all of this a minute ago.”

“How much you wanna bet he’s totally bonkers,” Thanos whispers to you, shifting closer to your side. You resist the urge to lean into the warmth he offers and instead square off, shooting him a sideways glare and nudging him away with your elbow.

“Quit distracting me,” you hiss, listening as the doll sings ‘green light’ melodically.

The man far in front of you screams to run and you obey, booking it forward several feet and hoping Thanos biffed it somewhere behind you.

Soon, you’re stuck at your fourth red light, and no one has been eliminated yet. Which is honestly— amazing. You remember playing this in school and there were kids that would throw tantrums after getting ‘out’ on the first turn.

And then something in front of you catches your eye.

“Is that a bee?” Thanos whispers dumbly from beside you. He’s stayed pretty much right at your side since the game started, and you’ve avoided his incessant blabbing successfully up until now.

“What?” you whisper back, staying carefully frozen.

Thanos chuckles. “The chick in front of you. She’s got a bee on her neck.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Surprised it couldn’t tell you’re the only flower around here.”

“Just leave it,” you scold him, but he calls out anyway.

“Hey, senorita!”

The girl shifts. “Huh?” she squeaks.

“You got a bee on ya,” Thanos giggles playfully as the girl wails and flails and screams and leaps until the bug is long gone. Casting a teasing smile at Thanos, she muses, “Huh. I moved! Guess I’m out—”

A sound rings out and echoes painfully in your ears, a hot spray hitting your face at the same time. You blink the dark liquid from your eyes in confusion, trying to figure out what just happened, and then you see the body.

A sharp inhale of breath prompts you to turn your gaze to the side, but you’re stopped by a scream.

“HOLD STILL!” the crazy man in front wails at you, his voice commanding attention. But it’s too late. People have seen it: the body of the girl in the sand, blood staining the ground around her.

Shrieks of fear echo around the courtyard as people begin running for the exit, frantic.

“They’ll shoot you if you move, just HOLD STILL!” the same man cries, his tone almost pleading now. It takes all of your willpower to stay upright and steady as the shots ring out one after the other. Screams of pain and horror cut short by loud bangs and splatters of blood.

Until all falls silent, and the rules are repeated over the loudspeaker. The man calling out to you speaks again after green light. No one moves.

“You have to move before the timer runs out or they’ll still shoot you!” he says, but you’re no longer listening.

You tip your head up from where you’d been watching the still body of the bee-girl, and look at Thanos instead. He’s trembling, his eyes wide and slightly glazed over as he stares at the corpse at his feet.

“We have to move,” you tell him as the light turns red once more, then green again. Your heart is in your throat. You don’t know why you’re bothering to talk with this psycho— you’re here to win. Well… now you’re here to survive.

But Thanos doesn’t even look at you. With his eyes still glued to the girl’s dead body, he scrambles at the crucifix around his neck, popping open the metal locket top and digging out a small colored pill.

His hands shake so violently that the crucifix tips, and several of his stash tumble out and into the bloody dirt below. Thanos curses, his voice breaking as he drops to his knees and begins frantically picking them out of the sand, stuffing one into his mouth in pure panic.

“Thanos,” you hiss, heart starting to stutter like it’s threatening to stop completely. “Move.”

He slams his eyes shut for a second as he bites down on the pill, his hands still shaking hard as he drops a few dirty pills back into his locket and snaps it closed.

“I can’t,” he whispers back, opening his eyes again, but unable to meet your gaze. You feel sick.

The kook in front of the group that’s leaving you behind yells for you to run, and you take off, ignoring the nagging voice telling you to drag Thanos along with you.

Time doesn’t feel right as the minutes tick down on the giant clock, but only a few rounds of the game have passed.

You feel like it’s been days under the hot sun, watching people die around you as you strive for an unreachable finish line. You force yourself not to wonder if Thanos made it— his body is probably lying in a pool of blood and mysterious colored pills thousands of yards behind you by now.

You clear your mind of him— of everything— as you run without fear. Pure adrenaline keeps your legs from buckling beneath you as your feet pound the earth, sweat trickling in rivulets down the sides of your face. Some from the heat and exertion— more from complete and utter terror.

You’re close to the finish line, now. Red light seems to drag on this time, and a man several feet in front of you is blasted directly in the head, showering you in gore.

You suck down lungfuls of air to keep your stomach from flipping as you listen for ‘green light’ and make your mad dash for the finish line.

As you dart out, someone trips and collapses hard in the sand just in front of you, body checking you off trajectory and sending you spinning. You yelp, shifting midair and falling back, having flipped a complete 180 degrees to face the back of the courtyard.

“Red Light.”

Shit.

Time slows as you make your descent, the sound of the doll’s whirring head turning to spot your movement the only thing you can hear.

But instead of the hard ground beneath you, followed by a gunshot, you feel a jolt as you’re caught by the front of your shirt and held in a vice grip. You don’t want to open your eyes, too afraid to see who saved your life. Maybe you’re already dead.

But you open them anyway, and you realize you left your heart in the sand with Thanos at the start of the game.

The rapper stares ahead, his brow knitted in concentration, his arm flexed and holding onto your jumpsuit firmly to keep you from landing on your back. You blink up at him in bewilderment. In confusion.

Why would he risk himself to save you after what you did?

But when he finally looks down at you, it makes sense. His brows bounce, shooting you that award winning smile with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Tag,” he giggles, his eyes wild and dangerous.

Yet somehow, you’ve never felt so safe.

As the green light sounds, he yanks you back to your feet hard, and you collide with his chest, hands coming up to brace you.

His strong hands grip either side of your upper arms, his lip stuck in a thoughtful pout as he stares into your eyes menacingly. He exhales slowly, eating up precious seconds of running time to curl his lip and let out a little growl. You can’t decipher his coded sounds, but relief floods you as the scouring expression disappears and he grabs one of your hands in his own, the unnaturally cheery demeanor back in full force.

“Let’s GO!” Thanos whoops, breaking into a run, clutching your hand like a lifeline as he drags you along with him toward the finish line.

You feel lighter than air as you’re pulled behind this crazed man, the sounds of gunshots broken up by his joy filled laughter. Only seconds before the final red light, you and Thanos explode over the painted white line at the end of the track, and stumble into the crowd. Battered by elbows from every direction, the two of you topple to the sand, limbs tangling as Thanos lands beneath you with a deep groan.

You wince as you land square on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and reveling in a soft grunt that leaves his lips.

“I— sorry,” you pant, your arms bracing you above him on either side of his head. Once recovered, Thanos smiles languidly, his eyes still glazy, but now unregistering and carefree.

One hand slides idly up and lands gently on your waist, his other arm sprawled out as he lies beneath you, apparently content. “No problem,” he coos, shaking his head once. “Didn’t even feel it.”

“No,” you choke, unable to form the words but acutely aware of hundreds of eyes on you in this moment. You want to apologize for leaving him. The reality of that choice feels like a death sentence, though you know you couldn’t have saved him anyway. “I'm sorry for… for ditching you.”

It ends with a question mark, and Thanos’ smile fades slightly. “Didn’t notice,” he rumbles numbly.

You’re about to ask— well, you’re not sure what, but you’re compelled to say a something, when a pair of feet appear above Thanos’ head, and you look up.

Nam-gyu looks down at the two of you, mouth hanging open as he drags his gaze over your compromising position. “Huh,” he muses. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Nam-su!” Thanos belts out, his face breaking back into a buzzed grin. He starts to get up, inadvertently knocking you into the dirt and you tamp down the small amount of hurt at his sudden indifference to you.

The men embrace, Nam-gyu eyeing the cross necklace around his friend’s neck with a hungry gaze.

“It’s Nam-gyu,” he corrects passively, wincing as Thanos shoves him off and proceeds to leap in the air a few times.

“AY, we did it, my friends! First game: SUC-CESS!” the purple haired man whoops, his brown eyes nearly disappearing in the black of his dilated pupils. He cuts his words into multiple pieces, like he’s trying to put emphasis on as much as possible for the shock value.

It makes your stomach flutter against your will: the way his voice pitches high and then falls again, his teeth flashing in the sunlight and contrasting sickeningly with the spatter of crimson on his cheek.

Maybe that’s what’s making your belly hurt: the blood. So much blood. You make the mistake of looking down and find your shoes painted with the stuff. Bright red stains that will eventually fade to a dull brown that you wouldn’t even be able to identify if you hadn’t known the people it had come from.

“Hey, you okay?” That slimy voice sounds in your ear and you look up with a grimace, locking eyes with Nam-gyu and feeling yourself squirm under his scrutiny.

“She’s fine,” Thanos interrupts before you can spew all over Nam-gyu’s shoes, knocking into your side and throwing one arm over your shoulders. He tugs you flush against his side, under his arm and you’re surprised to find the musk permeating his jumpsuit is… nice. Sweat, sure, but also a lingering cologne and the strong smell of fresh ink, which strikes you instantly as odd but incredibly pleasant.

Of course a faint smoky scent remains on his skin, but you don’t pull away quite so quickly from his touch this time.

He turns to grin down at you, eyes half lidded. “Right, jagiya?”

In an attempt to quell the hammering of your heart, you nudge Thanos off of your shoulder and shoot a glare at Nam-gyu, successfully diverting his wolfish gaze back to the ground.

“Yeah, I don’t need either of you jerks, so just leave me alone,” you snap, brushing sand off your knees and trying to take calm breaths, though it’s hard with so many dead bodies lying only feet from you.

Thanos rumbles a laugh. “Yeah, you won’t be saying that for long, sweetheart. Come find my bunk if you get lonely.” You narrow your eyes over your shoulder, hating that his wink and heart gesture combo make you almost double over in adoration before you look away.

You find yourself drawn to the corners of the sandy arena, as far away from anyone else as you can possibly get, but that’s not much because most everyone made it through the game, so you’re surrounded by nearly 400 people at least.

Still, you sit in the corner until the guards lead you back to the large room, and you follow numbly, head aching and stomach still clenched in disgust and horror at what you witnessed. You’re surprised Thanos was so… okay with what happened right in front of him, until you remember the pills. How happy they made him almost instantly.

You’re almost jealous. But more than that, you’re sad for him.

You can’t seem to avoid him, because as soon as you’re all back in the gathering room full of bunk beds, he’s there, sauntering up the stairs in your direction.

“Hey, senorita,” he coos, his eyes watery and big like a puppy’s. “Room for one more?” You’re startled out of a bit of a daydream of returning back home and leaving all this behind, and Thanos is sitting on the other side of your bunk bed with a smirk. Nam-gyu frowns, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at the way they resemble a pair of idiot circus clowns.

“Two more,” he says, shooting daggers in Thanos’ direction.

Thanos doesn’t hear him, nodding his head to a song you can’t hear as you ignore the both of them and stare down at your bagged bread and bottled soda.

Nam-gyu sits solemnly on the steps by your feet, his eyes dragging over you like a snake flicking his tongue to taste the air, and you pull your legs onto the bed in fear.

After a few minutes of silence, you hear a soft hum. You jump hard at Thanos’ hand nudging your own, his eyes full of genuine concern as he lifts your hand holding the packaged bread toward your lips. “Hey, eat up, c’mon,” he urges in a low tone, serious. “A passed out Princess ain’t no good to us,” he teases, his teeth flashing again. His eyes flick down to your unzipped hoodie as he adds, “Sure would be pretty, though.”

You immediately set your food in your lap and zip your tracksuit up, turning your face away. Screw him. And his stupid, weird friend. These guys were junkies, and nothing more. Thanos has NOTHING to offer you, least of all protection in this madhouse. Why believe a word he says?

Because he needs someone to, your mind whispers. You shut your eyes as if that will help make everything go away, silence those thoughts that ring so true.

And you only open them to find Thanos has set half of his own bread in your hand, emptying his soda as he makes his way toward the crowd to vote.

…

It’s that psycho again. Screaming. Grabbing someone and insisting that you all vote to leave.

You want to understand his desperation, but… you have nothing back home. If you return without that money, you’ll be a dead woman anyway.

Your eye lingers on the blue button as the guards break up the fight and order everyone to vote without further conversation between players.

You’re going in order from last to first: 456 taking his turn to hit the red button and stand alone on the far side of the room. You glance at your own number for the first time and realize you’re just ahead of Thanos: 231. Hiding from him, you wait for your number to be called.

You vote when it comes time, pressing the blue ‘O’ with shaky hands and turning around to face the gathered crowd. Two sides: red and blue. Life and death, only not so black and white. To people like you, desperate slobs in more debt than you could ever pay off in a lifetime, voting to leave would be a death sentence.

456 stares you down as you walk with a certain shame toward the blue side, his brown eyes boring into your flesh like flames. He wants you dead, most likely. You don’t look up until you feel a strong hand wrap dexterous fingers around your bicep and your head whips up.

Thanos is there, on his way to the voting buttons, a wicked smile spread across his sharp features. His nails dig into your arm, not enough to hurt you, but a reminder of his closeness. A reminder of his presence. The safety he promises.

And he mutters, “Good girl.”

Your heart is in your throat. You can’t breathe as he releases you and struts the rest of the way to the podium to vote, and you realize that this is the first time you haven’t pulled away from his touch.

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