#because it's time for some light flirting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doctorho · 2 days ago

Text

dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably.

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them.

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit.

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes.

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly.

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again.

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is.

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her.

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening.

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar.

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next.

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh.

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.”

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?”

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually.

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue.

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?”

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him.

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure.

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink.

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave.

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to.

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen.

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much.

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason.

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment.

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver.

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.”

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence.

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in his brain purrs at the idea.

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his.

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him.

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains.

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?”

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking.

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more.

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?”

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.”

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer.

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up.

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party.

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too.

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic.

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?”

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him.

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.”

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter.

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement.

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere.

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action.

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back.

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon.

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this.

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history.

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger.

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him.

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug.

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine.

He grins against your skin.

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr.

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine.

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more.

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him.

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more.

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

He swallows. “Yes.”

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you.

“Better keep quiet, then.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x fem!reader #viktor x female reader

254 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 10 hours ago

Text

blue — fushiguro megumi.

As you walked hand in hand through the snow, Fushiguro Megumi felt like your warmth and his blended together, refusing to part as you made your way away from the shrine. The thought of that made him feel like the winter was nothing, the biting chill rendered powerless against the steady heat of your presence. It was the kind of moment that made the world feel smaller and quieter. It was as if the universe had decided to go on a pause just for the two of you. It was as if these two hands were meant to fit because destiny said so.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: AFAB! Reader, Safe For Work (SFW), Long Distance Romance (LDR), Aged Up Characters (Megumi and Reader are 18!), Young Love, Innocent Romance, Established Relationship, Middle School Classmates to Lovers, Teasing, Teenagers, Feelings, Fluff, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Humor, Domesticity, Slice of Life, Light-Hearted, Confessions, Pining, Holding Hands;

WORD COUNT: 5.3k words.

NOTE: im a bit late, i'm sorry!!! i had a whole list of chores i helped my family with and i met up with some people yesterday, since i might not see them for christmas due to schedules. but i'm here. i always imagined megumi to be the sort of person who loves so wholeheartedly and so innocently. i wanted to capture that for his birthday. happy birthday, megumi!!! you will always be so loved by me <33333 i love you all too!!! thank you for reading!!! see you for yuuji's own fic on 24th <3 (asia time)

addendum: i just want you to know that the exact number of the words are 5302. chinese/cantonese numerology expresses that 53 means my life, 0 means good and 2 means joy and sometimes double joy. it reads as 'my life is good joy' and i think between them reader and megumi, that's genuinely true <333

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THE DARK BLUE SWIRLED AROUND THE SKY TENDERLY TONIGHT. Had there been more time, he would have enjoyed it more. But he knew there wasn’t. He had to get to you, immediately. He bit his lip softly against the cold winter wind.

Fushiguro Megumi tugged the bright tender scarf tighter around his neck as the frigid wind bit at his cheeks. He caught a faint whiff of the fabric, and something about the scent felt... off.

It’s a good scent, don’t get him wrong. But it wasn’t the familiar one he was used to. Had he bought a new perfume and just forgotten about it?

He sighed to himself. He was too busy lately, going off on missions. And now a lot of his life had become footnotes, even if he didn’t want them to be. Megumi knew he had to do better.

He had to do whatever he could to make a better pace for himself. Still, thinking about that right now is impossible. He had to brush the thought aside. There were more pressing things to focus on—like how late he was. Again.

Megumi could only hope that you weren’t waiting too long or that you had arrived late. But now he can’t help but think if you wore that thick Arc'teryx coat he’d gotten you. Or if you wore mittens or had enough hot packs on your body at this moment. Guilt started to echo into his head as easily as it was breathing. But he can’t help but feel that.

He took a moment to breathe, his breath visible in the cold air. He hated being late about absolutely anything. He likes punctuality, after all. But he especially likes it when it comes to you.

Because that meant he’d have more time with you. And more time with you means that he’d have you with him enough to sweep the thought of missing you for a little while.

But being a sorcerer, the job description didn’t care about holidays or plans. Or even the personal, the thoughts and moments that made one happy. It just never stops. Not even when he was supposed to take you out on a date on New Year’s Eve. Megumi absolutely reviled it. If he saw a curse, he had to deal with it, no matter the time.

And somehow, some sort of way, still, he knew you understood. You always did. You always reassured him of that no matter what. No matter how many times his responsibilities pulled him away from you, even just for five minutes.

You never stopped smiling when he finally showed up. You don’t stop having the warmest red on your cheeks when you see him. Your eyes always shone brighter than Sirius when you both stand beside one another.

Even though you weren’t a sorcerer yourself, you tried to understand his world, even the parts that didn’t make sense to you at all. It wasn’t fair to you, and he knew it. Yet, no matter how hard things got, you never gave up on him. You just didn’t want to, even when he had tried to keep you at bay.

That was one of the things he appreciated most about you. Megumi had never had quite a lot of joy in his life, but he was to be honest, you were one of them. You always will be. And even now, you stand by him, even if it’s hard.

You didn’t care for the hard stuff, you always said it was part of it. Because what mattered to you, was having him in your life. And he was certain he felt the same way about you.

Well, it’s obvious.

Why else would he start running in this cold winter weather?

If it’s you, the person he loved most, then he’ll find a way?

After all, he wanted to be with you for as long as possible.

He paused for a moment, staring at the message. The small emoji made something in his chest tighten, as much as it made his body feel the warmest it had ever been. Despite everything, you still cared enough to wait for him, to worry about him. A small, rare smile tugged at his lips.

The faint vibration of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He fished it out of his pocket, his cold fingers fumbling slightly as he unlocked it. A text from you lit up his screen:

“Megu, baby, where are you? 🥺”

Megumi stared at his phone after hitting send, watching the little delivered mark appear. Megumi has thought about how many times he’d sent similar texts, always apologizing to you, for more often than he hoped, about being late.

He typed back quickly, his fingers stiff from the cold.

"On my way, babe. Sorry for being late."

Yet, you never seemed to hold it against him. He wished you had. Most romantic partners would be so fed up with such a position.

Hell, most of them would have already left their partners. But not you. You never had thought of it, not even during middle school, when Gojo started to take him on his missions to observe. You were steadfast, because you saw his efforts. You saw how much he loved you.

And that was enough. He never had to doubt that you loved him. And perhaps, that’s why he kept running. He wanted to get to you, as soon as possible. He wanted to see you. He wanted to hold you in his arms. He wanted to love you.

As he slipped his phone back into his pocket, Fushiguro Megumi picked up his pace. He had to. He had to arrive as soon as possible. For once, he hoped the world could hold its chaos at bay. Just for tonight. He owed you that much. He owed you all of the world. And he had to make it possible, even if just for a little while.

His phone buzzed again almost immediately.

“Okay, but you better hurry, baby! It’s cold! Also… why does your scarf smell like my perfume? 🤔”

Megumi stopped in his tracks, his brain processing your words at a glacial pace. Your perfume? His hand instinctively went to the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. That was the weird smell he’d noticed earlier—the soft, floral notes he’d never associated with his usual scarf. His mind raced. If this was your perfume, then this wasn’t his scarf.

It’s your scarf. The realization hit him like a curse to the chest. Now, his heart was thumping hard on his chest. You must’ve grabbed his scarf by mistake in a rush the last time you visited him and you forgot about it.

And now that left him with your scarf. And he hadn’t noticed at all. His face heated to warm scarlet instantly, the cold air doing nothing to cool it. Ah, this is…..

His grip on the phone tightened as he read your words. Cute. It was hard enough to deal with how much warmth you give him with your scarf, but the thought of you being so tender with him, loving to the point that he can’t take it.

Before he could come up with a reply, another message came through:

“Wait, Megu!… Are you wearing my scarf? 🥺 That’s so cute! Wah!”

He doesn’t know what to do. Everything about his love for you just grows deeper and he can’t help it. His face burned hotter, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the soft fabric around his neck.

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing back:

"I didn’t realize until now. I must’ve grabbed it by accident. Sorry."

Fushiguro Megumi felt like the temperature had risen ten degrees despite the snow swirling around him. He tried to clear his throat, trying to wick away the scarlet blush spreading across his cheeks. But it was no use. He was never going to win against you. Never.

Your reply came almost instantly, as though you’d been waiting for it.

“Don’t apologize! I think it’s adorable. It’s like you’re carrying a little piece of me with you 🥰.”

"It’s not a big deal." he typed, trying to sound indifferent, but his fingers betrayed him as he hesitated before adding: "It does smell nice, though."

His phone buzzed almost immediately. “You’re so sweet, Megu! You better hurry so I can see you all bundled up in my scarf. I want to take a picture and enjoy the cuteness of my baby!🫶 ”

Fushiguro Megumi let out a soft groan, burying his face in the scarf—your scarf. He takes in the soft smell of your scent, while feeling your words take over him. He could feel the heat radiating from his face as he resumed walking, this time a bit faster.

He can’t run in this case, not when he’s overwhelmed by this, by you. You’ve ruined him for any other romance. This was it for him. You were it for him. And yet still, he couldn’t believe he was blushing over a scarf. Over you.

But that’s how it is. It didn’t need explanation, it didn’t need logic. That’s how it is to love you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not ever. But still, as much as possible, he still wanted to play it cool.

There was a wonderfully warm feeling in his chest that he couldn’t ignore, not when it’s caused by you. Even if it was accidental, wearing your scarf made him feel closer to you, like he was carrying a part of you with him.

"I’ll be there soon, babe." he texted back simply, though his heart was racing as he hit send.

“I look forward to it! 🫶”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Love you, Megu~”

".....love you too."

══════════════════

IT WASN’T THAT LONG NOW WHEN HE MADE THE SHARP TURN TO AND ARRIVED. The faint glow of the shrine came into view, and quite expectedly, Fushiguro Megumi’s pace quickened even more now despite the biting cold.

His own breath puffed in little warm clouds as he rounded the last corner, and there you were, just like always, waiting for him by the warm illumination of the bright red shrine gates.

You seemed to be humming to yourself as you waited for him, all bundled up in the white winter coat he gave you and those bright purple gloves trimmed with faux fur you so dearly loved. You hadn’t noticed him yet when he stopped.

But when you did, your eyes widened almost so excitedly. There was a slightly excited bounce in your step as you waved at him enthusiastically, your beautiful face lighting up like the warm spring flowers blossoming when you started to register his presence. Megumi could feel his chest tightened at the sight.

The stress of trying to get here on time, the hardship of not meeting, the times he missed you — every bit of that started to fade away into nothing. He was here with you. You were here. And nothing can take that away from him, from the two of you. Because he knew it too well. He was home.

“Megu!” you called out, your tender voice cutting through the quiet winter air.

He slowed as he approached, his usual calm demeanor taking over, but the pink sunrise on his cheeks hadn’t faded. Megumi tried to casually stuff his rather cold hands into his coat’s pockets, pretending the cold was the only reason his face felt warm.

“You’re late, Megu!” you teased, though your tone was playful, and that familiar smile spread across your face.

“Sorry.” he said quietly, stopping just a few feet away. “There was a—”

“A curse?” you finished for him, watching him blink. You grinned. “I figured. You always come anyway.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering to the shrine gates. “I told you to wait here for a reason. It’s safer.”

“I know, I know.” you said, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “I always know that I’m always safe, thanks to you. But I’m also freezing, so I hope you don’t plan to keep me standing here much longer! Let’s eat dinner!”

Your grin widened as your bright doe eyes flicked to the scarf around his neck. “Especially since it looks like you’re nice and warm in my scarf.”

Megumi’s hand immediately went to the fabric, his ears turning red. “I told you, it was an accident.” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“And I told you, it’s cute.” you said, stepping closer.

“You’re wearing my scarf too.” He mutters under the cold winter air.

You looked down slightly, your cheeks flushing red as you smiled. “Hm! And I love it! It suits me, having a part of you with me always when I’m cold, don’t you think?”

Megumi was taken aback by what you said for a moment. His cheeks turned even redder, even though he wasn’t sure how it was possible. He hums softly, lowering his gaze shyly. “.....It does.”

The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound as you closed the distance between you. You smiled at him as you stopped in front of him. You reached up, on tip toes and gently adjusted your scarf around his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin for just a moment.

“It suits you, don’t you think?” Your soft voice blossomed against the wind. Your gaze met his, as he raised his face. “Being so loved by me in winter cold too.”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat at the gesture. “You’re—you really are…..” he mumbled, though his voice was quieter, almost fond. “How can you say that so easily?”

“And you’re blushing, lover boy!” you teased, stepping back with a playful laugh. “You also said something like that too!”

“Am not.” he replied quickly, though the redness in his cheeks betrayed him.

“Whatever you say, my precious Megu~”

You reached out and took his hand, your gloved fingers curling around his as you tugged him toward the shrine gates. You wanted to keep his hand warm from the cold too. He forgot his gloves, after all. And he knew that, his gaze turning to your tender touch on his, even though the leather.

“Come on, let’s get going before we both turn into icicles.”

For a moment, Fushiguro Megumi hesitated, looking down at your hand wrapped tightly on his own. Years together still hasn’t stopped him from being so awestruck by your touch on his.

To hold someone’s hand, it made him feel like he understood what love was like. Ever since that day he met you. You made him understand, with just a touch of your hand. And still, he continues to learn love, because of you.

Megumi shook his head then he let out a soft sigh, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile as he followed you.Even if he’d never admit it aloud, your warmth, your wonder, your very existence, it made him whole.

And if this was a dream, he wishes he never wakes up. Because nothing of him would exist without you. He refuses to do so.

“Hm, let’s go.”

It was the kind of moment that made the world feel smaller and quieter.

It was as if the universe had decided to go on a pause just for the two of you.

It was as if these two hands were meant to fit because destiny said so.

This, he thought, was more than enough to ground you both in the stillness of the winter night. The two of you ceased to talk for a while, your breaths forming soft clouds in the frosty air.

Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. The quiet companionship you shared was enough, an unspoken understanding that words could never quite capture.

It was always like this with you. There was a gentle kind of closeness that didn’t demand anything more than your presence. It wasn’t loud or extravagant, but it was steady.

That was more than enough for him, to keep him grounded in a way nothing else could. Megumi didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t have to rush to fill the gaps, because you already understood. It was just like that between the two of you.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noting the way the soft glow of the blue moonlight reflected off your hair and the peaceful expression on your face. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading slowly but surely, chasing away whatever lingering shadows had tried to follow him here.

Megumi’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, his way of acknowledging what he couldn’t yet say aloud. This, he thought, was the kind of peace he didn’t know he needed. And for tonight, that was more than enough.

When you both arrived at the train station, the warmth of the moment lingered despite the cold metal benches and the faint whistle of the wind echoing through the platform. The faint hum of distant activity surrounded you, but it all felt muted, like the world had softened its edges just for the two of you.

You both sat down to wait for the train, your hands finally parting as you settled beside each other. Fushiguro Megumi shifted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and looking out at the empty tracks.

The silence between you was comfortable, but you broke it, your voice cutting through the cold like the first hint of sunlight after a long night.

You looked up at him with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Megu.”

He froze for a moment, blinking as if he hadn’t quite heard you. Slowly, he turned his head to meet your gaze, his brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

You giggled, the sound warm and light as you looked at his astonished face. “Happy birthday, I said.” you repeated, your smile widening.

His expression softened as realization washed over him. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He shook his head, as you looked at his most adorable expressions, reserved only for you.

“I forgot, babe.” he admitted quietly, glancing away.

“I know, baby.” you said, your tone teasing but gentle. “You always forget. That’s why I’m here to remind you.”

He didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the tracks ahead. But the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, barely there but unmistakable. He turns his blue–green eyes to you, as though you were the most wondrous thing he’d ever set his blue–green eyes on.

“Thanks, babe.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. You always were better at wrapping presents. You had the best hands in the world, warmest to touch and the most delicate with care. And perhaps that is what made him freeze for a moment.

“And because I know you’d never ask for anything, I got you this.”

He looked at the gift, his eyes widening slightly. “You didn’t have to—”

“But I wanted to, baby.” you interrupted, holding it out to him. “It’s your birthday, Megu. You deserve to feel special, even if it’s just a little.”

He hesitated before taking the gift from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. He stared at it for a few seconds, his expression unreadable, before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper.

Inside was a small, leather keychain engraved with his initials on it. Attached to it was a simple charm shaped like a wolf, a perfect reflection of his shikigami. Megumi stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing over the smooth leather and the delicate charm. It was clear you’d put thought into this, making sure every detail would suit him.

Everything about it was just to his liking. You always knew it better than him sometimes too. Its design is sleek and understated, free from unnecessary embellishments, yet carrying so much meaning.

It was practical, simple, and deeply personal, just like him. And yet, the simplicity is what made it even more special, just like he knew he was to you.

“You… put a lot of thought into this, babe.” he said softly, his voice tinged with something unspoken, something he wasn’t entirely sure how to express.

You smiled, a faint flush rising to your cheeks. “Of course I did. I wanted it to be something you’d actually use. And… well…. I thought the wolf was a nice touch.”

“It is.” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the charm.

His shikigami were a part of him, a symbol of his strength and the weight he carried in his cursed technique. But they were something he loved too. Especially his wolves. And now, here it was, captured in this small but significant token by you. Now it meant even more. Because you gave it to him. Now, it was something he could keep with him no matter where he went.

“Do you like it?” you asked, almost shyly.

Megumi looked up at you, and though his expression remained its usual calm, there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart flutter. “I do, babe.” he said simply, but the quiet sincerity in your boyfriend’s voice spoke volumes. “Thank you.”

“I thought it could keep you company, when you’re away.” you said softly, watching him closely. “You’re always busy helping people and running around. You keep doing so much for everyone else. I wanted to give you something you could keep with you, something to remind you…”

He glanced up at you, his blue–green eyes meeting yours. “Remind me of what?”

“That you’re never really alone.” you said simply, your voice filled with quiet sincerity. “That I’m always there for you, Megu.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his fingers tightening slightly around the keychain. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. And for a moment, those rare smiles, the smiles he could only show you. You, his most precious person. That smile had trailed on his lips for a moment.

“Thank you, babe.” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—gratitude, maybe, or something even more profound that he didn’t quite know how to put into words. “I’ll treasure this well, I promise.”

You smiled, leaning back against the bench as the distant sound of the approaching train reached your ears. “Happy birthday, Megu.” you said again, your tone warm and light, your words laced with genuine affection. And then, as naturally as breathing, you added, “I love you.”

The words were simple but carried a weight that made Fushiguro Megumi’s heart stutter. He froze for a moment, wide-eyed, his usual composure shattered like glass under the heat of your confession. He’d always heard you say it over and over again. And yet…..it always made him feel like he was going to drown in your wonders.

He couldn’t help but feel himself combust with your words, the warmth spreading from his chest to his ears, and then outward until he was sure he’d melt into this cold blue winter night. Before he could even begin to stammer out a response, you squeezed his hand, your smile never fading.

“Our train’s here! We gotta go!”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, glancing at the train now pulling into the station. You tugged him forward, your fingers laced with his, as if the moment hadn’t just turned his world upside down.

Megumi let out a soft sigh, a mix of exasperation and fondness, as he let you guide him toward the train. His blue–green eyes drifted to the keychain in his hand, its wolf charm catching the dim station light, and then to the scarf around his neck.

The warmth of your scarf, still carrying your faint, comforting scent. For someone who often felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders, tonight felt light. For tonight, everything just felt like a gift. The greatest gift in the world.

The train doors slid open with a gentle hiss, and you both stepped inside, settling into a pair of seats by the window. As the train began to move, Megumi finally found the courage to speak, his voice quieter than usual.

“You’re ridiculous, you know?” he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

You tilted your head, looking at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

His cheeks flushed again, and he turned his gaze to the window, watching the snow-covered scenery blur past. “You can’t just… say things like that so casually and just….watch me combust.”

“Oh, you mean when I said I love you?” you replied with a grin, clearly enjoying his reaction.

Megumi groaned, pressing a hand to his temple. “Yes. That.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But it’s true, Megu!” you said, your voice softer now. “I do love you, truly! And I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you over and over again.”

He was silent for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as your words settled over him like the softest blanket. Finally, he glanced down at you, his blue–green gaze steady despite the pink still dusting his cheeks.

“…I know.” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

And though he didn’t say it back to you, overwhelmed by the wonders of those words on his soul, you knew that look in his eyes. That look of love, that wonder in the blue–green that said those words without leaving his lips.

It was all in his eyes that said everything you needed to hear. He struggles. But he hopes one day, he could say it to you without the struggle.

You smiled to yourself, your gloves gone. You let your warm fingers still intertwine with his as the train rocked gently beneath you. He squeezed it even more and that had made you smile even more as you looked at him.

You hummed and leaned your head against his shoulder. His breath hitches before a moment later, his head resting on your own. You giggled at that.

Tonight was perfect, you thought. Just the two of you, wrapped in warmth, as the world outside continued its quiet, snowy journey. And all you could see was the tenderness of all those shades of blue. That’s what it felt like when you were with him.

Everything was worth it. The cold was worth it. And so was the parting and the waiting. As long as you get to be with him and have this feeling of blue. As long as you could see those blues in his eyes.

Everything was worth it. Everything was worth experiencing. And you knew from the depths of his heart that he felt the same way too. Blue was the wonder of being with you. And he loves it too.

══════════════════

epilogue

Later that night when you reached your house, the warmth of the entryway light spilling into the snowy night, you turned to Megumi with a thoughtful smile. He noticed the way your bright eyes sparkled.

It was a sign you were about to say something that might throw him off. He was familiar with that look since you were in middle school. But every time, he finds himself learning the depths of that mischief in your eyes.

“So…” you began, glancing up at him with a hint of mischief. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Fushiguro Megumi nearly tripped over his own feet. His handsome face turned a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, and he froze in place, his free hand holding your bag for you. You can see easily that he was clutching it nervously.

“W-What?” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “Why—what—why would you even—?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, watching him flounder. “It’s late, Megu!” you said, your tone as calm and reasonable as ever. “The buses aren’t running anymore, and so are the trains, you know! I’d feel bad making you walk all the way back to the dorms in this cold.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand, cutting him off before he could get a word in. You already knew that you had a card up your sleeve. You grinned at him and giggled, taking out your phone from your coat pocket and showing it to him.

“And before you say anything about it being improper or whatever.” you added with a knowing grin, “I already asked Gojo–san if it was okay.”

Megumi’s face somehow turned even redder, and his hand shot to his temple like he was trying to ward off a headache. He looked at your phone for a moment.“You asked Gojo?”

You nodded, looking far too pleased with yourself. “Yup! He said, and I quote, ‘As long as you don’t let Megumi brood in a corner all night, I’m fine with it! Take care of my precious son, daughter in law!’”

Fushiguro Megumi groaned, running a hand down his face. What did Gojo mean precious son? And what did Gojo mean about daughter in law? That was just….

Megumi didn’t know what to do anymore. He can’t even believe Gojo gave his number to you. He couldn’t help but feel his face echo a look of a son embarrassed by his overbearing father.

“Why would you even tell him that? Now he’s never going to let me live this down.”

You laughed, tugging gently on his hand to lead him inside. “Oh, come on. He didn’t care at all. Besides I had to, he’s your guardian! He said he’d rather you stayed somewhere warm and safe than out in the cold. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t hung out late before. We’d have sleep overs before too.”

“That’s different.” he muttered, still flustered as you closed the door behind him.

“How is it different?” you teased, tilting your head at him.

He hesitated, glancing at you and then away, his ears burning. “It just… is. I just…..”

You rolled your bright doe eyes playfully and reached up to unwrap your scarf—now his own scarf—from around his neck. “Relax, Megu. It’s not a big deal. You can have the couch if it makes you feel better. Or the guest room. I don’t think my mom will mind when she comes back! She loves you too!”

He sighed, letting you take the scarf off but avoiding your gaze. “Fine, fine.” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll….I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You grinned, your victory clear. “Come on, I think I still have some of your old clothes I took from you. I’m sure they still fit you.”

“You never returned that hoodie I used to like.”

You raised a teasing brow at him. “Do you want it back?”

“No.” He says back to you, and looks at his own scarf on your neck too. “You can keep the scarf too.”

“Good. Now come on, I’ll make some hot chocolate. Consider it a bonus birthday gift.”

As you walked toward the kitchen, Fushiguro Megumi stood there for a moment as he watched you start humming, looking for the cocoa. He let out a quiet sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself.

He was definitely going to hear about this from Gojo Satoru later, but for now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was with you. And that was more than enough for him to not care about the world outside.

79 notes · View notes

amphitriteswife · 23 hours ago

Text

Next level

Tagging: @yue-yolk

Warnings: Nsfw

Note: shit post

Pairing: Jaegyeon na x reader

Jaegyeon gripped his steering wheel tightly. It was late in the night, yet no sign of the city dying down. That’s Incheon for you, always busy and full in swing. He drove along side the busy streets, flashy bright lights along the roads and the sight of the night clubs coming out from their hiding spit emerged in his vision. He sighs. He hated you, has he ever told you that? You’re so irresponsible. You always act to high and mighty around the other kings. You fight so well and conquer every city you can. You can have it all yet you chose not to just because it takes too much work? And what do you do instead? Party. You party and drink, you meet some guy and flirt, or not. Jaegyeon parked his car far away from the busy red light streets. He doesn’t want anything to happen to Initial N after all. His hand twirling the keys around his fingers while he walked up the street. He doesn’t even know these clubs. They’re probably all boring anyway. Why do you go to these places? You can do so much better. He let out another sigh before walking down the stairs to the club. The hostess by the stand already pointing to your booth. His steps feel heavy. The dim light and loud atmosphere is making him a little irritated. He could see your silhouette from the distance. Lace dress, high heels, make up, loose hair. You’re always so different than when you fight. You’re cold, mean, strong and business like. But now, seeing you in a booth with other girls and boys, laughing while you drink some cheap alcohol one of those randoms bought you, the way you laugh at them. It seems so strange. Yet it’s not new to him no matter how many times he has seen it before. It’s always the same old song with you.

He looks at you, then your table, then the others at the table and back at you. You tell them you have to go and the people in your booth all whine, telling you you can stay a little longer, have another drink, it’s all fun. You tell them no in a half joking voice and grab Jeagyeon by the arm. You cling to his side and he guides you to his car. He talks to you once again. His hands on your frame to keep you from stumbling, you flirt with him, forgetting that the two of you hate each other’s guts. You say you’re cold and lean into his body, your hands brushing over his chest and shoulders. Your sweet voice fills his ears telling him everything he wants to hear from you. You tell him a bunch of lies. Well, maybe half lies. He tries to get you to sit in the car and buckled your seatbelt then walks to the driver’s seat, after Jaegyeon takes his own seat he already noticed that yours is off again, he watched you comes closer to him and sit in his lap. He sighs for the 3rd time that day. He holds you by the hips again and tells you no. You lean into his face and kiss him, he lets you kiss him. He lets you suck and lick his lips. He lets you open up his mouth to let your tongue slide in. He allows it and kissed you back, he knows he shouldn’t, but he’s still doing it. You grab his shirt and pull it off his body, he breaks the kiss and lets you sit in his lap while he drives you to the nearest yet best hotel he knows. He once again books the same room, same floor, same number, same service he always gets when he’s with you. He guides you to the room, you pull him into the bed, he obligates and pulls up your dress. You undo his pants and let it fall to the ground, he gets on top of you and you giggle. It’s always the same. The same thing you have been doing for some years. He kissed you once again. You kiss him back. The bed creeks. The voices are loud. The time is forgotten, the hate is not there. His breath is ragged. Your hair is disheveled. It’s not love making. It’s far from it. It’s just something the both of you do. You’re not lovers. Not even friends. Just some fuck buddy. You call, he picks up, you kiss, he kisses back. You tell him to go faster, he picks up his pace. He doesn’t remember how many times he did it with you, nor the positions. All he remembers is him fucking you and you fucking him. He remembers the way you kiss him and the way you kiss back, the taste of your spit intertwining with his. Him pressing you against the mattress, he puts up your legs and pounds into you for the millionth time while he moans out your name. He fucks you like you’re his girlfriend, but that’s not what you are. And you kiss him like he’s you’re boyfriend, which isn’t what he is.

Jaegyeon lost his interest in other women a long time ago, but he doesn’t know if the same goes for you. It’s all just raw, passionate and quick sex. It’s not boring, it’s fun. It’s amazing. He loves it. But that’s because it’s with you. Even now when he’s laying beneath you, his hands behind his head while you sit on top of him, your back against his legs and touching his body. Your hands touching his abs and then his chest. He still feels the same way as 4 years ago.

‘Don’t you ever want to be more than just this?’

Is what he asks. You laugh and don’t really give an answer, the two of you fall asleep, then you wake up, then you kiss once again. Then it’s turns into something more before he checks out the hotel and drives you home. The next time he meets you is with the other kings and it’s all back to normal. No word of it or what happened. Back to two people who can’t stand each other and back to two people who stil haven’t confessed only to be stuck in one big cycle.

#lookism #lookism x reader #jaegyeon na #jaegyeon na x reader #lookism jaegyeon na

39 notes · View notes

sunburstsoldier · 2 days ago

Text

Some modern codywan fics that I just love

I have an EXTREMELY LONG fanfic recs document and I've been meaning to make a bunch of posts for ages so here's the first one!! non-explicit Modern AU Codywans in no particular order:

HOT2GO by Saerus2665 for dontbelasagnax | 32k | Mature |

Nurse Ben & firefighter Cody. Ben is a disaster in this and i love it. also bonus Bant is there!

“Hey,” Ben calls from the back. He holds up the forms, “You missed one.” Cody latches another one of the cabinets closed then turns to him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see him. “My bad,” he says simply. He comes to the back of the wagon and takes a seat, legs hanging over the side. He glances up as Ben hands over the forms and pen. “You’d think running down signatures would be a little below your list of duties” he says, in that annoyingly pointed way of his. That’s fine. Ben’s decided he’s done walking on eggshells around him. “You’d think a Fire Captain would be better at remembering to fill out forms he’s done a hundred times,” he returns, just as pointed. Cody smiles at him, a sharp glint in his eye. Or: Nurse Ben and the bad bitch firefighter he pulls by being a complete disaster

Turn it on to a new kind of bright by rolo_rulu, Saerus2665 |41k |

Cody is a hot surfer & Ben is a biologist and also a banana stand dude. Absolutely hysterically funny.

Someone rolls him over onto his back. “Hnnngh…” Ben blinks his eyes open. There’s a man looking down at him, haloed in the bright light of the sun. He has dark eyes, and handsome features, including an interesting scar on the right side of his face. A stray dark curl hangs down in the middle of his forehead. He’s beautiful, with the sunlight behind him. Ethereal. “Are—are you an angel?” Ben finds himself saying. He doesn't know if it's the heat or his poor instinctive attempt at flirting that makes him say it. The man squints at him, brow furrowing, clearly caught off guard. “Uh—are you a banana?” The mention of it brings him back into the reality of the situation: he’s trapped in a banana suit, 10 feet from the banana stand, with the object of his recent fantasies—because yes, this is indeed Hot-Surfer-Cody— looking down at him.

Charmed On The Wayside by TapeMonkey21 | 39k Teen+ |

Lawyer Cody, farmer Obi-Wan, aka Hallmark AU! So good I read it twice in two days, it is EXACTLY like the hallmark movie I never knew I wanted.

Cody Fett's perfect big-city life falls apart when his boyfriend breaks up with him, leaving him heartbroken. A visit to the small Vermont town where his brother Rex lives has him crossing paths repeatedly with Ben, the strange, charming, handsome, flannel-wearing owner of the local cider mill and orchard. Can Cody find love again amidst the fall leaves? Or, the fall Codywan Hallmark Movie we all deserve. Written for the Codywan Comfort flash event.

*The truth that once was spoken by Jimmytiberius | 40k | Mature | Les Mis Theater AU.

Now with several sequel mini fics, a gorgeous love letter to theater and to our favorite boys. Really cool then-and-now structure.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a well-known actor in London's West End who's just signed a contract to make his long-awaited Broadway debut as Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. There's just one small wrinkle. Broadway star Cody Fett will be playing Inspector Javert. Obi-Wan hasn't seen Cody since the summer he was nineteen, when they were in summer stock together... also in a production of Les Miserables. Their relationship ended badly. What will happen when they see each other again for the first time in nineteen years? Will they ever find a way to tell each other the truth about what happened at the end of that summer?

sourdough: flour, water, and starting over by Shortcuts_make_long_delays |19k | Teen+ | BAKERY AU. This one is very sweet!!

Did Cody need to be up at 3:50am? No, not technically. But he had graciously offered to take Fox’s Sunday morning shifts at their Uncle’s bakery. Donning Fox's red apron as part of a decade long joke, he works at the bakery as he attempts to figure out what he wants from life. The first time Obi-wan shows up to dinner at Anakin's after moving back to Coruscant, he arrives twenty minutes late with the bag of rolls in hand, and unable to stop thinking about the baker in the red apron. Fox, he's pretty sure the name tag said.

bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by stormwarnings | 33k | Teen + |

Cody is an EMT; Obi-Wan's house keeps catching fire. Absolutely hysterical setting, I love the way they raise the twins communally in this fic so much.

Obi-Wan meets Cody for the first time when his niece and nephew almost light his house on fire. (Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody Fett find their way into love slowly but steadily. There's broken bones, too much sooty turnout gear, late hours spent at EMT class, three kids, ten brothers and two adopted siblings, two weddings, and all number of laughs and inside jokes along the way. It's worth it, in the end. Family's always worth it.)

It's Raining, Dear by cafffine |10k | Modern AU

This one feels like you're just catching pieces of their lives together and i love it. Leia loves rocks. Obi-Wan has anxiety. I love it.

Cody and Obi-Wan fall in love. They live together, Rex calls when he can, Anakin is just out of reach until he isn't, Luke and Leia grow up too fast, Ahsoka lives far away, the back deck needs to be fixed, life happens and it happens and it happens.

More to come !! enjoy!!

#codywan #codywan fic recs #if you're in this list i love you and i am kissing you gently #ive read each of these many times #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

44 notes · View notes

nightmare-of-homophobes · 1 day ago

Text

You Know You're My Favourite - Avis Amberg X gp!reader

Words: 5,4k (more or less).

Summary: Avis searches for her favourite girl after a fight.

Warnings: porn without plot; NSFW; sub!Avis, Dom!reader; oral (both receiving); penetration (Avis receiving); swearing; use of titles; weird/unconventional power play; light praise kink; breeding kink; mommy kink; rough sex; flirts a lot with BDSM; tits play; implied previous conversations of boundaries; implied internal homophobia; implied unilateral love.

Tag list (those who commented or reblogged on the tag post): @alittlewitchyone @emilynissangtr @greek-freak101 @live-laugh-love-lupone @multixfan @thoroughly--confused @likealayka @thegoddamnfeels @kenzie-floops @amethyst-bitch @acciosoftbroom @missquints @mrsines

Special thanks to the lovely @live-laugh-love-lupone who kindly beta read this for me <3

English isn't my native language, so bare me! I didn't watch more than three episodes of Hollywood and hadn't written gp for a while, so I'm sorry if Avis is too out of character and if the sex is awkward 🥲. This story is based on an ask I received some time ago (I hope this finds you, anon!). I wanted to try something different by mixing the request - sub!Avis - with what I took from the character and from the fanfics I’ve read about her - the power play and titles.

Hope you enjoy it! Xoxo!

(Also, I wrote a good part of this while listening to “Red Wine Supernova” and “Good Luck, Babe!”, kind of mixing the songs to set the vibes to the characters.)

***

It was late and your shift was almost ending. It had been a boring day with no clients for you so you got pretty occupied with pumping gas and cleaning cars all afternoon.

You were just about to go to the bathroom to change yourself out of your uniform when you heard a car approaching. You got irritated by that, but that slipped off your mind as soon as you recognized the car.

Putting on your best smile, you approached it.

– What a lovely surprise… – you said leaning into the window to look at the ginger woman. You didn't miss how she seemed distressed. – How can I help you, Mrs. Amberg?

– You're taking me to Dreamland.. – she demanded, her tone letting you know she wasn't in the mood for your playfulness.

You nodded quietly.

– I just need to let Ernie know you're taking me out. – you said and went back into the gas stations to do it, returning as quick as you could and entering the car.

She drove off the station in silence, the only sounds between you being the roar of the motor and the background sounds that driving through Hollywood involved. You could practically feel the tension irradiating from her body, so you put a hand on her thigh, slowly drawing patterns close to her knee - not wanting to drive her attention to you at all, but to calm her down a little. It seemed to work since she relaxed a bit.

– Tough day, mama? – you dared to break the silence.

– I don't want to talk about it. – she said, leaving no room for other attempts.

– What do you want to talk about, then?

She sighed loudly and you felt bad for pushing her, but she answered anyway:

– What about your career? Have you got any offers lately?

You hummed in confirmation. For some reason, Avis always liked to learn about her lovers and she loved to discover how you wanted to be a professional photographer. You deep down wished she would, one day, pose to you.

– Yeah, I'm covering an event this weekend. – you told her excitedly.

– That's great, what is it? – you told her the name of the event, but it wasn't one from her social circle so she didn't know it. – … But I know you'll do amazing, baby, you always do.

She met your eyes for the first time in the night, a small proud smile on her lips. That made your chest warm. It was good to know you had someone to make proud.

– You're just saying it because you know I'm a sucker for being told I'm doing a good job. – you accused her, earning a chuckle from her.

– You caught me.

You fell into a very much lighter silence as she drove into the night. You weren't recognising the route she was taking, so you imagined it was somewhere she hadn't taken you yet. When she parked in front of an expensive looking hotel, you were sure you hadn't been there before. Not that she didn't take you to fine places, she did, but that was… Too much, in your opinion.

The parking valets opened the doors of the car for you both and you jumped out of it, feeling a little bit conscious of your clothes. Maybe you should've made Avis wait for you to change it when you were still in the gas station but now it was too late to regret.

Letting the ginger woman lead the way inside the hotel and into an elevator, you were able to relax again when the doors closed and you started to go up to your floor. But your relaxed state didn’t last too long since Avis was needier that night.

Being pressed against one of the walls of the elevator, your lips crashed against her red painted ones, her mouth as demanding as she always liked to portray herself. The kiss was messy and harsh, mirroring Avis mood and making you know exactly how she needed to be treated that night.

Holding onto her waist, you pulled her body flushed against yours, your tongue darting out to try its way into her mouth. As soon as she let it slip past her lips, you started to slowly dismantle her demanding attitude. Avis usually liked to have control over everything happening in her encounters, needing to guide what and how things would go. She tried to do it with you in your first encounters, but she was quick to discover that when it came to you, you simply wouldn't bend over anyone’s power without fighting for it - and that she honestly enjoyed having someone to tell her what to do sometimes.

You could still taste the wine on her tongue, which was another clear sign that something distressful happened and she really needed you to make her forget whatever it was that upset her. You could already piece together what probably happened: one more fight with the powerful Mr. Amberg. You didn't even know the man or had a hint of how he looked, but you despised him the same way. How could a man be married to a woman like Avis and not try to satisfy her?

The elevator’s door rang while opening and you quickly disentangled ourselves. She laughed at you.

– It's fine, doll. I made sure to rent a room on a floor that was empty. – she said, already leaving the elevator.

You laughed at yourself and followed her down the corridor. Your eyes didn't resist falling to her ass, admiring how rounded it was as you watched how her hips swayed as she walked. You couldn't wait to put your hands on it.

As she unlocked the door and pulled you inside the room, you met her halfway, crashing your lips together again as you closed the door with your foot before slamming her against it.

– Hmm, did you miss me that much? – she asked, putting her arms around your neck.

You hid your face on her neck, kissing and sucking it softly.

– No… I'm actually had been very busy fucking some pussies around. – you teased her, knowing how she could get jealous when at your work.

It worked because you heard how she grumply groaned and turned her face to the other side when you tried to kiss her on the cheek.

– Oh, mama, you let me get into your head so easily. – you poked her side. – You know you're my favourite client.

Though you meant those words, they left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. You had a strict rule of trying to not get attached to your regular clients, but sometimes you would get yourself wondering how it would be to be something else than just a prostitute to Avis. Something more.

But of course you would never speak those desires out loud. No. She was married and you were both women. And, in the end, she only saw you as a passing fun. Someone she could get distracted with when her true life got tough.

– You're distracted today… – she called your attention, making you snap out of your thoughts. She frowned. – What's in your head?

You let a peck on her lips, diverting her attention.

– Nothing at all. – you brushed off the topic. Letting your hands fall to her butt, you gave it a playful squeeze. – Now… What about going to prepare yourself for me? – you asked against her lips before leaning to her ear again. – I'm so hungry, mama…

You heard how her breath hitched and felt how her hands buried themselves into your hair. Leaning back to look at her, you saw how her eyes had darkened. You always loved to watch her eyes. Especially when she was under you trying so hard to keep them open while cumming around your cock.

Leaving your embrace, Avis went to the double doors in one of the walls of the living room (that you only noticed once she approached because you were too busy paying attention to her before), opened it and disappeared inside of it. The bed was probably inside those doors. You heard another one being opened before the shower was turned on.

She always liked to dress up on encounters like that, but she liked to be extra clean and use her fanciest gowns and lingerie for you. She was sold for compliments and you suspected that was a thing for her.

Trying to busy yourself, you poured down two drinks, swallowing yours in one go.

You hadn't to wait too long before you heard heels clicking on the floor and arms flew around you to embrace your body tightly.

– Do you want a drink? – you asked softly, enjoying how she cupped your breasts and kissed the back of your neck.

– Right now I just want to drink whatever comes out of you. – she answered, sending shivers down your spine.

– I can arrange that. – turning on her arms, you started to undo your belt, feeling how she was getting impatient.

Drinking the shot of whiskey you had poured for her, you swallowed a little before bringing your lips closer to hers. She quickly accepted it, opening her mouth so you could spill the drink into it. Of course that wasn't what she meant, but she wouldn't deny you.

Kissing down her cheek and her jaw, you buried your face back on her neck, your hands found the knot of her robe to untie it. She was smelling so good you wanted to wrap yourself around her and never leave.

– I like this colour on you… – you muttered against her skin, hearing her whimper softly. – But unfortunately I need this off.

Letting it slide off her shoulders, it was your turn to lose your breath.

– Did you like it, baby? – she asked with a sultry smile and tone, faking innocence. She knew you liked it. Actually, she could feel just how much you liked it.

There, standing confidently in front of you, she was wearing a red corset that hugged her curves perfectly, but that wasn’t all. Your eyes ranked up her legs, admiring the black long socks attached to something underneath the corset - probably a, also black, garter belt. Finally, your eyes met what you considered to be the cherry on top: lace black panties that left so little for your imagination.

You ran your fingers over the details of the corset, your mind already picturing how it would be to take it out of her later. The rest would stay in place, it wouldn’t bother you.

– I loved it. – you said, playing with her garters. – And because of it I’ll let you pick what we’re doing first. What do you want baby to do? – you asked, pulling her hips closer so one of your knees was placed between her legs.

Under your intent gaze, Avis squirmed. She enjoyed your attention so much. Starting to undo the buttons of your white shirt, she asked:

– You mentioned being hungry, right?

You laughed and helped her to get yourself undressed. Once you got rid of your shirt, tie and shorts, your hands returned to her hips, starting to push her in the direction of the couch, you made her sit down. She made mention of untying the garters but you pulled her hands off it harshly.

– None of it, I didn't ask you to take it off. – you reprimanded her while kneeling on the floor.

– I don't need your permission… – she said under her breath and lifted her hips towards you.

One of your eyebrows shot up as you looked at her. So she was naughty tonight? How bad.

– Are you looking to be punished, mama? – you asked severely. – You know how long I can keep you on edge.

She seemed to fight her pride and own words before looking away and muttering:

– I'm sorry.

– That's better. – you tapped the side of her thigh, satisfied. – Now where were we…

You spread her legs, starting to kiss the insides of her legs and massaging her feet while doing it. She loved receiving a good massage.

– Yes… – she sighed, opening her legs even more, if it was possible.

Her skin was smelling so sweet and her socks brushing against your bare skin were so soft that you were feeling yourself getting hard faster than usual. Avis would certainly drive you mad anyday.

– Baby, please… – she whined, her hips bucking in the air, asking to be touched. – Please, Mama's so hot…

Complying with her requests, you brought your lips higher, your fingers cleverly finding her panties and pushing them to the side. You licked from her entrance to her clit, feeling how she clenched and how the foot you were still holding curled into your hand.

Bringing your hands to her hips, you pulled her further to the edge of the couch, placing her legs over your shoulders.

– Look at this, mama. – you breathed against her core, letting soft kisses all over her mound and playfully sucking at her bundle of nerves, feeling her squirm and moan shakily. – Your pink hole is so wet for me already, I bet I could slip inside right now without any trouble… – you fully slid your index finger into her fluffy folds as if to prove your point to her. – See?

– God… – she groaned and you could feel how her hands were clutching at the couch on your sides. She could feel your finger searching for her weak spot, scratching her walls sweetly in its path.

You were steadily letting kitten licks on her clit, your finger caressing her point over and over again, reducing her to a pathetic moaning mess. When you started to suck her, her hands flew to your head, holding you impossibly closer.

– Fuck! Yes! – she rolled her hips against your mouth, starting to ride your face in chase of her orgasm.

You let her do it while adding another finger inside her, scissoring and opening her so you could replace it with your tongue later.

– Hmm… Mama, you’re taking me so well. – you complimented her, your voice sending vibrations against her clit, making her grind harder against you.

Her moans were louder with each thrust of your fingers, every rub of her clit against your tongue making her legs twitch and her hole clench around your fingers. You knew she was so close and you were loving it. Satisfied with the stretching, you finally slipped your tongue inside her, tasting her flavor straight from the source.

Her grip on your hair tightened, her thighs creating a fluffy - and strong - cage as they closed around your head. A loud, obscene moan left her lips, her whole body losing control as she reached her orgasm.

– Ah, baby! Fuck! Fuck! – she cried out.

Her walls were tightening so hard around your tongue it was practically expelling you from inside her and you couldn’t help but whimper at that. Staying still, you let her use your mouth to ride her orgasm.

You caressed her thighs all the while, soothing her and waiting for her to calm down. It didn’t take her long before you could finally free yourself from her legs, resting your head on her thigh as you had done before. You looked up at her with what you knew were your loving eyes.

– Everything alright, mama? – you asked as she panted, her chest rising and falling heavily.

All you received from her was a soft groan, her eyes shut tightly. Getting up from the floor, you sat on her lap, drawing her attention back to you.

– I’m fine. – she said dreamingly, opening her eyes to meet yours.

– That’s good… – you said and leaned to kiss her.

She welcomed your mouth with her tongue, more than willing to taste herself on yours, moaning at it.

– Can you taste how sweet you are, mama? – you mumbled against her lips, making sure to press your tongue down at hers, wanting her to commit her own taste to her memory.

The kiss was heated and messy and you didn’t even notice when you started to roll your hips on hers, brushing your covered erection against her corset, missing the feeling of her chubby belly. You liked the corset, it was pretty, but you liked even more to have her breasts and tummy on display.

– Stand up, let me take this thing from you. – you panted against her lips, getting off her lap to sit beside her.

She did it and you pulled her down on your lap, moaning at the feeling of her ass hugging your dick perfectly. She rubbed her ass over you playfully, earning a quick slap on her right buttcheek, which made her quiet down.

Starting to open her corset, you took the opportunity to also undo her complex updo. She usually didn’t let you do it, since it took time to put her hair back in place, but you didn’t think she was planning going anywhere or returning home that night. As you finished with the corset and brushed her hair with your fingers, admiring its redness, you made no effort to resist reaching around her body and taking her big boobies into your hands, loving their weight and softness. The sigh she let out told you how relieved she was to get rid of the corset.

– Feeling better, Mama? – you asked while playing with her breasts, squeezing them and rubbing her nipples to get them hard.

She only hummed in answer, her ass not staying still on your lap, teasing you as much as you were teasing her. You kissed your way to the back of her neck, biting down hard on the skin there, making her squirm and whimper above you, her hands reaching up to hold yours in place. You pinched her nipples and flicked it on your fingers, making her breath get elaborated again.

– Baby, please! – she finally gave up, understanding you wouldn’t take any action if she didn’t beg. – Please, I need you… – she tried to push one of your hands down to her pussy but you prevented her from doing so. – Please, I need you inside me so fucking bad!

Reaching to her neck instead of between her legs, you held it and squeezed it weakly, pulling her towards you until her head was on your shoulder.

– You know what to do if you need my cock that much. – you said against her ear, enjoying how her desperate eyes found yours. Such beautiful eyes.

You smirk down at her and bite her ear softly.

Sliding down from your lap, she got on her knees before you, her hands fumbling with your tight underwear while letting mouth-opened kisses on your erection through the cloth. She looked so sexy doing that.

– Aren’t you forgetting anything, mama? – you asked and she looked up at you confused. You gestured for her to keep eye contact and she nodded.

Letting her take control of that small moment, you leaned back on the couch helping her to take off your underwear by raising your hips. She bit her lips at the sight of your cock on display.

– See how excited I get everytime you come to see me, mama? – you asked, running a finger on her lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth, watching how she accepted it, sucking it into her mouth.

Bringing her closer by her chin, you let her replace your fingers with your cock, sighing heavily at the velvety and warm sensation of her mouth around you.

– That's it, mama… – you hold her head, not leading her, just letting it rest there. – Take it all inside.

She obeyed, bit by bit taking all your length into her mouth, not having any trouble. The idea of her being so used to doing that kind of turned you on. Between the two of you, you might have been the prostitute, but she was definitely the slut.

You moaned as she bobbed her head up and down a few times before returning to your head, sliding her tongue against your slit.

– Fuck, mama... – you bite your lower lip, your free hand going to your tits to play with them. – You know exactly what to do to make me lose control.

You groaned when she sucked the head, her cheeks hollowing as she did and her eyes searching your reactions through heavy lids and battling of lashes. That woman would certainly kill you one day.

Letting her work her magic on your cock, you took that moment to just enjoy the pleasure she was giving you, focusing on your sensations as soft groans and moans kept falling from your lips, your chest heavy and heart racing as you watched how she switched between sucking your cock and teasing the slit at the tip or sucking your balls while jerking you, all the while never breaking eye contact.

– You're doing so fucking good… – you panted as your release started building, your dick throbbing into her mouth. You almost came when, in one go, she put all your length deep inside her mouth, the tip reaching the back of her throat. – Fuck!

You held her head in place, closing your eyes at the intensity of the wave of pleasure that teased you, unaware of how she also closed her eyes, moaning around you and sending another wave through you. She always found it so hot when you were rough with her and she could feel her arousal sliding down her thighs, her pussy aching to be filled again as she made her best to not gag around you. You released your grip on her.

– Keep going, I'm so close. – you gasped.

With that, she doubled her efforts, your hips bucking to meet her meet her mouth halfway, your cock brushing the back of her throat at every damn thrust. A strain of swears were falling from your lips and, when you finally couldn't help it anymore, your hand hooked into her hair and you harshly set the rhythm you wanted, making her choke sometimes while supporting herself on your thighs, trying to relax her jaw the most as she let you fuck her mouth. She knew her throat would be on fire the next day but she didn't care. She would never stop you from doing what you wanted to her.

She was exactly where she wanted, receiving exactly what she needed.

With a final rough thrust up, you held her still, cock buried impossibly deep inside her as she fought the urge to push you off her so she could breathe. When she couldn't take it anymore, she patted your thighs and you let her go while growling through your orgasm, your seed spilling from her throat to her face since she couldn't hold your dick down her throat for so long.

Both of you were breathing heavily for totally different reasons.

– Sorry. – you apologized as soon as you got enough air to do it.

Her head was resting on your hip, her hair in all directions. Her face was flushed and painted with your cum while her lips were swollen and her cheeks had stains of tears. She was a fucking mess.

– It's okay, doll… – she muttered raspy, her chest rising and falling in quick puffs as she still was trying to calm herself down. – You know I like it.

Gentler than you were before, you ran your hand through her hair, putting it a bit back in place, not because you were finished with her, but because you wanted to bring her some tenderness after such roughness. You waited until she was ready to keep going.

Watching her standing up, you stood too, catching her lips into your in a soft, caring kiss.

– You know we can stop at any moment, right? – you reminded her in a whisper.

– I want to continue. – she reassured you. You nodded.

Taking her by the hand, you led her to those double doors, entering it to find your way to the bed. It was very large and fit the luxury of the place.

– Get on the bed. I'm gonna get another drink. – you said while caressing her back.

As she moved to do so, you returned to the other room, pouring you a drink while you still felt cloudy from your previous orgasm. Something strong like whisky would definitely help, you thought to yourself. Yet, it wasn't the whisky at all that snapped you from your current state of mind, but the vision of your tie lying in a corner of the room. An idea popping into your head.

Drinking the liquid in one go, you walked over and picked up the tie, returning to Avis immediately.

You weren't waiting to find her on her fours on the bed, waiting for you with her ass high in the air and face buried in the sheets. All the while she was touching herself, two fingers deep inside her drenched pussy.

That pissed you off.

– I didn't say you could touch yourself! – you exclaimed as you reached over and pulled her fingers out of her harshly. –You’re really looking for that punishment, lady!

You turned her over so you could pin her down, you face hovering over hers as you angrily asked:

–Now choose… – you lifted the tie. – Hands or eyes?

She didn't miss a beat before answering:

– Eyes. – she could bear not being able to see, but being restrained was a torture for her.

You grimaced at her answer, an unsatisfied expression on your face.

– You don't deserve it. – you said. – Mama has been acting very bad.

You flipped her over again, using your weight to hold her still as she fought you and your decision to tie her hands instead. As you finished, you leaned and growled on her ear:

– You will learn how to please your baby!

Getting off her, you helped her to return to her previous position: ass on the air and face buried in the sheets. Aligning your dick with her entrance, you entered at once, knowing that she was more than prepared after so much teasing. She moaned unashamed at that, ass moving to meet your hips halfway.

– Yesss… – the word lingered on her tongue, turning into a hissing as you slapped her ass once more.

Settling a steady rhythm of thrusts, you watched, hypnotized, how her pussy took your cock so well, as it was designed especially for you. A soft and warm place for your dick to rest and empty itself.

Oh, that was another great idea. You would adore to cum inside Avis again and again until she was filled and carrying your seed deep inside her.

Keeping to fuck her in that slow and steady rhythm, you knew exactly what you were doing to her: making her lose her mind again. It wouldn't take long until she was pathetically begging again, her brain melting from having what she wanted from the start but it not being enough to satisfy her.

And you were right, it didn't take long.

Once she realised you had no intention in changing your pace, she cried out muffled:

– Baby, please… – she tried to fuck herself against you, but reaceived another harsh slap. – Mama is so sorry, please… She won't do that again… Please, please, please… Mama will do anything baby wants her to do, promise… – her whimpers keep going, but you already have heard the words you wanted to hear so you leaned into her again, one hand getting tangled in her hair again.

– Anything, mama? – you asked and, to provoke her, you gave a particularly rough thrust. Just the way she liked.

– Yes! Fuck, yes, please… – she cried.

Your free hand winding its way through her body until it finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, enjoying how she gasped and moaned even louder.

– Do you know what I would love, mama? – you kept whispering against her ear. – To have you carrying my babies… – a soft “yes” came as an answer and you closed your eyes. – Wouldn't it be lovely, mama? Me buried deep inside you? Feeling you so good? Spilling all my seed so mama could take it in her perfect body for me? It would make me so happy, mama…

Hearing her confirm every question you made her was an otherworldly experience, but the words that set you wild were those who came from her lips in sequence of that:

– Please, love, give me your babies… I'll carry your babies, please…

Pushing her face against the mattress harder and holding onto her tied hands, you started slamming into her, the sounds of your skins meeting each other extremely obscene. You were panting and whimpering, lost in Avis body as you finally gave her what she was so pleased to beg for, her moans fully turning into screams of pleasure now, her hands twitching and trying desperately to free themselves from the tie while her toes curled and she bit the sheets to muffle her sounds.

Every thrust of yours sent her higher on her from the force you were using to fuck her, almost as if trying to forge your bodies together, so it was a good thing you were keeping a good hold on her, otherwise her head would be banging against the headboard.

When she started clenching painfully around your cock, you knew she was close to her orgasm. You were too. Flipping your positions, you laid on bed and pulled her above you, untying her hands so she could support herself to ride you.

– Yes! Yes! Gimme your babies, yes! – she kept exclaiming as she bounced hard up and down the entirety of your length, seeming to want as bad as you to bury your cock deep inside her. – Fuck, yes, mama feels so good! Mama is gonna cum!

You helped her to bounce, supporting her hips and meeting them with yours halfway as well, wanting to make her cum again.

Sitting down on the bed, you held her hips down, burying yourself inside her while helping her to grind on you, one of your hands searching for her clit to send her over the edge. You were feeling goosebumps all over your body and it was becoming harder to fight your orgasm.

– Cum for me, mama, please. – you asked and, lowering your head to her chest, you caught one of her lips into your feverish mouth, sucking it hungrily.

That was enough and, with her orgasm finally washing over her, she stopped her movements, her entire body tensing up. Being squeezed like that, you didn't even try to resist your own orgasm, spilling yourself inside her body as a guttural moan escaped from the back of your throat.

Both of you stayed still, practically breathing each other's air as you panted with your foreheads pressed together. For a long moment, none of you dared to move, both sensible to touch and still feeling the aftershocks of your blissful orgasms. Finally, you turned her again on the bed and slipped out of her, both of you moaning from the loss of the sensation.

You watched how your seed spilled out of her mistreated hole once you were out. You weren't preoccupied with coming inside her. She was past her fertile age and you were infertile, so there was no risk at all.

Laying beside her, you welcomed her into your arms.

– Feeling better? – asked softly, running your fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head, your eyes were feeling so heavy.

– Much better. – she said and yawned.

– Go to sleep. – you told her, knowing that all would end very soon.

Soon she would have to return to her husband and you to your clients. Soon she would pretend that all those nights with you were nothing more than usual fun, even though both of you know she had stopped seeking other prostitutes after finding you. Stopped seeking men.

And you, well, soon you would have to pretend that you didn't let her affect you. That you didn't let yourself hope that, one day, she would need more than just sex. And, certainly, that you didn't caught yourself thinking of her when fucking others or wishing she would accept what the nature of your encounters were saying about her.

– Good night, doll. – she said sleepily.

– Good night, Avis. – you answered, kissing her head once again.

You knew she would have already left you when you woke up the next morning.

Comments are very appreciated because I'm a sucker for validation!

#avis amberg x reader #sub!avis amberg #bratty!avis amberg #avis amberg #dom!reader #dom/sub #patti lupone #hollywood 2020 #hollywood netflix #nightmare of homophobes #nightmare writes

53 notes · View notes

devildomwriter · 20 hours ago

Text

All is Calm, All is Bright | Leviathan x Reader

.7K words | GN! Reader | CW: none

Leviathan sketched the dimensions of his room down on a piece of graph paper. He continued to look around, making a plan in mind as you stood there with the box of Christmas lights.

For the first time ever Leviathan was letting you decorate his room for Christmas, even if it meant temporarily moving some of his prized action figures. The Christmas Ruri Chan was nonnegotiable though, she stayed no matter what.

He held up the graph paper to show you where he thought the lights might be best placed and you sat the box down to take a closer look.

“The lights won’t bother Henry 2.0 will they?” You asked him and he frowned and quickly walked to the tank.

Henry swam up to him to listen to what he had to say. Leviathan spoke to his fish as frankly as he would anyone else and Henry twirled around once in place.

Leviathan turned around and grinned.

“As long as we turn them off when we aren’t in the room.”

You frowned. “When aren’t we in your room?”

He blushed and shrunk in a bit and turned back to Henry to discuss. They appeared to be in a negotiation so you let it continue until it reached a firm conclusion.

He turned around grinning. “I’m just gonna put a blanket in front of his tank so he can sleep sometimes.”

A question came to mind you’d never thought to ask before, so you turned to your local fish expert. “How many hours of sleep do fish need?”

“Goldfish like Henry usually sleep about eight hours, sometimes up to twelve.”

“Wow, no wonder he’s concerned about the lights. That’s a majority of the day.”

Leviathan nodded, very touched you cared about his fish friend’s well-being.

After attaching a rod over the aquarium with temporary hangers, Levi borrowed a giant blanket from Belphegor that covered the tank. He quickly opened it back up after hearing Henry wanted to see you set up the lights.

He nodded and turned to you excitedly, unpacking the box of brand-new lights. He blushed at the thought you went out to the store to buy lights just for him. You decided not to tell him Satan had rage ripped the others apart when he couldn’t easily untangle them and that’s why all the lights were new this year, courtesy of Satan’s credit card.

You sat down on his beanbag chair next to him and started taking the lights off from around the cardboard they were looped around.

You and Levi carefully coordinated where you dragged the lights to make sure nothing tangled up. After everything was tested and working, you and Levi consulted his graph paper to see how many feet of light you needed to line the ceiling walls as you planned.

With no-damage hangers, you and Levi used stools to start lining up the lights on opposite sides of the room.

You slowly but surely began moving your individual ladders until they were right next to each other.

You grinned and high-fived Levi as it had all gone according to plan.

“We make a pretty good team, huh?” You pointed out and he blushed and nodded. He quickly got down from the ladder and held out his hand for you to take so you wouldn’t trip coming down the steps. He wasn’t trying to flirt, he just knew how clumsy you were. But the touch of your hand firmly holding his was enough to make him hide his red face in his sleeve.

You laughed and walked over to Levi’s light switch for the moment of truth.

Both you and Levi’s eyes sparkled as you looked at the lights and icicle lights wrapping around his room.

“I-it’s actually really cool…” Levi admitted, not expecting much from this.

“Perfect! Because we’re far from done!”

“Huh?”

“We still have snowflakes to hang from the ceilings, we need something cool to highlight Santa Ruri-Chan, I got Christmas decorations for Henry’s tank, and we need some Christmas music too.”

Levi looked surprised at your intricate plans but nodded obediently.

“Anything you say!”

While you helped decorate the rest of his room, Levi’s tail wagged happily as he swam around his Henry, placing the ornaments where the fish directed him to.

You laughed to yourself at the sweet sight and when Levi noticed he blushed but couldn’t hide it well as the lights illuminated his shy expressions of love.

#obey me shall we date #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x reader #omswd leviathan #omswd leviathan x reader #obey me shall we date leviathan #obey me shall we date leviathan x reader #obey me 25 days of Christmas #25 days of obey me Christmas #obey me drabble #obey me short #obey me story #obey me fanfic #obey me fan fic #obey me writings

35 notes · View notes

after-the-end-times · 1 day ago

Text

Shaken, not Stirred

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Formal 🤵🏻‍♂️ Rating: T 🤵🏻‍♀️ Words: 1000 Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive Language, Light D/s themes, Men's corsets should be more well known and popular, Steve and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase, flirting through playing and teasing Ao3

“So, can you feel the upper middle class poshness creeping out of the shadows of your DNA? Dripping and oozing through your veins? Just waiting to take over? Go on, baby. Tell me to get off the lawn. You know you want to.” Eddie stands behind Steve, dragging his fingers down his arms as if following something spreading through his limbs.

Steve flashes him a flat look, lips quirking. “Why are you like this?”

Eddie gasps excitedly, “And there it is!”

Placing another spoon down on the extravagantly set table, Steve tries to keep his flat tone in the face of Eddie playing, “Hmm, as I recall, this party was your idea? Maybe I should make you set the table.” adding under his breath, “If only you knew where all the forks went.”

“Oh god, that’s the good stuff.” He collapses back into one of the chairs, his hand against his forehead like he’s feeling faint. Then, peeking up at Steve with an innocent and hopeful look, “How mad would you be if I swept this all to the ground so you can take me. Right here. Right now.”

Steve throws his head back, laughing. “Did you plan this fancy Christmas dinner just because you get off on me being mean? ‘Cause I think there’s easier ways we could’ve gotten there. Definitely less cooking involved at least.”

“Nope! This is just a side bonus.” He slaps his hands on his legs and rolls to his feet. “Welp! I’m gonna go get the food in the oven. Oh! Were you gonna show me how to make those napkin crowns?”

“I was thinking we’d just go with a basic tree. Crowns take time to perfect. Everyone’s showing up soon for cocktails and we still need to get dressed.” He places the final water glass with a flourish and turns in the sudden silence to see Eddie standing in the doorway, dramatic hand against his chest, eyes all big and shiny.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, baby.” He steps in to take Eddie’s hand, pressing his lips to the back of it, and says in a low, slow voice. “How ‘bout I make a napkin crown just for you and leave it somewhere private. How’s that sound, hm?”

“Hot.” He says, face slack, eyes blinking, processing when napkins became so arousing. “Confusing. But mostly hot.” Because no, it’s not the napkins, it’s Steve. Always Steve. And his competency. Oh god, playful and knowledgeable Steve is so hot.

Steve backs off, smiling, and goes to the check the bottles of alcohol on the side table, turning all the labels forward. “Tsk, if only I’d known, all those years ago, that table setting was all it took to get you all hot and bothered. Who needed all that getting to know you and learning about your interests and wooing.”

“Oooooh yeah, baby, talk etiquette to me.” he says mock seriously, stepping into the kitchen. He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of moving the prepared food from the fridge to the oven to warm. “If only you’d listed the proper course order of a menu that first time I came over. Might’ve saved us a ton of time.”

He hears Steve laughing in the next room and smiles himself. He can’t believe that the no-longer-kids Party don’t think Steve is silly, always teasing him for being so strict. One day soon, when they have kids of their own, he knows they’re going to come to some sudden realizations. But until then, he gets this Steve all to himself, in all his fun and sexy and silly glory.

He’s suddenly not sure how he’ll control himself seeing Steve in the formal wear they picked out. Oh, why did he think this fancy pants party was a good idea? Knowing how he is when he just sees Steve in a nice button down? But no, it’ll be fine with all their friends and family here as buffer. He’ll just have reign in his horn-

“What are you thinking about so hard in here?” Steve wraps his arms around his middle and Eddie suddenly realizes he’s been staring into the open fridge for who knows how long. He shuts the fridge and turns in Steve’s arms, wrapping his arms around Steve so they mirror each other.

“What else, but you, could hold my attention so assiduously?”

“Should I start listing now, so I might be done before everyone gets here?”

“Hey, I was being romantic.” He pouts at Steve’s amused smirk. “Also, I really was thinking of you. Was picturing you in that tux. How the jacket tapers and the shirt stretches and the pants-”

Steve laughs and cuts him off with a quick, hard kiss.

“Well, what about you?” He gasps against Eddie’s mouth. “I can’t believe you found a men’s corset and that it looks so fucking hot that I’ve spent the last month trying not to think about it.”

Eddie spins out of his arms and leans against the kitchen island, hands planted on the edge, eyes dark.

“Gonna ask again, what if we sweep all of this to the floor and you take me right here, right now. Hard.” He opens his eyes to the widest puppy dog eyes he has, “Please?”

With a laugh, Steve steps in close to brush a light kiss against his pouting lips.

“Such an enticing offer.” He walks off out of the kitchen and down the hall, Eddie unable to do anything, but follow. “If only Wayne wasn’t about to walk through that door and El wasn’t so excited to show off her fancy dress.”

Steve pauses outside their bedroom door, Eddie bouncing off his back. Steve turns to him and hooks a finger in his waist band, pulling him flush. “New Year’s, though. We’ll stay in, make dinner, put on our suits, and then tear them off as the clock strikes midnight. How’s that sound?”

Eddie gulps, face flushed. “Yeah. That. Let’s do that.”

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie holiday drabbles #steddie fic #I guess I have writing tag now #ficlet

27 notes · View notes

wannabanauthor · 3 days ago

Text

I have a BuckTommy hypothesis for 7x04:

Tommy gave Buck several opportunities to admit that he didn’t really care about the tour and just wanted to get to know Tommy.

He was poking and prodding with some light flirting while giving the tour, and Buck was like

This was essentially what happened in Buck’s brain when Tommy said “You didn’t just come here to see the toys, you’re thinking of changing things up”

Buck kept deflecting and asking Tommy more questions about himself. Even Buck’s response to the flying lessons was so hilarious because he was eager to spend more time with Tommy especially in tight spaces but also he was not there to talk to Tommy about flying.

Tommy peeped his game and gave him an olive branch before leaving with Eddie. Or maybe.

I keep thinking about what happened in Tommy’s brain during 7x04 because he knew that Buck was flirting with him the entire episode, but it must have been confusing as hell because for all he knew Buck was straight.

“This guy is flirting pretty hard, but I don’t think he knows that. Is he just overly friendly or is he into me?”

Because we know Tommy was into him.

What’s really hilarious is that it took Buck saying he wanted Tommy’s attention for him to believe that Buck was into him even though Buck was not even a full step away from him at that point. Buck kept moving closer and closer that entire conversation.

And he was amping up the flirting to the point that Tommy was staring at his lips.

I actually don’t remember what my initial point of this post was, but enjoy the rambling.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #headcanon #meta

27 notes · View notes

probablyreadinsmut · 1 day ago

Text

Credits to Velnnnn on Pinterest for this image

I've just started playing Tlou for the first time and as much of a scaredy cat as I am, I'd really like to complete at least the first game. I am playing on VERY LIGHT (judge me all you want but I don't play games to stress myself out, I play them for fun and immersion, which yes, believe it or not can be achieved on the easiest setting).

That being said, it's giving me ideas. About this man specifically. Gas mask Joel Miller. The man that you are.

So with that in mind, please enjoy this purely gratuitous porn with very little plot.

Warnings/tags: Legal age gap (Anywhere from a year younger than him to 30 years), Joel's an asshole but we (collectively) love him anyway, Heavy on the mask kink. No Ellie in this bc you're the precious cargo here, awwh and no Tess bc I can't do my girl like that . Flirting, Vaginal fingering, Praise, Canon Typical Violence, clickers, Language (Swearing) No betas, apologies in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors but I'm here for a good time not a long time. 🤷

Silent, not quiet.

GasMask Joel Miller X Immune Afab! Reader - One Shot.

It had been three days since you'd left the Boston QZ with this complete stranger. He was actually making you miss the uncomfortable life you had back there.

Joel Miller was a fucking asshole, Marlene hadn't been kidding when she'd told you that.

'Prepare yourself, because he's not the easiest person to be around'

Understatement of the fucking century. If you ever see Marlene again, you're pretty sure you're going to strangle her on the spot for that one.

He was just so coarse. You couldn't do anything right in his eyes. You were quiet when he told you to be quiet. You stayed put when he told you to stay put. When you tried to tell him you knew how to fight, he wouldn't have any of it, telling you to 'Shut up and listen to him' before going on ahead to stealthily kill four runners and a clicker all on his own.

You couldn't wrap your head around it. He was absolutely infuriating. Treating you like a child. Treating you like you were a fucking China doll instead of a grown adult. At least that's how you felt.

After he'd taken out all the soldiers that were swarming the Capitol building looking for the two of you, you both sprinted into the subway, bullets whizzing by your head as more of FEDRA boots hit the ground.

"Spores. Fuck" he hissed as he hastily pulled on his gas mask and grabbed you roughly by the arm, tugging you into a dark, empty subway car, pinning you against the wall, pressing himself flat against you as you hide, hearing the approaching sound of footsteps making their way into the tunnel.

Your heart is pounding in your chest right now, not from fear but from something else entirely, feeling him pressed up against you like this, trying to control his breathing after exerting himself.

You're eyeing him in this mask, which surprises you, considering how much of a dick he's been since you first left with him. Maybe it's not about him, maybe it's about the fact that you haven't gotten laid since before the bite. If the wrong person saw it, you'd be toast. Your brains would have been splayed out across the sidewalk so fucking fast if FEDRA found out.

You realise you've been staring for a second too long when his head cocks in your direction, Hazel eyes narrowing as they assess you. "How are you breathing in this stuff?"He whispers, not wanting to alert the soldiers to your position.

You respond with a small shrug, cramped against the wall. "I wasn't lying when I told you I was immune. You're going to have to trust me some time or another."

A flicker of recognition fills his gaze but it's gone as fast as it had arrived when the soldiers announce their retreat. "They got away! Fuck it. Let the fucking clickers have 'em let's move out"

It's silent as you both listen carefully, not daring to move or breathe too loudly right now.

You're staring at him again, it's hard not to. Something about him in this fucking mask, it's an awakening. An unwanted one. Especially given the situation you're in.

"Okay I think they're--" His eyes narrow as he clocks you surveying him again for the second time in the last five minutes "What?"

Oh fuck. Learn to be more subtle.

"N-nothing!" your nervous smile and the way you answer just a little too quickly, doesn't convince him.

"Y'sure darlin'?" He drawls, you can't see it, but you know hes smirking under that fucking mask. "Yer lookin' a lil nervous right now... Wouldn't happen to be 'cause of me, would it?" Cocky bastard. So sure of himself.

You scoff and roll your eyes heavily, attempting to counter his accusation by putting on a facade of indifference. "Oh puh-leez. I'd rather kiss a clicker."

The hand that had been pinning your shoulder to the wall, slowly drifts down, calloused fingers grazing your collarbone. "That so? Well I didn't offer a kiss, darlin'" The way his voice is like honey, filling your ears with his deep, rich baritone has goose bumps breaking out all over your body and heat curling low in your stomach. He's stoking the embers, trying to ignite that flame inside you. He's succeeding.

Now isn't the time or place for any of this, but your mind is hazy with adrenaline and lust, mixing together in an intoxicating cocktail. Shifting slightly to arch your body against his, letting him feel the soft, warm curves of your body tight against him, you speak with a voice as smooth as silk "No? Then what were you offering me, Miller?"

It has the intended effect on him, feeling him getting hard against your hip

It's a challenge. It's permission. As much as you despise how he's been with you these past few days, you haven't been fucked in so long and he's here, throwing out all the signals that he's down to break that dry spell with you. Right here, right now.

"We do this, we do it my way. We clear?" The stern tone just makes matters worse, feeling the damp spot in your panties starting to become uncomfortably sticky. Authority has always been a turn on for you.

With a slow nod and a desperate little lip bite as his green light, his hand slides down, tracing over the curve of your breast, knuckles brushing over your peaking nipple.

The tiniest of sighs leaves you at his touch and you realise how truly touch starved you've been, there's only so much pleasure you could get from your own fingers.

From under the mask, his eyes stay fixed on your face, watching as your lips part, making those little noises for him. He's enchanted by it and he needs more, just like you do.

Your breath hitches as his hand begins to trail further down your body, undoing the button and zip on your jeans before he goes that step further, slipping past the denim confines. A low groan leaves him when he finds you soaked already. "Baby, you're a mess already...and I've hardly even touched you..."

You feel the prickle of embarrassment on your cheeks from that comment, the fact that he'd gotten you all worked up just from close proximity and a stupid mask was insane, unfathomable. But here you were. Despite that, you're chasing his touch with your hips, needing him to soothe the ache between your legs.

"S'okay darlin'. Ain't gonna make you wait. No time for that" With that, he slips his hand under the elastic, wasting no time in finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. You realise just how long it's been since someone else touched you by your own reaction, biting your lip to hold back the moan, fingers curling into the collar of his faded plaid green shirt.

He starts by rubbing in small slow circles with his middle and index finger, watching and listening for the little cues from you before he quickens the pace. Your restrained moans and heavy pants, combined with the way your brows pinch, tell him everything he needs to know.

His hand dips lower, circling his digits around your entrance, collecting your essence and dragging it back up to your clit, rubbing in tighter, faster circles.

It's at this point that you slap a hand over your mouth, you're pretty sure FEDRA are gone but the last thing you need is for them to come running back, drawn by the sound of you being pleasured.

"S'okay baby. I've got you. You're doing so good for me, c'mon lemme make you feel good" Joel croons in your ear, only slightly muffled by the mask.

When he hears your breathing start to get shorter and sharper under your hand, he takes his oppertuinity, sinking two thick fingers into your velvety heat, without any resistance. "Atta girl... You gonna cum for me huh? You know how... Fucking. Filthy. This is? Letting me... Do this. To you. Right now?" He puncuates his words with deep thrusts of his fingers, his thumb finding your clit to conduct a dual assault on your senses.

You have to bite your hand to keep yourself from making too much noise, eyes rolling back in your head as you begin to crest, feeling yourself trembling. His free hand snakes around your waist helping you to stay upright, if you were lucid enough you'd consider this a sweet gesture, right now though all you can focus on is his fingers inside you and his heavy breaths in your ear.

If someone had told you 3 days ago that this man would be fingerfucking you while he wears a gasmask, you'd have told them they were bat shit crazy, but here you are.

You're just about to reach your peak when you both hear the echoes of something metallic falling and rolling across the floor. Both of you freeze in place, eyes wide as his fingers are still inside you. You're listening closely, waiting to hear a walkie talkie crackle or the formation footsteps that tell you the soldiers have returned.

But no, it's worse than that. Much worse.

The telltale clicking has you clenching for a whole other reason right now, attempting to push his hand away, but he doesn't move, eyes narrowing like he's zeroing in on the noise himself.

"S'fine. It's not close. As long as we don't make too much noise we'll be fine." by we he means you. "I need you to be silent, got it? Not quiet, silent"

Your pulse thrums in equal parts nervousness and arousal. The thrill of being caught would usually have you begging already, but this isn't a scenario where you'd want to be caught. Clickers aren't something to be taken lightly.

Rationality is screaming at you to tell him to stop, but you don't want him to stop.

"Keep going." You say in a breathy whisper, clamping both your hands over your mouth now.

Without missing a beat he starts again Not bothering to build back up to it, you're still on the edge of climax and he can feel it in the way you're clenching around his digits.

He'd give anything to murmur praise and filth in your ear right now, Joel's incredibly talkative during sex, loving to talk his partners through it with praise and authority. Right now tbough he holds off, dropping his head to your shoulder, curling his fingers to hook against that spongy spot inside you that usually has women gasping. Fuck he's so hard right now, wondering what you actually sound like when you're completely untethered, thinking about what it would be like to have you making those noises as you come apart on his cock.

It's taking everything in you right now not to make a single noise, you can hear the clicking echoing in the subway tunnels, to you it sounds like it's getting closer but if it were attracted to your sounds, you'd know by now. Dying with your pants down wasn't on your list of priorities.

You can't hold back any longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out his name as you cum. But you can't, instead you grab his shoulder, nails digging into the material there, leaving the other hand clamped firmly over your mouth.

You can hold back the moans but what you can't hide is how hard you cum on his fingers, your release drips down his knuckles as he fucks you through it, the quietest of groans leaving him in return.

When you're back down to earth and no longer trembling, he slowly removes his fingers with a wet pop. If he didn't have the mask to worry about, he'd absolutely suck them clean. Instead he settles for wiping them off on his shirt, he knows he'll be smelling you for days on him. He fucking loves that.

///

As you right yourself in the subway car, buttoning your jeans back up in a post orgasm stupor, he goes off to dispatch the clicker with ease, as per usual.

Once you hear the all clear from him, you hop down out of the car, rubble crunching under your boots.

"C'mon let's keep movin', should be able to get out through the east side if it's clear."

You think for a moment that he's gone back to being the stoic asshat from before, that is until what he does next.

He reaches out to gently grip your chin between his fingers and thumb, the very same that had just bought you the quietest orgasm of your life. "Don't think this means I'm done with you darlin'. We need to find somewhere to bunker down tonight. Somewhere secure. Because the second we do, I need to be inside you. I need to hear those pretty little moans of yours for real. Got it?"

Maybe travelling with Joel Miller won't be so bad after all.

Hours later, he proves you right about that.

///

Tags: @lovely-vamp-princess @joelmillerisapunk @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @cheekychaos28

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #troy baker #joel miller smut

27 notes · View notes

sweeteastart · 8 months ago

Text

Ravioli day 5 four days later for raviolishipweek by @breannasfluff

I finished this 25 panel hell of a comic. It's resolution is a bit quick but i don't think I'm impartial after spending days on it

#pretty proud of some panels still #i didnt have the strength to add simple shading like the previous one sorry--#at this point im accepting it as it is #the explanation about Lege silence : he got injured rather badly and didn't have the heart to tell Ravio #after that its the anxiety of sending sending a letter after weeks of not responding to the few worried letters he receivzd #it just paralyzed him and he felt stuck #they talk it after that #Wars and Four had the unlucky eye contact as Lege tried to rizz Ravio #That was unfortunate because you don't want to have a fit laughter in the middle of a lover quarrel #Also Wild and Hyrule having some kind of bet was so funny #you can come up with was it would be lmao #Wild lost sadly #lu legend #lu ravio #lu twilight #lu time #lu four #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wild #lu wind #lu hyrule #linked universe #ravio x legend #ravioli #ravioli ship #raviolishipweek #hope you guys like it #also in Ravio's place i would have falling for Lege attemp qt smoothing things over with some light flirt

380 notes · View notes

leonardalphachurch · 1 year ago

Text

i think it’s really funny that all the people in the tags of that poll saying to vote chucker are people who are still active participants in the fandom meanwhile there’s like one person saying to vote lolix who’s still active. it’s what i’ve always said felix girlies are NOT loyal you’re coming crawling back to vote on a poll well we all know where your loyalties lie.

#except for z my friend z he’s always loyal 🙏#oh you love lolix soooo much huh well where are you. off flirting with some floozies #meanwhile the chucker girlies have BEEN here we’ve BEEN putting in the work to make this relationship work #you all see some shiny new fandom with things like ‘new content’ and ABANDON your boys behind #‘oh they haven’t been in the show in 7 years!’#ALPHAS BEEN DEAD FOR 15 YEARS AND IVE ONLY BEEN HERE FOR TEN #TEN YEARS I BEEN HERE WITH A CHARACTER WHO WASNT GETTING NEW CONTENT THE ENTIRE TIME #yet here i was. down in the trenches. down in the MINES. WORKING for that chucker content #because i understand LOYALTY. i understand COMMITMENT.#you return to our dying fandom to say this; that you love lolix?#only now? in this moment of prosperity?#WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE WERE AT OUR LOWEST. DURING 18. DURING THE CONTROVERSIES.#when there was no light at the end of our tunnel that promised a little ship poll about #you were off with your little blorbos living it up on the sunlight. well i hope you had fun with your ‘new content’ and ‘creators who give a #shit about the media you love’#so when you wanna come crawling back and voting lolix just know. you can have your little win. but the TRUE rvb fans know who they are

17 notes · View notes

spotlightstudios · 1 year ago

Text

Was anyone going to remind me that Lucio is the absolute biggest dork, or did I have to replay his route to figure it out again?

#light's spot #this man really says ur cute when you tell him he'll have to haunt you #thinks more highly of you when he notices that his dogs like you #sees his ex-wife for the first time in 3 years and openly attempts to flirt w/ you infront of both her and ur teacher (aka the guy ur past #life was in love with)#is super touchy and in ur personal bubble and just super flirty after entering the magic realm #and then he gets all reminiscent about a cave from his childhood (if you let him) and is very clearly going through some things?#like???#this dude just kisses you in the first 3 chapters and basically says “yeah I move fast but whatever :3” and it's like #huh???#goofy ahh out here #also obviously the symbolism w/ his whole being a foil to Asra + the entire reason ur alive is because he isn't and junk #by the end of everything ya just f off into the woods and go adventuring with Lucio like none of the things befire happened #ya leave Asra behind just like before. with the man who was the reason he lost you in the first place. his least favorite person ever.#it's just #aughhhhh

4 notes · View notes

insanechayne · 5 months ago

Text

~ ~ ~

#every time I call someone my best friend they turn into a fucking problem that just hurts me and makes me sick #is it me? am I doing something wrong? am I not supposed to have close friends?#or am I just such a fuckup that by being myself it’s inevitable that I’ll ruin my friendships?#kissed my bro on the cheek last week when he wasn’t doing too great and in my mind I was doing it just as an extra way to be encouraging #and show my support and that I’m here for him cause tbh I’ve done that with plenty of other friends and it ain’t no thing #but after a week of wondering why he’s been distant and not wanting to be around me when I’m saying I just need some time with a friend he #finally admits that he thought that was weird and out of line. so I gotta backtrack and try to explain myself but now all the stupid little #pieces be fitting and I realize that he’s probably been misconstruing me wanting time with him as thinking I’m gonna try to flirt with him #or something else fucking dumb like that. despite the fact that that has never been the case and he knows me fundamentally as a person and #should know I wouldn’t ever do anything that could make either of us cheaters even incidentally. plus he’s basically like a brother to me #and I have an AFAB partner so it’s not like I’m trolling for cock anyway and he knows that too. but now I gotta go back through every #interaction we’ve had since that happened and analyze whether or not I was weird or awkward or inappropriate in some way that he could be #upset about at all. and also act like everything is fine and keep it pushing like normal and police every future action to be safe too #because of course he can’t just be straight up about anything or tell me if something bothered him no I gotta play a whole ass fucking #guessing game. and now I also can’t trust that my best friend who is supposed to know me so well won’t take things I say/do the wrong way.#can’t trust that my best friend won’t see me in a poor light now because it’s clearly been affecting the friendship #and like totally that’s my bad I overstepped a boundary I didn’t realize was there but you should have just fucking told me at the time #instead of pulling this shit and giving me anxiety and blowing me off and making me feel like shit #can’t rely on him or trust him or anything and what’s the fucking point of even having a best friend if this is what happens? I’m at the end #of my fucking rope right now so stressed and anxious and no matter how much I try to talk to him or anything he just brushes me off and #won’t let me explain or get my feelings out or anything else. but hey at least I was around for him the other day when he needed somebody #good thing I was there to keep him from going back to drinking or something else stupid and could help him out. cause that’s what really #matters right just being able to help somebody else when they need it even if they don’t reciprocate and are actively hurting me instead of #just being there for me as a friend. guess we try again tomorrow huh? what else can be done I suppose. just get to suffer and be riddled #with anxiety and stress and depression eating away at me and ruining my fucking life. can’t even enjoy the Olympics or anything else because #I’m stuck overthinking this dumb shit. just want this to be over and things to be back to normal. wanna stop being upset about this shit and #be able to let it go but I don’t fucking know how and I can’t keep losing friends because it’s killing me #personal

1 note · View note

luveline · 23 days ago

Text

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room.

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.

He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls.

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay.

Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case.

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him?

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens.

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway.

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates.

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.”

You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.”

“They cut my hair?” he croaks.

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…”

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows.

“You look different than the last time I saw you.”

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets.

Your fingers slip into his with ease.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves.

“Of course you can.”

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…”

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?”

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart.

“What happened to you?” he asks.

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask.

“What…”

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes.

“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.

“Spencer?”

Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap.

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says.

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.”

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.”

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously.

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing.

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again.

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks.

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap.

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.”

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek.

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.”

“But I do eventually?”

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly.

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.”

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says.

“Sort of,” Spencer says.

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then.

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks.

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?”

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks.

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.”

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag.

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it.

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer.

“Uh.”

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.”

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says.

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out.

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.”

“You dog,” Derek says.

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.”

“I do know you,” Spencer says.

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table.

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.”

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says.

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.”

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.”

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.”

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re never apart?” he asks.

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks.

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze.

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks.

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too.

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.”

“We do?”

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.”

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.”

“How do you love?”

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day. “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.”

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says.

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh.

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.”

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger.

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything.”

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams.

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.”

“Who wouldn’t like you?”

“But did you?”

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.”

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.”

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?”

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily.

“What do you think?”

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.”

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh.

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you.

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock.

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly.

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?”

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.”

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile.

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?”

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?”

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on.

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space.

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss.

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely.

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him.

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!”

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.”

“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.”

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?”

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.”

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.”

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.”

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.”

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

4K notes · View notes

disgustingtwitches · 5 months ago

Text

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"

3K notes · View notes