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reidphobic · 3 days ago

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trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war in my mind) - s. r.

in which your criminology professor is just too tempting. 3359 words.

switch!spencer x switch!fem reader, questionable age gap & power dynamic, mild exhibitionism, authority kink, brief choking, praise, semi-public sex, oral (f and m receiving), mild degradation, no use of y/n

Your bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the plastic lecture hall chair, and you shift in your seat. Still, you focus diligently on the lecture, or, more specifically, on your professor. Dr. Reid is your favourite kind of challenge, a man you can’t have, the kind who won’t compromise his morals no matter how much he wants you — or, thinks he won’t.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on you just a second too long, flickers down to your chest before he catches himself. Toying with him is the highlight of your week, coming up with new ways to torture him, push his boundaries as far as you can before he snaps. The semester is drawing to a close, though, and you haven’t quite snared your pretty professor yet, so you’re having to resort to drastic measures.

It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding you, eyes sliding over you as if you’re not even there. You hope that means your barely-there outfit is working as intended. Dr. Reid refuses to call on you to answer a question, stuttering through his sentences and raking his hand through his unkempt curls. You wonder if they’re soft to the touch, if he likes having them pulled, if— Focus. You raise one hand, digging through your bag with the other. When his attention is finally on you, you spout off some stupid question that’s believable enough not to arouse suspicion; he sees right through it, though, knows the ruse.

Out of politeness, Dr. Reid keeps his focus on you as he speaks. His words come out rapid-fire as if he’s trying to escape you before you do any more damage. It only makes him stumble more, and his struggle is frankly adorable. His reaction as you wrap your lips around a cherry-flavoured sucker is audible, a hitch in his breath and a waver in his voice as you smile innocently around the candy. From then, he can’t take his eyes off you, watching your red-stained tongue lap at sticky sugar, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

Leaning back in your chair, you smirk slightly, wait to draw his attention. When he meets your gaze, you spread your legs, give him a deliberate eyeful of the tiny scrap of lace between them. At that, you physically see him snap, rail against the constraints of his moral compass, finally, gloriously give in. A thrill skitters up your spine as he stops in front of your desk. “See me after class,” he murmurs, jaw clenched.

“Yes, Professor,” you breathe, licking your lips as your thighs clench under the table.

You linger as your class lets out, carefully reapplying your lipgloss while you wait for the room to empty. When you’re finally alone, you approach his desk cautiously. “You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?” you say delicately, suddenly uncertain — you might just be in for the reprimand of your life, and that’s no fun for anyone.

“If you’ll just come with me to my office,” he says tightly, staring resolutely past you as he stands from his desk. Desire pools under your skin, your every nerve alive with tension as Dr. Reid lets you into his office. The sound of the lock clicking shut falls straight between your thighs — that’s when you know you’ve got him. You sit demurely in his armchair, legs crossed as he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible, standing across the room with his arms folded protectively across his chest. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my classroom.”

You smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” you say, putting on a wide-eyed, naive look you’re sure he won’t fall for. Unconsciously, he steps towards you.

Dr. Reid’s gaze is unreadable. “Really? That little stunt with the sucker, I— I know what you’re doing, and it has to stop, okay?” he says, and, oh. He’s the one pleading with you.

It makes sense, once you think about it. You know he used to be an FBI agent; a dangerous, high-stress job like that, it’s no surprise he’d want to shut off, hand over the control, be taken care of, entrust his pleasure entirely to someone else. “Why would I stop?” you pout. He’s close enough now that you could reach out and touch him. “I’m having so.” You take Dr. Reid’s tie delicately between your fingers. “Much.” You pull him in gently. “Fun.” You tug sharply on his tie, hard enough that he stumbles, bracing his hands on the arms of your chair.

He lets out a shaky gasp, like he’s expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “This is… The, uh…” He clears his throat. “The way you’re acting in my class is not appropriate, and it needs to stop,” he says. You’d almost call it firmly, if not for the near-imperceptible tremor in his voice.

You note that he hasn’t pulled away. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Professor,” you murmur. “I think you want me to stop teasing you, and you want me to give you what you want.” Your smile widens the longer he stays silent; searching for the words to refute you, but the lie won’t come. “Tell me what you want, Doctor Reid,” you purr.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “You aren’t… It’s not…”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this,” you breathe, catching his jaw so he can’t look away.

His mouth opens, but no words come out, speechless in a way you’ve never seen him. “I… I’m twenty years older than you.”

You grin. “And?”

“I’m your teacher,” he protests, nearly a whine, and oh, isn’t that a delicious sound.

“So?”

“So?” Dr. Reid repeats, incredulous. “I can’t… have sex with you in my office!” he hisses, low as if someone might be listening in.

Your grin only widens, and you pull him down towards you, so close that his breath skates across your lips. He twitches nervously, like you’re close to breaking him, like he’s this close to doing something he’ll regret. “But you want to,” you murmur, cupping his jaw and letting your fingers trace his cheekbone. “Tell me, Professor… When was the last time you had something just because you wanted it, hm?” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll take real good care of you, sir, I promise.”

With a strangled groan, he gives in. The kiss is sudden, harsh like he’s furious with you for pulling him in like this. Soft lips give way to sharp teeth, greedy tongues, slotting together like you were moulded for him. Your hand slides up into his hair, tangling in his curls as you kiss him harder. A moan slips from your lips when you pull away for air, and the sound seems to drive him well and truly into madness. His lips meet yours with a renewed hunger, resting a hand at your jaw when he breaks away.

Spencer (you’ve just had your tongue down his throat, for God’s sake, you’ve earned the right to call him by his first name) strokes his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing down at you with awe and disbelief written across his face. He sucks in a sharp breath when you close your lips around his thumb, lapping at it just like the sucker from earlier. “You’re trying to kill me,” he breathes.

Releasing his thumb with a slick pop, you laugh. “Is that what you think?” You stand up, press your body into his. Spencer nods warily. “You’d know. If I was trying to kill you, I’d do something like this,” you murmur, sliding your hand up his throat and pressing down softly. His eyes flutter closed in surrender, and a filthy, spit-slick grin spreads wide across your lips. “You like that? Good boy,” you say silkily, letting go of his throat as he nods. “You gonna let me take care of you, Professor?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, and when you let your gaze wander away from his flushed face and down his body, your lips part softly at the sight of him straining against his pants. You dip your head to kiss his neck, wishing you could bruise, make him yours, but you restrain yourself.

Rough carpet grazes your knees as you sink to the floor, hands coming up to work his belt open. You kiss him through his pants, slide his zipper down with your teeth. Spencer whines, and the sound sends a pulse of arousal through you. “So needy, sir,” you croon, slowly pulling him free of his boxers. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen, thick and hard in your palm, drooling precum as you lean in to kiss the tip. The salt taste of him fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily, his hips twitching as you pump his cock slowly.

Hands thread into your hair, but the touch is gentle, reverent, born from need rather than demand. Not that you’d say no to his manhandling you, but you get the sense that’ll take some time. “If you want something, it’s polite to ask,” you tease, holding Spencer’s hips when he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Fuck, please,” he hisses, and the obscenity slides deliciously up your spine. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so gorgeous down there. I want you so badly, I just— please?” Spencer whines, and he sounds so sweetly pathetic that you take pity on him, wrap your lips around his head. The moan that falls from his lips is made of pure lust, and you shiver, arousal dripping between your thighs.

You suck and lick at him, eager and teasing, moaning as the taste of him fills your mouth. Spencer trembles with the effort of holding still, not fucking up into your mouth, and his hands unconsciously tighten in your hair. “You can be a little rougher, if you want,” you say, sliding your palms up his clothed thighs and taking him in your mouth again. You moan around him as his cock bumps the back of your throat, swallowing a gag with practiced ease.

Spencer’s hand curls into a fist in your hair, your stomach clenching in anticipation. The gentle sting when he tugs just a little buzzes under your skin, and you moan enthusiastically around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper. “Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking forward until his cock bumps the back of your throat. Heat throbs between your legs as he twitches on your tongue, and you can tell from the sounds he’s making that he’s close.

You double your efforts, pulling off to lick around his head and drip spit along his length. Arousal throbs in your belly, hips grinding down against nothing. Slowly, you take him all the way back in, moan low in your throat when he’s buried to the hilt. You trace your tongue across the vein throbbing on his underside, and Spencer lets out the sweetest, most desperate little whimper you’ve ever heard. “I- I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck, baby, oh, my God,” he gasps, needy and adoring.

His voice trembles as he begs, so soft you’re not sure he knows he’s speaking aloud, and the way he pleads your name, fuck. Time blurs around you, your head goes hazy, pleasure knotting itself deliciously around your insides. Spencer gives a strangled moan, a garbled sound that might be your name, and that’s all the warning you get. You swallow greedily as he spills on your tongue, twitching and moaning and praising you through short, gasping breaths.

He’s still twitching with the aftershocks as you pull off, kneeling to smile blithely up at him. Spencer’s eyes are wide, sparkling with adoration as he struggles for breath. “How was that, Professor?” you tease. “Do I get an A?”

He gives a groaning sort of laugh, pulls you to your feet. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, still gazing into your eyes. It’s disarming, and you get the distinct impression he can read what you’re thinking as plainly as if it were stamped on your forehead. “Come here, come on,” he adds, pulling at your hips and pressing your body into his. You’re almost shocked when he kisses you, hard and greedy and hungry, the most aggressive he’s been this entire time. He sanitises his damn desk three times in a class, for God’s sake — you’d half expected him to hand you a toothbrush when you stood from the floor.

And yet, he’s kissing you breathless, and his hands are tangled in your hair, and his body is pressed so close to yours that you can barely tell where you end and he begins. “Thank you,” he mutters against your lips. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. You’ve gotta let me— Come here, sit,” he says, guiding you to sit on his desk. You balance between scattered papers, an uncapped pen bleeding a black stain into your skirt.

“Let you do what, Doctor?” you say, quiet and breathy, gazing up at Spencer with wide, adoring eyes.

Spencer smiles, and something warms in your chest at the sight. Long, delicate fingers trace along your thigh, push up your skirt until your panties are on full display. “Pretty,” he remarks, maddeningly casual. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Of course, sir. I don’t dress up for boys anymore.” You swallow, bite your lip. You decide to lay it on a little thicker. “See, I need a man.”

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Your heartbeat quickens, excitement throbbing between your legs as he drags them down. “Look at you, sweet girl. So wet. Is that all from sucking my dick?” he teases, and you shudder.

You don’t know where the sudden obscenity, sudden dominance came from, but it thrills you all the same. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “What are you gonna do about it?” Smirking, Spencer picks up your panties, lets them dangle from his fingertips, red lace starkly incongruous from the calm, studious background of his office.

After a beat, his grin turns wicked and he tucks them into his pocket. “Safekeeping,” he says, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. The movement is so tender that it stops you in your tracks, a shimmering thread of something more than simple desire stringing between you. His eyes glitter, and you know he feels it too. Then, long fingers start to work at the buttons of your blouse. “I want to see all of you,” Spencer says, bending his head to kiss your lace-clad breast as your shirt falls open.

His hand skates up your thigh, oh-so close to where you need it. “Please,” you breathe. “Please, sir. I need you.” Spencer draws his hand away and you whine pathetically, your bare thighs suddenly impossibly cold.

“Be patient, sweet girl,” he says, low and almost dangerous. A thrill skitters up your spine as he sinks to his knees, gazing intently at your dripping wet core. “Beautiful,” he mutters, so quietly you don’t even think he’s talking to you. His hands slide up to your thighs again, spreading them apart gently. “Are you gonna let me taste you, beautiful?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering at his words. He kisses the inside of your knee, works his way down your thigh. A brief, bright spark of pain flickers through you as Spencer sucks a bruise into your skin and you moan. A rush of incredibly gratifying heat washes over you when you realise he’s marking you; a hidden little secret lying just beneath your polished exterior. Spencer won’t be able to see anything else when he looks at you.

He pulls away from his assault on your thighs to look up at you, doe-eyed. “Tell me you want this. Please. I need to hear you say it.” You shudder, closing your thighs around his head and threading a hand into his curls so he can’t drag himself any further away.

“Spencer,” you moan. His eyes blow wide at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please. I need you,” you breathe. “Need you to make me cum, sir, please. Haven’t I been good for you? Don’t I deserve it?” You bite your lip to muffle a scream when Spencer leans in, licks a broad, flat stripe along your soaked core.

He’s methodical, at first, and you know somehow that he’s carefully cataloguing your responses. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first and then faster, pressure mounting between your thighs. Spencer moans into you, shifts his hips, and you realise: he’s getting off on this. A jolt of arousal so strong you literally pulse against his mouth rips through you, and you feel his lips curve into a smirk.

Big, soft hands dig hard into your thighs, pulling you flush against him like he could bury himself in you. “You taste so good, baby,” he whines, pressing his tongue flat against your hole as you grind your hips forward. Pleasure curls under your skin, swelling and pressing against your organs, crowding your mind until you can’t think, can’t feel anything but him. Your toes curl in your shoes, stomach clenching as your orgasm builds and builds. Breaking away, Spencer presses tender little kisses to your inner thighs, licks soothingly over his bite mark.

Just as you’re starting to whine at the loss, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Sudden, electric ecstasy shoots through your body when he sucks on your sensitive nerves and it’s all you can do not to scream his name for the entire campus to hear. “Oh, fuck,” you whine instead, rocking your hips in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “M’so close, sir, please— You gotta let me— fuck!” you gasp, cunt clenching as he slides two fingers into you. You’re so wet that it’s easy, a slick slide as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Look how well you take me,” he says, staring openly at the point his fingers disappear into your body, your greedy cunt parted around them as wet, obscene noises fill the room. He kisses your clit softly and your legs kick out. “You’re gonna look so pretty taking my dick, hm?”

Your mind goes blank, pleasure thudding sickly in your throat, humming in your ears. “I want it,” you whine. “God, I want you to fucking— mmm— bend me over this desk ‘n— fuck— make me all stupid for you. Oh, God, Spencer, m’so close!” you cry, tugging at his hair and writhing helplessly.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Spencer says, softly urging. “Cum for me.” He pumps his fingers, licks at your clit, gently coaxes you over the edge. Your hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk as pure pleasure washes over you. Your body slumps, weak and powerless against the weight of your orgasm ripping through you. Spencer doesn’t let up, smiling into you as you write above him, murmuring soft praises that fade into a low buzz against your pulse hammering in your ears.

Spencer’s lips and chin glisten with your arousal, still kneeling between your legs as you struggle back to your body. “That was… Shit, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand,” you giggle, testing your weight as you shuffle off his desk. Spencer leans down to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips is dizzying. Pouting, you glance up at the clock hanging over his door. “I have class.”

As much as he wants to, Spencer won’t tell you to cut class, and you both know it. “Would you like to, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and just like that, he’s back to the sweet, nervous academic you’re used to. “Continue this discussion later? I’ll— I’ll be here all day.”

Your lips stretch wide in a saccharine smile as you slowly button your shirt. “Why, Doctor Reid, are you asking me to meet you after hours? How scandalous,” you giggle, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll be back at six.”

#one thing ab me i cannot resist a problematic age gap fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #writing #smut #spencer reid #professor!au #<- feels weird to call it that cos he’s canonically a professor but u get my drift

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revelboo · 3 days ago

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I’m here for Soundwave stealing away reader from Starscream. It’s a very likely scenario to occur if Starscream continues to be his own downfall but it’s amusing to consider nonetheless the less because he knows that is an outcome that can happen.

He absolutely would at this point if reader wasn’t fully bonded to Starscream. He’s just trying to keep Star from dragging you with him when he self destructs at this point

Everything Is Alright Pt 106

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Megatron.” Turning at Soundwave’s deep voice, he waits for his communications officer to catch up to him. “A word?” Servos flexing because he can still smell you on Soundwave, he inclines his head. Starts walking again with the other mech and waits for Soundwave to begin speaking again. Because this is about you, he knows it is. And you’re a problem. The way his spark heats when you glare at him or snap back an unexpected thrill. Afraid, but willing to stand up to him for your mates, but not yourself. Why does he care when you really shouldn’t matter.

• “This is about the human. Your mate.” Ignoring the thinly veiled growl in Megatron’s voice, Soundwave nods. Carefully. If Megatron realizes he’s being manipulated, he’ll never cooperate. So he waits and walks, feeling when Megatron glances sidelong at him, optics narrowed. “Why a human?” Because of the way you smile when you see him, though those have been fragile things lately because of his own actions. Because he loves the chaos of your emotions within his thoughts, those soft hands, having someone that doesn’t mind if he’s too quiet. If he’s lost in thought. The way you trace little patterns on his plating when you’re drowsy and the way you never shy away when he reaches for you. That soft voice talking to him about anything and everything. All things he can’t say to Megatron.

• “Easy to control,” Soundwave replies and Megatron’s lips twist. Because he’s almost certain that’s a lie. No, definitely a lie. Remembering the affectionate way Soundwave had brushed his cheek against you and feathered kisses against your skin. Murmuring to you as you curled into him, trusting yourself fully to his care. And part of him wonders what that would be like. Someone waiting for him, happy to see him and with no ulterior motives behind their smiles. He’s lonely, but he’s been lonely a very long time. Letting his reputation and temper keep everyone at bay.

• “The truth,” Megatron admonishes, voice soft and Soundwave vents. Tiredly reaching up to press his servos against his chassis over his cassette compartment. Can still sense your emotions despite the distance. That incomplete bond a tie to you. A way to ensure the Seeker can’t just run away with you. And a gamble that you’ll hopefully survive Starscream if he won’t stop clawing for power. If Megatron ends him once and for all because of the Seeker’s own treacherous actions, you don’t deserve to die with him. And he doesn’t know how this will work. If he‘ll be tied to Starscream’s fate alongside you if he fully bonds you or if it might spare you. Spark bonds are a taboo and who knows which or if any of the old stories are real or just legends.

• “Happier since finding them,” Soundwave admits. That isn’t a lie, his communications officer looking at him as if daring him to judge. And he really can’t. Because he understands as much as it makes him uncomfortable. Likes speaking to you despite the fact that you’re beneath him. Insignificant. “Less lonely.” And that strikes home.

• “I don’t know what that means,” you whisper and that hint of miserable fear in your voice pierces Starscream’s own worries. “I don’t know what a protoform even is.” Feels when you start to tremble and wraps his arms around you as he realizes that he’s not the only one completely lost in this. You’re worried and scared, too. “I need someone to talk to me, okay? Please?”

• “I know.” Raspy voice low as he tucks you more firmly against him, chin resting on top of your head. “We’ll do this together.” Feeling his palm sliding up and down your spine, you desperately want to believe that. That he’s not going anywhere. That he won’t panic and run again. But you’re not sure that you can anymore. “Figure it out together.” And you need to believe that so much it hurts, but can you?

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #transformers #megatron #starscream #soundwave

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viasdiary · 2 days ago

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luigi’s always taking advantage of us in bed but when do we take advantage of him?? #usehim

love this prompt i definitely need to write more sub luigi fics

☆ please (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ warnings: rough sex, overstim, crying, begging, corruption, noncon if you squint?

☆ reader takes luigi's virginity and rides him until he's crying and begging

you’re sprawled out on the couch, half-watching tv, but your attention keeps drifting to luigi. he’s sitting beside you, one leg casually tucked under him, his broad shoulders filling out his black t-shirt. the shirt fits him just right—snug across his shoulders, stretching slightly over his chest and arms. it’s simple, but it’s working. the gray sweats he’s wearing hang low on his hips, letting the band of his boxers peek out. his posture's stiff as he nervously fiddles with his phone. the two of you have hung out plenty of times before, but tonight feels different, there's some tension in the air, some feeling you can’t quite shake.

you’ve noticed it for a while now: how he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, how his smile lingers a little longer than it should. you know he's into you. and honestly? the fact that he's a little clueless about what to do with that attraction just makes it more fun.

"so," you begin, glancing over at him with a smirk, "you ever hooked up with anyone at one of your little frat parties?"

he pauses, clearly not expecting you to ask that, then chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“uh, i mean… yeah, i’ve... hooked up with people, just not, like... that much, y'know?” he looks down at his phone, like maybe he can escape the conversation if he stares hard enough.

you let the silence hang for a moment, taking a calculated breath before leaning in slightly, watching the way his body tenses. "really? i find that hard to believe, especially for a guy as handsome as you," you say, your voice low.

he glances at you quickly, his eyes darting away when they meet yours. it’s cute—his usual cocky frat boy act falling apart under your attention.

“i mean, i’ve just been busy with school, that's all. not like i’m... avoiding it,” he mutters, but you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze that there’s more to it than just being "busy."

you smile knowingly, then shift just a little closer on the couch, your knee brushing his. it's subtle, but you notice the way he freezes at the contact. "y'know," you say casually, your voice low, "if you haven't had a real hookup, maybe i should, like, show you what you’re missing."

luigi's eyes widen, his gaze snapping to yours. for a moment, he seems frozen, processing your words. his brows press together a little. "and what exactly would that entail?"

you lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing his ear. "well," you murmur, "i could start by showing you how to properly kiss someone." your hand slides onto his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his sweats. "then maybe we could explore a few... other things."

luigi swallows hard, his breath catching. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he's holding himself back.

"i, uh... i think i'd like that," he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

you pull back slightly, meeting his eyes. there's a mix of desire and nervousness in his gaze that sends a thrill through you. you decide to take charge, knowing he needs a little push.

"come here," you say softly, cupping his face with your free hand. you guide him closer, feeling his warm breath against your lips. pausing just a tiny bit away from his face, you let the anticipation build for a moment before closing the distance.

the kiss starts gentle, almost tentative. luigi's lips are soft, and you can taste a hint of the beer he'd been drinking earlier. as you deepen the kiss, you feel him relax into it, his hand coming up to rest on your waist.

you break away briefly, watching his face. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across his cheeks. when his eyes flutter open, they're dark with want. "how was that?” you ask, grinning "so good." luigi's voice comes out barely a whisper. his eyes are still locked on yours, filled with a mixture of awe and growing desire. you can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "oh, we're just getting started," you murmur, running your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into your touch.

"show me more," he breathes, and the vulnerability in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

you shift, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap. his hands instinctively move to your hips, gripping tightly as if to steady himself. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the slight tremor in his fingers.

"you’re so shaky," you whisper, placing your hands on his chest. you can feel his heart racing beneath your palms. as you sit in his lap you can feel him hardening beneath you.

“are you already fucking hard?” you scoff, a smug grin playing on your lips. he can’t even look you in the eyes. “sorry,” he mutters. you look down at him,

"that’s right." you say, your voice husky. you grind down against him slightly, eliciting a soft gasp.

luigi's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face—the desire to let go warring with his nervousness.

you lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw. "relax," you murmur against his skin. "just feel."

his head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. you take the opportunity to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark that will be visible tomorrow. the thought of everyone seeing it, knowing what you did, sends a thrill through you.

luigi lets out a low moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "god," he breathes.

“i've never done this before, i'm sorry” he says, looking up at you with his wide brown eyes. he says it so desperately, and you know in that moment, you need to fucking ruin him.

"shh," you soothe, cupping his face in your hands. "i'm gonna take care of that."

his eyes search yours, vulnerability and trust shining in them. you lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. as you explore his mouth with your tongue, you feel some of the tension leave his body.

your hands slide down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt. when you reach the hem, you break the kiss just long enough to murmur, "can i take this off?"

luigi nods eagerly, lifting his arms to help you remove the shirt. as it comes off, you can't help but admire his toned physique. your fingers trace the lines of his abs, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

"you're fuckin’ perfect," you breathe, leaning in to press kisses along his collarbone. he's unbearably hard beneath you and you can feel his erection pressing into your inner thigh. you grind down against him again, relishing the way his breath hitches.

"please," luigi whimpers, his hips jerking up to meet yours.

"please what?" you tease, nipping at his earlobe. "use your words, lu." he swallows hard, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

"i... i need..." he trails off, struggling to articulate his desires. you decide to take pity on him.

"you want me to touch you?" you ask, your hand hovering just above the waistband of his sweats.

luigi nods frantically. "yes, god yes." he breathes.

slowly, torturously, you slide your hand beneath the fabric. when your fingers wrap around his length, luigi lets out a strangled moan, his head falling back against the couch. he's already dripping precum you stroke him slowly, savoring the way he trembles beneath you.

his cock is hot and heavy in your hand, pulsing with each movement. you use his precum to slick your motions, making each stroke smoother.

"fuck," luigi gasps, his hips bucking into your touch. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as he pants heavily.

you lean in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

"does that feel good, baby?" you murmur against his skin.

he nods, unable to form words. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

you speed up your strokes, twisting your wrist on the upstroke in a way that makes him cry out. "you're so responsive," you mutter, nipping at his earlobe. "i love it."

“i'm close,” he whines.you stop abruptly, pushing off his chest to look down at him. he’s looking up at you, wide eyed and needy.

“why'd you stop?” he practically begs.

“did i say you could fucking finish?” you chuckle cruelly.

“please,” he whines, his voice shaky.

“please let me finish,” he groans.

"anything you want, luigi" you coo, sliding down his lap and kneeling on the floor in front on the couch, both your hands planted on his thighs. you drag his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles, letting his erection spring free, his tip pink and swollen, glistening with precum.

"i'll let you finish," you say, taking his length in your hand before guiding the tip into your mouth. he's completely overwhelmed by the sight of you stroking him, taking him in your mouth and sucking softly.

"fuck," he breathes, his head falling back against the couch. his hands grasp at your hair as you slide your mouth down around his cock. you let him hit the back of your throat as you look up at him. you move up and down, the sound of you gagging on his thick cock fills the room.

he's lost in the sensation, his hips thrusting forward into your mouth, trying desperately to chase his release. he's so close, his entire body tense.

"fuck, please," he pleads, his voice strained. "let me cum, please." you pull off him, stroking him hard and fast. "beg for it," you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

"please," luigi begs, his voice cracking. "i need to cum, please let me cum." you continue to stroke him, feeling his cock throb in your hand.

"let go, baby" you murmur, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his tip.

"oh, fuck" he moans, his hips jerking erratically as his orgasm hits him.

you swallow down every drop of his cum, continuing to stroke him through his climax. he's gasping and shuddering, his fingers tangled in your hair.

when he's finally spent, you sit back, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

"you felt so fucking good," he pants, a smile spreading across his face.

"oh, you thought we were done?" you stifle a laugh.

"i'm nowhere near fuckin' finished with you." you say, his smile fading as you pull down your skirt and panties before climbing back onto his lap.

"but i just finished-" he says softly before you cut him off.

"you didn't think i was done with you did you? i haven't even come yet, luigi" you say, guiding his hand between your legs.

"just touch me," you command, pressing his hand firmly against your dripping cunt. he can feel how wet you are, how much you want him. he has no idea what to do, his fingers fumbling around between your thighs, his hand shaky.

"god, you're fucking useless." you mutter, gripping his cock firmly, slowly guiding him towards your entrance.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this." you whisper, almost to yourself, slowly lowering yourself down on him, inch by inch.

you let out a low moan as you sink down fully, taking him all the way inside of you. he lets out a sharp gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily. he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes, his lips slightly puffy from being kissed.

"god, you're fucking perfect" you moan, your head tilting back in pleasure as you start to move. he's still overwhelmed by the new sensations, his eyes squeezing shut as you ride him.

"god, it's too much" he gasps, his fingers digging into you. you're lost in the feeling of him inside you, filling you up.

"i know, baby, i know." you mutter, moving more roughly. he moans with every movement, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. he's completely under your spell, his body responding to yours.

"fuck, i'm close" he moans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"not yet," you order, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back.

"i can't take it," he whines, looking up at you once again, his eyes glassy, tears hanging from his dark eyelashes.

"shut the fuck up and take it." you groan, picking up the pace. he cries out as you ride him harder and faster, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room.

"god, you feel so good," you moan, leaning down to kiss him deeply. you break the kiss, staring at his pretty face. he's all fucked out and crying,

"you're being so rough," he sobs.

"cum for me," you murmur, feeling your own orgasm approaching.

"god, i'm close" he manages to say, his voice strained and shaky.

"cum." you respond harshly, riding him harder.

he lets out a loud groan as he cums inside you, his cock twitching inside you. the feeling of him spilling inside you pushes you over the edge, and you cry out, your walls clenching around him.

as you both come down from your highs, the realization of what just happened starts to sink in. luigi's gaze falls away from yours, and he lets his head rest against the couch.

"you okay?" you ask, a little out of breath.

"yeah, just... a lot." he sniffles.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione fanfic #real person fiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fanfiction

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kisakunt · 3 days ago

Text

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

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thursdayinspace · 3 days ago

Text

Okay, this is pure filth. It's been a long day and I needed to write something. Which seems to be becoming a pattern. It's fun though. Anyway, I wrote this thing a little while ago (Mulder on the phone with the boss while Scully... has some fun with him), and thought it might be fun to write it the other way around too.

He sighs and casts another look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s been four minutes and she’s still talking, still on the phone with Skinner, and his patience is slowly running out. She’s stretched out on the bed before him and he kneels by her feet where he’s been waiting ever since she answered that damned phone and he had to stop what he was doing. What on earth can they still be talking about that’s so important?

He lets his gaze sweep up and down her body, and something hot and hungry boils low in his gut as he takes her in. She’s lying here naked, thighs parted, her hair already sex-messy and her skin flushed, and she’s still talking to Skinner. She’s wet and turned on and ready to be fucked, and it’s Skinner who’s holding her attention. God, he’s not particularly proud of the primal possessiveness that rushes through him, but he can’t help it. Mine, he thinks. Skinner can’t have her. He knows she doesn’t want Skinner. And yet Skinner is still the one talking to her while she’s lying here looking like this.

“Yes, sir,” she’s saying, sounding calm and collected, “Yes, that’s good.”

And he can’t take it anymore. He pushes her thighs further apart and lowers himself down, just catching the surprised expression on her face before he holds her open with eager fingers and thrusts his tongue into her. He hears her gasp and dives in deeper, slides his arms under her thighs to hold her open and finds her clit with his mouth. It’s still swollen and sensitive from earlier, before they were interrupted, and he sucks on it hard as her free hand grips onto his hair.

“Of course,” she says. “I agree.”

Her voice sounds too casual, too normal, and he flicks her with his tongue in the way he knows drives her mad, pleased when her hips buck off the mattress and he feels the muscles in her thighs clenching.

With a moan, he runs his tongue through her folds, greedy and insatiable, drowning in the taste and smell of her. This is for him, all for him. Skinner can be in her ear, but he’s the one who has his face buried in her cunt, making her breath coming faster as she starts to tremble.

“I—” Her voice is starting to sound a little strained and he feels his cock throbbing at the sound. “I think that… would be a good idea, yes.”

She’s not listening anymore, he can tell. He’s buzzing with the thrill of it: another man talking to her, but she can focus only on him, he’s the one driving her wild, giving her pleasure like nobody else is allowed to. Her wetness is all over his face, her body completely at his mercy. He brings one hand between her legs and thrusts three fingers into her, crooking them upwards to find that spot inside that draws a suppressed whimper out of her.

“Yeah,” she says, carefully controlled. “I’m okay, just, uh. What were you saying?”

He knows how she likes to be touched. He knows how to tease her with his tongue while his fingers are fucking her in a relentless rhythm. He knows, he knows every inch and corner of her, he knows how to make her forget her own name. God, he wants to be inside her. He wants to ram his aching cock into her tight heat and fuck her until the bed collapses under them, until she comes so hard she screams, and he wants Skinner on the phone for the whole thing, showing him that he can’t have her. Nobody else can have her. She belongs to him, only to him, and he’ll prove it. He’ll show her who owns her.

She’s shaking with the effort to hold still and he knows she’s trying to hold back. Good. He has her where he wants her, right on the edge. Right at the point where she becomes helpless against her need, where he’s in perfect control of her pleasure. He could make her come right now and she knows it, and her nails are scratching his scalp and her body goes tight. She’s not pulling him off or pushing him away.

He lifts his head long enough to look up and see her eyes squeezed closed as she’s biting her lip, keeping herself from making any sounds, and if she has no intention of stopping, then neither does he.

It takes seconds after that, mere seconds of his lips and tongue and fingers working her over, until her body arches off the bed and her breath comes in stuttering gasps, and she’s coming, coming, coming.

The temptation to touch himself is almost overwhelming, but he has other plans.

As her body slumps back against the bed he finally pulls away, raises himself up to take a proper look at her. She has the phone pressed into the mattress by her side and her chest is heaving, a dazed expression on her face, and she looks… she looks like a woman who just had an orgasm. Beautiful.

Holding her gaze, he slowly reaches for the phone. It slips easily from her grasp, and he lifts it to his ear, hearing Skinner’s voice still on the other end: “Agent Scully? Agent Scully, are you there?”

He hangs up, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Agent Scully,” he says in a chastising tone. “That was very unprofessional.”

For a second, she tries to glare at him, but then starts laughing instead, covering her face with her hands. “Holy shit, Mulder,” she says.

“What did he want?”

She drops her hands and shakes her head. “I don’t remember.”

“Well.” He holds up the phone again, giving her a challenging look. “You should call him back to find out.”

“I probably should,” she agrees. “What do I say if he asks me why I hung up on him?”

“You’ll come up with something,” he says, then lowers himself on top of her, between her spread legs.

“What are you—” she starts before her eyes widen with realization. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.”

“Mulder, this is—”

“Stop me, then,” he says, nudging her opening with the tip of his cock, waiting there for her decision.

She keeps her eyes locked with his as she wraps her legs around his waist, and then takes the phone from his hand, only breaking eye contact to dial their boss’s number. She brings the phone to her ear, and as he hears Skinner answering on the other end, she digs her heels into his ass and lets out a long exhale as he enters her in one long, smooth motion.

“Yeah, it’s me again,” she says. “I’m sorry, sir, the call got disconnected. Old phone, I think I need to replace it.”

Mulder lowers his head and smiles against the soft skin of her neck as he snaps his hips forward hard. She’s his. One hundred percent. And she owns him too, heart, body and soul, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #fic #poangpals #ficlet

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gothamite-rambler · 1 day ago

Text

Hawkgirl (brightly, spotting him): Batman, how are—Baby!

Batman looked around, immediately realizing she was referring to his Robin (Dick Grayson, 9). He groaned, already aware of where this was going.

Robin!Dick (enthusiastically waving): Hi! I'm Robin! I can do flips and tricks!

Hawkgirl (eyes sparkling, thrilled): Oh my Goddess! You're the Robin? He's the Robin?

Robin!Dick: Yeah!

Batman nodded, clenching his jaw as he watched Hawkgirl rush over and scoop up the little boy, pulling him into a tight hug.

Batman (matter-of-factly, annoyed): He’s a biter... And not a baby.

Robin!Dick (defensively, grinning): Batman, shush. I’m not going to bite her; she’s sweet!

Hawkgirl (gently rubbing her cheek against the child's sidekick's cheek): Oh, you’re just so precious and adorable! I can't believe how… cute you are!

Robin!Dick (giggling): Aww!

Years later, when Dick Grayson had grown up to become Nightwing, Hawkgirl approached him with the same energy, hugging the man like he was still a child.

Hawkgirl (playfully, smiling at him): Someone ate his veggies, and you’re still cute! I hope to have a kid like you because I’d be proud of them too.

Batman (walking past the two, coffee in hand, rolling his eyes): Christ.

Nightwing (beaming, genuinely happy): This is the best day of my life. Thank you for not flirting with me in a creepy way.

Hawkgirl: Kid, I knew you when you were a kid. Don't worry about that.

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starlemons · 3 days ago

Text

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART THREE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.2K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, mention of hospitals/emergency rooms, honestly pretty fluffy, cussing

A/N ✦ i've been on a writing streak the last few days, i'm already working on part four, hopefully should post it by tomorrow :)

PART TWO »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

You felt like absolute shit. Your whole body ached and waves of nausea flowed through you. Slowly you lifted your heavy eyelids and looked around. Nat, Clint, Thor, and Wanda all sat around you as you laid in a hospital bed.

“Y/N’s awake.”, Wanda said to the others.

Everyone looked towards you.

“How you feeling?”, Clint asked.

“Awful.”, you groaned, “What the fuck even happened?”

Your memories of the previous night were a blur. The group looked around to each other silently debating who would fill you in.

“Do you remember anything?”, Nat questioned.

“I remember up to when we were on the dance floor but after that, nothing.”

Nat relayed the previous night's events to you, adding details of what happened after you blacked out. Like the fact that Bucky had personally driven you and Nat to the emergency room, and slipped one of the nurses a couple hundred to make sure you got the best treatment possible.

“He also had me give him your phone number so he could check up on you.”

Internally you lit up, thrilled at the thought of the handsome man caring about your wellbeing. However, something cut through your mind, temporarily interrupting your joy.

“Did he get in trouble for fighting that guy?”

“There was no way in hell that guy was going to be calling the cops after what he tried to do to you so no trouble there and Bucky can’t get in trouble with the club seeing as he owns it.”, Nat said, “I found that out on our drive to the hospital because I had the same thought as you.”

Your brain was trying to process all of the information you had just been given, almost feeling overwhelmed by it.

A soft knock on the door turned all of your attention that way. A blonde nurse in baby blue scrubs was leaning her shoulder against the door as she opened it, a large vase of pink roses and tulips clutched in her hands.

“Miss (Y/L/N), these just got delivered for you.”, she smiled at you.

Thor stood and retrieved the flowers from her. Setting them down on the thick window ledge, he plucked the card from the stand it sat on, and handed it to you. You opened the envelope shakily, your body was still not fully recovered from last night.

Hey Sweetheart, Let me know when you get out of the hospital, I sent you a text so you have my number. Hope you’re okay. I’m here if you need anything ━ Bucky

Your face blossomed with a blush.

“Who are they from?”, Clint asked.

With a wide grin you responded, “Bucky.”

A few hours later and the emergency room doctors finally cleared you to go home. Your friends helped you gather your belongings, Clint and Wanda telling you goodbye as you guys reached the parking lot. Thor kindly gave you and Nat a ride back home to your apartment.

After dropping you guys off he yelled from his car window, "Bye guys! Love you both!"

"Bye Thor, we love you too!", you and Nat yelled back to him as you continued up the sidewalk and into your apartment building.

After you crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately headed to your bedroom.

“I’m going to go shower and get this hospital smell off of me.”, you told Nat.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be out here watching TV.”

Entering your room, you immediately shed your dress from the previous night, tossing it into your dirty clothes hamper. You dug through your dresser selecting a pair of baggy grey sweats and one of your favorite oversized shirts.

After grabbing your clothes you head to your bathroom. Entering, you set your outfit and phone down on the sink, going to turn your shower on. You twist the hot water knob to the on position, the sound of trickling water filling the room.

You moved back to the counter grabbing your phone. As you unlocked it you saw a text from a number you didn’t have saved.

UNKOWN: Let me know when you’re back home, I’ve been worried about you.

UNKOWN: This is Bucky btw.

You smiled, saving his name in your phone, and shot him back a text.

Y/N: I’m back home, still not feeling amazing, but I’ll survive. Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.

Bucky quickly sent you a response.

BUCKY: I hoped they might cheer you up a bit. Y/N: They definitely did. Also thank you for last night, I appreciate it more than you know.

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared several times. You closed out of your messages, opening your music streaming app and turning on your favorite playlist. Locking your phone you set it back down on the counter and stepped into the shower.

You felt some of the tension in your back slowly fade as warm water trickled down your body. After relaxing in the hot water for what you deemed long enough, you began to wash yourself, scrubbing a little too hard, trying to get the smell of the hospital off of you as well as the metaphorical feeling of Caleb's hands.

Once you felt that you were sufficiently clean, you grabbed a light green towel off the wall, wrapping it around your body.

You reached for your phone again.

BUCKY: I’m just glad you're safe.

You saw that several minutes had passed in between that text and the following ones he sent.

BUCKY: Go to dinner with me? BUCKY: Only if you want to of course. I don’t want you to think you have to say yes just because I helped you yesterday.

‘Men that respect boundaries are so hot’, you thought to yourself.

Y/N: Of course, I would really like that.

You set your phone down again. Drying your hair and doing your skincare. After you finished, you exited the bathroom and flopped down onto your fluffy pink comforter. Exhaustion started taking over you and you crawled under your blankets, snuggling into your pillows.

Your phone buzzed beside your head.

BUCKY: Let me know when you’re free next, I have the perfect place we can go. Y/N: I’m going to take a nap, but when I wake up I’ll check my schedule and see what days I’m not doing anything. Bucky: Perfect, sleep well sweetheart, ttyl.

You smiled softly, butterflies forming in your stomach.

You reached for your TV remote, turning on a show to play as background noise while you slept. Your eyes closed, feeling very heavy and within minutes you were asleep.

Nat eventually came into your room and woke you up, letting you get a five hour nap in. She had made the two of you dinner, spaghetti and garlic toast. Your stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of food. Laughing, you followed her into the kitchen.

You pulled up your calendar on your phone, seeing when your next day off was, and texting the information to Bucky.

Y/N: Just looked and my next day off is Tuesday. BUCKY: I’ll pick you up at 7? Y/N: That works for me :) I’ll send you my address.

After texting him your address you put your phone away, enjoying your dinner with your roommate as you guys watched TV. The two of you made it through several episodes of your show, before Nat started yawning, saying she was going to head to bed. You both went to the kitchen, rising your dishes and headed down the hall into your respective rooms.

You fell asleep, bubbling with excitement over your upcoming date with Bucky.

PART FOUR

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

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spatialwave · 2 days ago

Text

V's All That

Chapter 4 || The Movie

➥ Summary: Jayce Talis, the school's golden boy and a guaranteed pick for Prom King, seems to have it all—looks, charm, and popularity. However, when Kino presents him with the opportunity to win back Mel, his ex-girlfriend and the one who got away, Jayce jumps at the chance. The challenge? To transform Viktor, a snarky outcast who is as far from popular as possible, into Prom King instead. Jayce takes the bait, but he may have taken on more than he can handle. ➥ Word Count: 4.4k ➥ Pairing: Jayce Talis x Viktor || Arcane

🧡 beta'd by @spxllcxstxr 🩷 art by @wapimostosis 🧡 available on ao3

<- part 3.

“...Hello?”

“Hey! How’s it going?”

“Jayce? How’d you get my number?” Viktor’s voice was a mix of surprise and irritation as he spoke through the telephone, voice crackling from the poor connection. In the background, Jayce could hear the low murmur of a television.

“Sky gave it to me. I tried looking you up in the phonebook, then realized I don’t know your last name.” Jayce’s voice was light, a smile spreading across his face as he twirled around the cord of his landline phone between his fingers. He was sprawled across the mess of pillows at the head of his bed, the warm glow of his bedside lamp illuminating him.

“Weirdo. You do know you could have just asked for it from me, right?” Viktor hummed as he held the receiver tighter to his ear and leaned against the wall, rolling his eyes.

The week had raced by; Tuesday night’s D&D session was a forgotten blur, and the weekend loomed ahead as Friday slipped into the night—the moon bright in the sky.

An entire week of Jayce relentlessly weaving his way into the fabric of Viktor’s life, seizing every opportunity that came his way—the short drive to school in the mornings that he graciously offered, the casual wave and smile exchanged in the busy halls, or the sneaky notes passed during class. Viktor wanted to be angry about it, to look the other way and crumple the notes without a reply, but his curiosity sparked brighter every time Jayce prodded at him. He turned a blind eye to the question lingering in the back of his mind: What was Jayce wanting out of this?

“Yeah, well,” Jayce’s voice broke through Viktor’s thoughts, “You’re scary.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh, and it sent a thrill through Jayce as his stomach swirled. A feeling he’d grown familiar with since he’d met him.

“You do realize how late it is, right?” Viktor murmured, a hint of playfulness on his tongue.

“You don’t like late-night chats?” Jayce teased, gaze fixed upwards at the ceiling. Zoned out, listening to every sound that came from the other end of the line.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a telephone in my bedroom. I’m standing in my kitchen, and it’s very cold. I’d rather be in bed.” Viktor spoke sternly, but his voice was tinged with amusement. His eyes flickered to the digital clock displayed on the stove, and the red numbers glared back at him, a reminder that it was well past midnight.

“How’d you know I’m in my room?”

Viktor chuckled, “Lucky guess. Goodnight, Jayce.”

The dial tone hit Jayce’s ear before he had the chance to utter his own goodbye, left holding the buzzing receiver as he wore a toothy grin. “Night,” he murmured, exhaling a shaky breath as he rolled over and hung up the phone. All that effort for a thirty-second call, and even with the short amount of time he was given—he was giddy. Smiling to himself, he turned off his lamp and buried his face into the pillow. The only light illuminating him was the cool tones of the moon that poured through the open curtains.

Viktor, on the other hand, well, he couldn’t catch a break. Not even over the weekend. He stood in the kitchen leaning against the wall with his hand clutched over his t-shirt, eyes staring out the open window above the kitchen sink. He hated it—how his heart hammered so hard in his chest that he felt faint. All from what?

A phone call from Jayce?

He needed to pull himself together, take a step back, and reevaluate a week that had been unlike any other in his four years of high school. He was beginning to receive strange looks in the hall and sneers from those who questioned why Jayce, of all people, wanted his attention.

As he tossed and turned in bed, all he could think about was Jayce and that goddamn smile that melted his heart. The gap between his front teeth, his hazel eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed too hard—normal things that he really shouldn’t have been noticing, but they were etched into his mind.

Perhaps the rest of the weekend would provide respite and the opportunity to think over everything. Though, that wasn’t in the cards, and he knew it.

When Saturday rolled around, Jayce woke up knowing that he had to keep up his persistence; he couldn’t let the weekend go by without seeing Viktor. It was all for the bet, of course. The sooner he befriended him, the more time he would have to help him climb the social ladder and the easier it would be to make him Prom King.

He reminded himself of this as he stood on Viktor’s doorstep, uninvited, with the sun high in the sky, warming the exposed skin of his biceps. It was past noon, and when he knocked on the door, he was surprised to receive no response.

His eyes shifted to the driveway, where a vehicle was parked, and he huffed in frustration. Taking a step back, he looked over the home—this was the right address.

Once more, he knocked on the door firmly until it opened hastily. “Yes, yes, what is it?” a voice drawled. An unfamiliar man stood in the doorway—his tired eyes, sunken cheeks, bald head, and glasses perched low on his hooked nose, giving him a weary appearance. “Oh, can I help you?”

Jayce’s eyes widened as he looked at the man, straightening up and considering the high likelihood that this person was Viktor’s father. This was it; he needed to make a good impression.

He nodded and cleared his throat while a casual smile spread across his lips. “Is Viktor here? I’m Jayce Talis, a friend of his from school. Are you…”

“Dr. Reveck,” the man replied, a small, knowing smile growing on his lips as he looked Jayce up and down, assessing this unfamiliar stranger. “Hm. Nice to meet you, Jayce.”

Dr. Reveck opened the door wider, stepping aside to invite him into the rather beautiful home. It felt a bit sad and empty, lacking colour and decoration, but nonetheless, it was well-maintained and lovely. Surprising, especially for this part of town, Jayce thought.

“You too. You’ve got a nice home. Really nice,” Jayce said with ease, his eyes flickering around as he walked further into the foyer. “Is it a bad time?” His hazel eyes shifted to the car keys in the man’s hands, noticing he was about to leave.

“Actually, I was just on my way out. Viktor is upstairs, second door on the right,” the doctor said with that same small, eerie smile on his lips as he motioned toward the stairs, urging Jayce to go.

“Oh, well, I don’t need to go all the way up there. I don’t want to intrude; he technically didn’t invite—”

“I’m sorry, but I am really in a rush. It was nice to meet you, Jayce.”

“Wait—” Jayce began, but the door was promptly shut in his face. He stared blankly at the back of the white door, caught in a situation where he felt he was intruding too much for his own good. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured under his breath as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up the stairs, debating whether to leave or make his way up.

Ultimately, Jayce decided on the latter. If Dr. Reveck let him in, then maybe Viktor was expecting him. Maybe.

The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he slowly ascended them, his eyes glancing over the few pictures hung on the wall. One in particular caught his attention, prompting him to stop in his tracks. It was an older photo framed in dark mahogany wood—Dr. Reveck, Viktor, and a young girl with bright hair and eyes. Viktor, leaning on a cane, looked slightly out of place but still appeared happy.

Where was his mother?

Jayce pulled his gaze away and continued up the stairs, his curious eyes scanning his surroundings as he reached the second floor. He turned the corner, his gaze settling on the door Dr. Reveck had instructed him to go to, and suddenly, his stomach twisted. This felt wrong. He imagined Viktor kicking him out, accusing him of being a stalker for showing up unannounced.

Despite his doubts, he pressed on, unable to hold himself back. He walked down the empty hallway, cringing as the floorboards creaked beneath him—lips parting to call out for Viktor to break the heavy silence that weighed him down.

Then, Viktor slowly emerged from his bedroom, half-asleep, his brown hair wild and sticking out in every direction. He rubbed his eyes to shake off the sleep and turned down the hall toward Jayce, who wore a horrified expression as if he had just been caught in the act of murder.

“Hey—” He attempted awkwardly, crinkling his nose.

“What the hell!” Viktor exclaimed, dropping his hands and jumping back, his eyes wide as they landed on Jayce. He nearly stumbled without his cane but managed to steady himself. He was used to slow and steady movements at home—not being jump-scared by classmates. Clutching his oversized shirt, several sizes too big for him, he looked Jayce up and down. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Jayce took a step back, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He raised his hands in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were asleep!”

Neither of them could catch a break.

“Did you break in?”

“What? No—” Jayce exclaimed, his eyes widening. “Your dad let me in.”

“Fucking hell,” Viktor sighed dramatically. His arms relaxed at his sides as he closed his eyes for a moment to steady his racing heart. “Sorry, that was accusatory. I just… fuck.” He looked back at Jayce, frowning. “You can’t just show up at people’s houses uninvited. Why are you here?”

“Well,” Jayce said, popping his lips together as he reached into his front pocket to pull out two small slips of paper, “I was going to see if you wanted to watch a movie with me this afternoon. Then, your dad—”

“Not my dad.”

“Oh, okay. Well, whoever he is, he invited me in and told me I could come to your room, so I figured you were awake. If it were up to me, I would’ve waited downstairs.” Jayce explained, praying Viktor wouldn’t kick him out. “I’m sorry.”

Viktor’s right hand reached out, steadying himself against the wall. He wanted to kick Jayce out and yell at him for disturbing him and never to show his face again, hoping to leave behind whatever was happening between them. But that’s not what he really wanted.

Even after being terrified to near death, he couldn’t blame Jayce. Dr. Reveck was far too lost in his own mind to make sound judgments, so if anyone needed to be blamed, it would be him. Leave it up to him to invite strangers into their home.

Viktor was grasping for any small reason to keep Jayce around.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I just… wasn’t expecting anyone,” He murmured, attention moving to the two movie tickets in Jayce’s hand—his heart skipped a beat. "Which movie?”

“Kill Bill Two.” Jayce showed them off, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “Popcorn and drinks are on me.”

Viktor stared at him, wondering if his blushing cheeks were noticeable. Even if they were, he didn’t care because Jayce Talis was at his house unannounced, asking him to go to the movies. Jayce Talis. The entire week felt like a fever dream, and it seemed like it would never end. He didn’t want it to end.

“You like Kill Bill?” Viktor raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“I haven’t watched the first one, but Sky said—”

“You asked Sky again? Jayce, you know you can ask me, right?” Viktor let out an exasperated sound, his free hand landing over his hip.

“You just accused me of breaking in! You’re scary!” Jayce exclaimed back, a big smile spread across his face as the tension between them dissipated. He was luckier than he liked to think.

Viktor snorted, smirking, “You’re incredibly annoying. This is the first and last time I’ll go to the movies with you. Only because I feel bad that you’re wasting your money.”

“I’m not wasting it,” Jayce shrugged, his eyes softening into those big doe eyes that made Viktor’s insides burn hot, “If you said no, I would refund them and ask you next weekend.”

“Oh,” Viktor mumbled, mouth growing dry. He turned his gaze away, waving his hand at him dismissively, “Wait downstairs. I’ll get ready.”

Jayce’s demeanour brightened as he followed the instructions. Heavy steps echoed down the stairs, and he paused to examine the photo that had first caught his eye. He knew that Viktor was a private person; despite their few morning drives to school and passing notes, he still knew nothing about Viktor's personal life.

His gaze settled on the younger girl in the photo, who resembled Dr. Reveck, and he wondered who she was. However, he quickly dismissed the thought and returned to the main floor. He lingered in the foyer, busying himself with the mirror that hung on the wall, now covered in a layer of dust. He carefully fixed his hair and rubbed his growing stubble—he’d need to shave soon.

Time passed quickly while he focused on his appearance, his solitude interrupted by the sound of Viktor’s cane tapping against the wooden stairs as they creaked beneath him. Jayce looked up as he reached the bottom of the stairs, still wearing that same Deftones shirt he seemed so fond of. It had started to get a hole in the bottom seam, the thread fraying.

“If you’re hungry, I can grab you some food at a drive-thru before the movie starts,” Jayce suggested thoughtfully, waiting at the bottom of the stairs with his fingers curled around his keys.

Viktor gripped the railing of the staircase with his left hand. “I’m not very hungry. Thanks, though.” He straightened himself as he reached the bottom of the stairs, but it was no use—Jayce still towered over him.

“You sure? Breakfast is important,” Jayce said, leading the way out the front door and watching as Viktor locked up behind them.

“I hardly think junk food breakfast is important.” Viktor teased, slipping his house keys into his front pocket as he turned around to look at Jayce. He appeared so ethereal under the sun's warm light, his sun-kissed skin glowing, the golden undertones in his brown hair glistening, and his toothy smile shining. Viktor dropped his gaze, knowing very well that appreciating Jayce’s attractiveness was dangerous territory.

When they reached the theatre, Viktor was thankful for the distraction of the movie. He’d spent nearly the entire ride stealing glances at Jayce; he needed to focus on something else before he acted on the feelings swirling in his mind—feelings he knew weren’t mutual.

“There’s… no one else here,” Jayce mumbled as they moved into the third-to-last row of the theatre, nestled right in the middle. He held the popcorn on his lap, lifting a hand to remove the candy bag he had held between his teeth while Viktor set their drinks into the cup holders. After one more quick glance around the theatre, he swallowed down a nervous lump, not wanting to admit the nerves flooding his stomach at the prospect of being alone with Viktor for well over two hours.

Viktor hummed in acknowledgment and glanced around, taking in the empty theatre. “Saturday matinee shows are popular with families. I don’t think many parents are taking their toddlers to Kill Bill.” He reached over, taking a handful of popcorn and popping a few into his mouth as he watched the movie previews play over the large screen.

“I didn’t peg you as a Quentin Tarantino lover,” Jayce murmured, still keeping his voice hushed. “I thought you liked Lord of the Rings and Star Trek, that kind of stuff.” He reached into the buttered popcorn, indulging in the salty snack.

“Wow. You sure like to assume, don’t you?” Viktor mumbled, wiping the salt from his hands with a flimsy napkin. “I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I went to the first one with Sky last year on Halloween and really liked it. I haven’t seen any of his other films.”

“Really? You’re not a fan?” Jayce’s eyes widened as he looked over at him, swallowing down his handful of popcorn. “I thought you were a movie buff.”

“Hardly. I prefer reading or playing games,” Viktor answered honestly. “I like some movies.”

“So you haven’t watched Pulp Fiction? Now that’s a classic,” Jayce said. “I have it on VHS.”

“Honestly, he seems like a pretentious director,” Viktor shrugged, taking more popcorn into his hands and meeting Jayce’s gaze, smiling. “Are you a movie buff?”

“I like movies, but I wouldn’t call myself a buff—just a casual enjoyer,” Jayce smiled, his eyes returning to the screen as the previews came to an end. The lights in the room began to dim until the only illumination came from the projector.

“I hope you’re not a chatter at the cinema, Jayce. Don’t you know anything about theatre etiquette?” Viktor kept his eyes ahead, grinning as he dug into the candies and pushed one between his teeth.

“I am. The worst of the worst, unfortunately.” Jayce hummed, leaning to his right against the arm of the seat between them. Viktor didn’t mind; he leaned to his left until their arms brushed together, leaving his stomach in a swirling mess, but he pushed past it.

He wanted this. Whatever this was.

“How annoying,” Viktor responded, smiling to himself as he let his mind relax and focused on the movie.

It was two hours of pure torture—for both. Jayce asked one too many questions, which resulted in Viktor giving him the cold shoulder for fifteen minutes until he got the memo, and their hands bumped together as they reached for popcorn enough times that they put it aside by mid-way through the film. The gentle contact was enough to spark a fire between them, their bodies and cheeks growing hot as they tried to ignore the awkward tension.

It’s not a date, Jayce reminded himself several times, giving himself a mental reprimand for shivering anytime his fingers brushed against Viktor’s and the handful of times he found himself glancing over and staring—the flickering light of the big screen brightening his tired features. Admiring him until Viktor would glance over, and he’d quickly snap his head back to the movie.

It had been going well for Viktor, as he fully immersed himself in the movie, but there was one moment he knew he would think about over and over while he fell asleep. In a rather intense scene at the end of the film, they both jumped in their seats, and their hands clasped together. Their fingers intertwined for a brief moment, and a few seconds later, they both realized their mistake.

“Oh, sorry,” Jayce huffed, pulling his hand away and wiping it over his jeans. Clammy from the touch—that was going to stay with him for a while.

“It’s okay,” Viktor muttered, his breath catching in his throat as his hands clasped together on his lap. “You’re… really sweaty.” He chuckled, smiling to himself as he kept his eyes focused ahead and saw the look Jayce shot him in his peripheral vision.

“Shut up.”

As the movie ended, both stood up, groaning from their few hours in the uncomfortable seats. There wasn’t enough cheap fabric to make them comfortable.

“Was the first one better? I probably should’ve watched it before this. Was she after Bill in both movies?” Jayce spoke through the chews of the last piece of candy as they exited the empty theatre.

“Nope, not as good as the first one,” Viktor said bluntly, their popcorn and drinks discarded into the trash bins they passed by, “and yes, you definitely should’ve watched the first one.” He inhaled deeply as they stepped outside, the spring breeze chilly on his skin. Feeling brave, he looked up at Jayce and spoke, “We should watch Pulp Fiction tonight. You said you have it on VHS, right? Maybe you can convince me to become a Tarantino fan.”

Jayce’s eyes widened, and he looked at Viktor as they made their way down the street toward his parked car. His heart thumped into his ribs, and he beamed, “Tonight? I mean, yeah—wait. Shit. I can’t.” He groaned, “There’s a party tonight at Maddie’s. Her parents are gone for the weekend, so… yeah.”

“Oh,” he murmured, hoping his deflated attitude wasn’t obvious. That was the last time he’d go out of his way to ask someone to hang out, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have assumed you were free on a Saturday night, Mr. Popular.”

Jayce chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at Viktor as he shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets. “You should come,” he suggested, offering a not-so-convincing smile.

Viktor paused, staring up at Jayce as he laughed—a genuine laugh that bubbled up from his chest. He shook his head, smiling big. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Jayce whined, taking a step closer to him so he could bump his arm against his, “You’re not as awkward as I pegged you to be. You’ll be fine.”

“My social skills have nothing to do with this,” Viktor corrected him, shaking his head in disbelief, “I just don’t like people. I’m allowed to dislike people. It’s my right to freedom of expression.”

Jayce pouted, jutting out his bottom lip, “Please?”

Both men paused in their steps, staring at each other. The tension grew between them, and the persistence and pout struck a nerve in Viktor. The mere idea of a high school party wasn’t scary per se, but it didn’t sound enjoyable in the slightest. Drunk teenagers, loud bass-heavy music and people who often gave him the side-eye judging him all night. It was a recipe for disaster for someone like him.

“Why do you even want me there?” Viktor leaned on his cane, brows furrowing together as he deflected, “Why have you spent all week trying to be my friend?”

“Woah, okay. Listen—” Jayce started, eyes widening as Viktor rambled at him, bringing up everything he was hoping to avoid.

Viktor cut him off. “Not once have you even asked about help studying chemistry. Even if you did, I know you don’t need help. Now you’re taking me to movies and asking me to parties?” Viktor shook his head, brows furrowed together, “It’s fucking weird.”

“Okay, yeah, I see why this seems weird,” Jayce admitted, chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously, “I know we’ve never talked before. It’s just, well, you’re not exactly easy to approach.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, “So it’s my fault you’ve ignored me for years?”

Jayce winced. “No, no. Not at all.” He urged, stepping closer, “You’re just intimidating to approach, alright? You’re crazy smart, and you’ve got this vibe where it feels like you can see through everyone’s bullshit, and I like that. I really like that. I mean, you are the only person I’ve interacted with who actually shut me down and told me to fuck off. You don’t give a shit about popularity, and I like that about you. I guess I thought maybe hanging out with you would be... better.”

Viktor felt his heart patter, his stomach swirling with butterflies. The skepticism he felt wasn’t as strong anymore as he stared up at Jayce, indulging in the charisma he oozed. “Better how?” He murmured.

Jayce exhaled, “Better than all that shallow crap I deal with every day. You’re not like anyone else I know, Viktor. That’s why I wanted to get to know you. No ulterior motives, I promise.”

Viktor’s lips thinned into a line, and his gaze still settled on Jayce as he forced himself to question further. “No ulterior motives,” he repeated. “You expect me to believe that?”

Jayce gave him a lopsided smile, “Yeah, because it’s the truth.” He shifted his weight between his feet, hands fidgeting in his jean pockets. “If it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just forget the party and watch the movie. I don’t care where we hang out. I just...” He hesitated, then chuckled softly, almost nervously. “I just think you’re kind of great, and I want to spend more time with you.”

Viktor didn’t say anything for a moment, his expression unreadable, but his mind was reeling after the confessions that were thrown at him. Jayce Talis liked him. Jayce Talis wanted to be his friend. If he was feeling faint earlier, now he really believed he might pass out.

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.” He eventually mumbled, able to hear the blood rushing through his ears as he focused on keeping calm after Jayce’s nervous revelation.

Jayce perked up, his grin wide with boyish charm. “So, is that a yes?”

Viktor sighed, shaking his head as he turned away and kept walking, his cheeks and ears hot to the touch, “It’s a ‘fine.’ Just know I’m not happy about it.”

“Okay,” Jayce smiled, falling into step beside him. “You’ll have a great time, trust me.”

As they got back into Jayce’s vehicle, Viktor’s stomach twisted into uneasy knots as they drove towards his neighbourhood across the city. The evening loomed overhead, and he was already dreading the prospect of the party.

Viktor gripped his cane, resting it between his legs. “Drop me off at Powder’s. You can pick me up from her place tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jayce nodded, oblivious to his nerves, “Does nine work?”

“Nine’s fine.”

Jayce hummed along to the music on the radio, tapping the steering wheel in time with the beat; Viktor’s gaze shifted to the blur of the city as they sped down the road. He wasn’t sure what worried him more—the party or the way Jayce’s relentless optimism made him believe his intentions were pure. He’d been through enough bullshit and torment in his life, and somehow, after all his distrust of others—he really believed him.

As they neared Powder’s house, Viktor couldn’t shake the feeling that the party was going to change everything.

#jayvik #jayvik fanfic #jayvik fic #viktor x jayce #jayce x viktor #jayce talis x viktor #jayce talis fic #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #jayce talis #jayce arcane #arcane viktor #arcane jayvik #arcane #wordsbyspatial #spatial fic: v's all that #accidentally posted it as chapter 3 at first oopsie

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immortalbumblebee · 3 days ago

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Under The Table

This idea was given to me by the always-lovely @conretewings! Check our their stuff, they're the one who inspired me to write Vander fics in the first place.

Not to mention the Lord of the Rings reference, lol.

Masterlist

The Last Drop was alive tonight, the usual haze of pipe smoke and lantern-light casting warm, flickering shadows on the weathered walls. The hum of chatter filled the room, punctuated by the clink of glasses and bursts of raucous laughter from the regulars huddled around mismatched tables. Vander stood behind the bar, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the shelves of well-worn bottles, pouring a round for a trio of dockhands boasting about their latest haul.

At your usual corner table, a small crowd had gathered, hanging on to your every word. You’d just finished recounting an exaggerated tale of a drinking escapade—one that ended with you walking out unscathed while your opponent was passed out cold. Your grin widened as the group erupted in cheers and skeptical jeers, challenging your story.

"Come now," you teased, leaning back in your chair and raising your drink. "You think I’m bluffing? I’ve got more tolerance than anyone in this place."

Vander’s deep laugh cut through the noise, drawing your attention. He set down an empty tankard with a thunk and crossed his arms, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Anyone, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a bold claim, love.”

The crowd stilled for a brief, charged moment, the weight of Vander’s challenge hanging in the air. Then, like a spark igniting dry kindling, the room erupted into a cacophony of excited whispers and scattered cheers. Vander was rarely one to involve himself in the bar’s games—his presence was usually that of a steady hand and a watchful eye—but when he did, it was something that drew everyone’s attention.

You leaned casually against the bar, your arm resting on the worn surface, a sly smile playing at your lips. Tilting your jaw up just enough to meet his steady gaze, you let your eyes linger on him a beat longer than necessary. The faint flicker of amusement in his expression told you he noticed.

“Careful, Vander,” you teased, your voice light but laced with challenge. “I’d hate to see the great protector of the Lanes lose face in his own bar.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd, some already placing bets, others simply eager to watch the spectacle unfold. Vander stepped closer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the bar as he leaned in, his smirk widening.

“Lose face?” he rumbled, his voice warm and steady, though there was a glint of playful defiance in his eyes. “You talk a big game for someone who might not make it past the third round.”

The crowd roared their approval, and you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his boldness. You straightened, stepping away from the bar with an exaggerated flourish and a grin that you hoped looked more confident than it felt.

“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” you said, your voice carrying above the noise as the crowd surged to clear a table for the contest.

Maybe, you thought, as excitement buzzed in your veins, this was more than just a game. If you played your cards right, tonight might turn into something far more interesting.

The crowd erupted into cheers and hollers as an impromptu table was cleared, tankards rapidly filled, and bets thrown down with reckless enthusiasm. You couldn’t help but laugh, the buzz of excitement in the room infectiously lifting your spirits. It wasn’t just the thrill of the contest, though; it was the way Vander’s full attention was on you, his warm, steady gaze locking onto yours.

Your not-so-hidden crush on the burly bartender had been the worst-kept secret in the Lanes for ages, but having him focus on you like this—like you were the only person in the room—was enough to send butterflies swarming in your chest. And to think, you hadn’t even touched a drop of alcohol yet.

Vander stepped out from behind the bar, the crowd parting instinctively to let him through. He moved with an easy confidence, rolling his sleeves further up his forearms as he approached the table. With a nod to Benzo, who grinned like a cat about to watch a mouse get caught, he motioned for two fresh tankards to be filled.

“Don’t tell me you’re already getting cold feet,” he teased, settling into the seat across from you with a smirk that sent a thrill straight to your core.

You scoffed, playing it cool as you slid into your chair. “Not a chance,” you replied, though your heart was pounding loud enough that you were sure he could hear it.

The rounds started, each tankard emptied in a clatter of glass and thunderous cheers. You held your own at first, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your chest and easing your nerves. But as the drinks stacked up, the edges of the room began to blur ever so slightly.

By the time the final tankard hit the table with a decisive thud, your vision was swimming just enough to make you blink hard, willing the room to steady itself. You were fine, you reassured yourself, though the growing smirk on Vander’s face said he might not agree.

“Still standing?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows, his voice low and teasing. His gaze swept over you, equal parts playful and impressed.

You straightened in your chair, forcing a grin even as the butterflies in your stomach threatened to rebel. “Barely breaking a sweat,” you shot back, though your slightly unsteady hand betrayed you as you reached for the table to steady yourself.

Vander chuckled, the rich sound filling the space between you. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

It was about seven more beers in when the world began to tilt, just slightly, and everything became inexplicably funnier. You found yourself giggling uncontrollably at nothing in particular, your cheeks warm from both the drinks and the absurdity of the situation. Long ago, the crowd had begun to disperse, with only a few curious (and admittedly concerned) looky-loos poking their head over to you ever once in a while. Across the table, Vander glanced down at his hands, a faint look of concentration creasing his brow as he flexed his fingers in slow, clumsy motions.

You tried not to stare, but the way the low lantern-light caught the lines of his face, the way his lips curved into a subtle smile—it was impossible not to. Damn him for looking so good, even with a faint flush creeping up his neck from the alcohol.

“I think,” he rumbled, his voice warm and gravelly in a way that made your chest flutter, “I’m starting to feel it.” He flexed his fingers clumsily, the movement oddly mesmerizing. “There’s a... slight tingling.”

You blinked, your gaze tearing away from the way his hands moved to his face, where he was watching you with a glint of amusement. Your mouth moved before your brain caught up.

“Big, strong Vander,” you slurred with mock solemnity, lifting a shaky finger to point at him, “brought down by a few pints. I always knew you were human!”

The laugh that rumbled out of him made your stomach flip, and for a moment, you forgot to be embarrassed by your boldness.

“Is that so?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as he gave you that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “You seem pretty human yourself, love. The hiccups kind of give it away.”

You hiccupped immediately, as if on cue, and the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck. “That’s—hic—just strategy,” you said, waving a hand as though brushing off his words. “Keeps you off guard.”

Vander chuckled again, the sound low and rich, and it sent a shiver down your spine despite the warmth flooding your body. He leaned back once more, tilting his tankard to his lips and draining the rest of his beer effortlessly, the muscles in his throat shifting in a way you had no business noticing but absolutely did.

“Impressive strategy,” he drawled, setting the tankard down with a solid thunk. “Let me know how it works out when you’re trying not to fall over.”

You narrowed your eyes, your lips twitching into a grin despite yourself. “I’m not the one looking like they forgot how fingers work,” you countered, pointing at his hands with a dramatic flourish. Your words floundered slightly as your eyes became trapped on the digits in question, “nice hands…”

His laughter was louder this time, full and unrestrained, and it sent another wave of warmth crashing through you. He was utterly magnetic like this, his usual calm composure softened by the drinks and the laughter you had somehow managed to coax out of him.

“You like my hands, do you?” Vander hummed, his voice dropping a note lower as he leaned slightly closer to you. His elbows rested on the table, the light from the lantern above casting shadows that made his smirk all the more dangerous.

Your brain short-circuited. You blinked hard at him, utterly incapable of forming a coherent thought as your mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Umm,” you finally managed, the sound weak and embarrassingly stupid.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening at your obvious fluster. His fingers drummed idly against the table, drawing your reluctant gaze to them before your eyes darted back to his face. “What’s the matter, love?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing. “I thought you had plenty to say a moment ago.”

The heat in your cheeks surged, your thoughts spiraling as you tried desperately to pull yourself together. “I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t say I liked your hands!” you blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Didn’t you?” Vander leaned back, his broad shoulders settling comfortably as if he had all the time in the world to tease you. “Could’ve sworn I caught you staring. Not that I blame you,” he added with a low chuckle, his voice rich enough to make your stomach flip. “These hands can do a lot more than pour drinks, you know.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your face go molten. The implications of his words hit you like a freight train, your mind running wild with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be entertaining right now.

“I—I wasn’t staring,” you stammered, though the way your voice cracked on the words probably didn’t make you very convincing.

His smirk deepened, his gaze unwavering and entirely too knowing. “No? Then what’s got you so flustered?”

You sputtered, unable to come up with a retort as the crowd around you roared with laughter and excitement, still caught up in the drinking contest. Meanwhile, Vander’s eyes stayed locked on yours, a flicker of something unspoken lingering between you—a challenge, a tease, or maybe, just maybe, something more.

#arcane #vander arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #vander x reader #arcane fanfic #vander x oc #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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woozinhos · 3 days ago

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Hello !! How are you doing? Can I ask you how Jun dominates me PLEASE I THINK A LOT ABOUT HIM

I’m okay thanks anon slipped on some ice today so not the best my fic writing is cheering me up!

Suck me

Jun has always had a certain presence that you can't help but be drawn to. He's confident, assertive, and exudes an air of authority that leaves you feeling both intimidated and excited. One day, as you're sitting on the couch, lost in thought, Jun walks in and immediately pins you down, straddling your waist and holding your wrists above your head.

"You look like you're thinking too much," he says, his voice low and husky.

You gasp as Jun pins you down, your heart racing in your chest. You've always been attracted to his dominance, and having him so close, so in control, is sending a thrill through your body.

"Jun..." you murmur, trying to squirm out from under him.

He just smirks down at you, his grip on your wrists tightening. "You're not going anywhere," he says. "Not until I'm done with you."

You stop struggling, a mixture of excitement and anticipation coursing through your veins. Jun's eyes darken as he looks down at you, his gaze filled with desire.

"Good girl," he says, his voice rough with lust. "You're going to do exactly what I say, aren't you?"

You nod, unable to form words under his intense gaze. Jun's smirk widens as he sees your submission.

"That's right," he says, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "You're mine to use however I want."

He releases your wrists and moves his hands down your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He starts to undress you slowly, his eyes roaming over your body as more skin is revealed.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing over your curves. "And all mine."

Once you're fully undressed, Jun takes a step back to admire the view. His eyes rake over your body hungrily, taking in every inch of your skin.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice firm.

You quickly get down on your knees in front of him, your heart racing with anticipation. Jun looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"That's a good girl," he says, running his fingers through your hair. "You know exactly how to please me, don't you?"

You nod, your eyes fixed on his face. He looks so powerful standing over you, and you feel a shiver of submission run through your body.

"Use your mouth," he says, his hand tightening in your hair. "I want to see how well you can please me with that pretty little mouth of yours."

You lean forward, your hands on his thighs as you start to mouth at his bulge through his pants. You can feel him growing harder under your touch, and it only serves to fuel your own desire.

Jun groans, his fingers tangling in your hair as he looks down at you. "That's it," he says, his voice rough. "Just like that."

You continue to mouth at him, your tongue tracing over the outline of his cock through his pants. He's fully hard now, straining against the fabric, and you can feel his hips starting to twitch with impatience.

"Stop teasing," he growls, tugging on your hair. "I want your mouth on me now."

You look up at him through your lashes, a coy smile on your lips. "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice innocent.

Jun's eyes darken with lust, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not going to ask again," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Take me out and suck me."

You quickly unbutton his pants and pull them down, his cock springing free. He's already hard and leaking precum, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his fingers still tangled in your hair. "Now get to work."

You take his cock in your hand, stroking him a few times before taking him into your mouth. You start slow, swirling your tongue around the tip and tasting his precum.

Jun groans above you, his grip on your hair tightening as he watches you. "Fuck," he breathes, his hips bucking slightly. "That feels so good."

You take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue working along the underside of his shaft as you start to bob your head up and down. He's thick and heavy on your tongue, and you can feel your own arousal building with each passing moment.

"That's it," he says, his voice ragged. "Take me deeper. I know you can."

You try to take him deeper, your jaw aching slightly as you try to accommodate his size. You look up at him, your eyes watering as you struggle to take him all the way down.

"You're doing so well," he praises, his hips starting to move in time with your movements. "You're taking me so deep, baby."

You keep going, your tongue working over his length as you try to please him. He's moaning above you, his breath coming in short gasps as he gets closer to the edge.

"I'm going to come," he warns, his grip on your hair almost painful now. "Swallow it all, baby."

You nod as best you can with his cock in your mouth, determined to do as he says. You can feel him tensing up, his body going taut as he nears his climax. With a deep groan, he spills himself into your mouth, his hot cum flooding your throat. You swallow it down, milking him for every drop until he's spent. He slumps back against the wall, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. "Fuck," he breathes, looking down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and desire.

"You're amazing," he says, pulling you up onto his lap. "I could get used to this."

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen #svt smut #jun svt #svt jun #wen junhui smut #jun seventeen #jun smut #wen junhui #svt reactions #svt scenarios

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chloe-skywalker · 3 days ago

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Early Shower Gift - Klaus / Kai

Klaus x Fem!Reader (romantic)

Kai x Reader (friends)

Warnings: TVD

Word count: 1,200

Summary: Being friends with Kai and him giving you and Klaus a magical pregnancy.

Authors Note: Hope doesn’t exist. Or Freya just time line for Freya.

Masterlist

TVD Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Where are you two going?” Rebekah asked, noticing Klaus and Y/n ready to leave the compound.

“To visit her siphoner friend.” Klaus tells his sister their plans. Klaus wasn’t necessarily thrilled to go visiting the siphoner but Y/n had said Kai wanted to see both of them.

Klaus also didn’t want Y/n out and about much. She’s a vampire but she’s been sick throwing up the last couple weeks. It’s put all the Mikaelsons on edge, they all love Klaus’ wife the two had been married forever. Y/n is their family through and through. So her being sick when it shouldn’t be possible, it worried them.

“Why?” Elijah asked not trusting Malachai Parker. Not one Mikaelson did. But Y/n had met him before he was locked away and befriended him. When Kai got out he seeked her out and their friendship reconnected.

“He said he wanted to talk to the both of us.” Y/n shrugged. Kai wouldn’t even give her a hint and that was hard for him.

“Are you feeling well enough to go?” Rebekah was worried for y/n. She was the sister she always wanted.

“I’ll be fine. Knowing Kai it won’t take long.” Y/n nodded smiling at the female Mikaelson. Y/n appreciated all their concern but she trusted Kai and Klaus would be with her.

“I’m still trying to find out why you're feeling sick.” Kol tell’s her. Kol had gotten out every grimoire he had collected over his lifetime and was trying to find anything on why Y/n was seemingly sick. Y/n’s family to them, they all loved her and she loves them. Kol was worried about her. Elijah was the only one keeping a leveled compost, but he to felt nervous for his sister in-law.

“Thanks Kol.” Y/n smiles gratefully at him.

“Let’s go love.” Klaus wrapped his arm around her waist guiding her to leave. The sooner they left the sooner Klaus could get her back to the compound and keep her safe.

^ ^ ^

“Kai?” Y/n called out not seeing her friend as they entered the abandoned house Kai had given her the address to.

“You guys made it.” Kai greeted them excitedly as he walked into what used to be a living room.

“We did.” Y/n hugged him as he came over very excited to see the couple. “What’s up? You’re giddy.” Y/n noted as they pulled apart, and her ever protective hybrid pulled her closer to him.

“Have you been throwing up lately? Achey? Tired?” Kai asked her, smiling, looking her up and down.

“Why do you ask?” Klaus questioned defensively. How could he know how she’s been feeling?

Y/n rested her hand on Klaus’ chest to calm him before turning her attention back to Kai. “Yes. Do you know why?”

Kai nodded with a huge grin on his face. Which sent Klaus closer to the edge.

“Wanna share?” Klaus narrowed his eyes, preparing himself to kill the siphoner.

“What are those the symptoms of?” Kai smiled, rocking on his feet back and forth.

“A lot of things.” Y/n answers not wanting to get her hopes up for the impossible that did run through her mind.

Kai smirks. “Something a hybrid, especially an original can’t get.”

Y/n looks at him confused. “Pregnancy. But that's impossible Kai.”

“We’re over a thousand years out its not possible.” Klaus shook his head and Y/n was turned with the Mikaelson siblings. She herself is an original, there’s no possible way for her to get pregnant and why now? They’ve had a lot of sex over the centuries.

“You're welcome.” Kai smiled excitedly, raising his arms. Confirming that he had indeed given them the impossible.

“Kai, I don't know what to say.” Y/n was overwhelmed with shock and happiness and close to tears. She never thought she’d have kids after what Ester and Mikael did to all of them.

“I see the way you look at children. I’ve heard you express if you could you would. I found a way to give you that, and for it to be 100% both of you.” Kai explained to the couple. If he was gonna do a nice thing it’d be for the woman who stuck up for him and would defend him.

“Thank you.” Y/n hugged him as tight as she could without hurting him.

“Thanks mate.” Klaus thanked the siphoner as well. Klaus was shocked, astonished, and happily surprised he’d do that for them. Maybe his opinion of Malachia would have to change. After doing this for them, if Y/n wanted him to be an uncle to their kid, Kai deserved it in Klaus’ mind. The kid wouldn’t be possible without him.

“No problem. Think of it as an early baby shower gift.” Kai shrugged, smiling as big as his face would allow.

“Well there wouldn’t be a baby without you. Thank you Kai. Really.” Y/n laughed over joyed.

^ ^ ^

Once Y/n and Klaus left and went back to the Mikaelson compound, the two walked hand in hand with smiles on their faces. Which didn’t go unnoticed by the Mikaelson siblings.

“What’s your friend want?” Rebekah asked from the couch as she noticed the two enter before Elijah or Kol.

“He did something amazing for us.” Klaus was smiling a guinea smile as he answered his sister, all the while pulling Y/n closer to him. Y/n’s back was to his chest a smile on her face as well.

“Kol you can stop researching. We know why I’m sick now.” Y/n told the youngest Mikaelson brother.

“Why are you sick?” Elijah asked the million dollar question.

“What does my brother mean?” Rebekah questioned, still confused as to what Klaus’ words meant. Klaus seemed overly happy and normally that wasn’t because of anything good.

“Kai used magic and it’s the reason I’m sick.” Y/n told them.

Kol Stood up furiously. “I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t you dare.” Klaus narrowed his eyes pointing at Kol.

“Why not?” Kol looked at Klaus like he was crazy. Their family was harmed. Why would the siphoner still get to keep his life?

Y/n and Klaus exchanged look’s before Y/n turned back to their family. Klaus started rubbing over her stomach giving his siblings a teasing look while Y/n said. “I’m pregnant.”

“He used some spells and was able to create a magical miracle.” Klaus explained further, smiling widely at his siblings. Still reeling from the news.

“It’s 100% us. I don’t know how he did it. But he did.” Y/n tells them in their state of shock laughing at how things turned out so good.

Elijah, Rebekah, and Kol all got up worried for Y/n since this wasn’t something that's ever happened before. But they were also all excited to bring a little Mikaelson into the world, and they were happy for the couple. They all knew how much Y/n had wanted to have kids when they were human. Hell most of them did. But that choice was taken from all thanks to their parents. They would protect this child with their lives.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila

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widefuturesss · 19 hours ago

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I’m so heavily connected to the dream world, my mum keeps getting scared each time we dream the same dreams, but me and sis are used to it. We don’t even just dream the same dreams, we share dream space, one time I ate cake in a dream and felt sick and Malaika received a call in their dream talm bout your sister is sick, she ate cake!!! It was funny cause I was already awake and going about my day as Malaika had this follow up in the dream lol. Last night, we both dreamt bout being in the same place with the same people although we experienced different scenarios. At this point we check in on each other’s dreams to complete the pieces. I share dream space with my lover as well. And I’ve generally received so many gifts, insight and unravellings through my dreams. It’s powerful, thrilling and beautiful.

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kikyoupdates · 2 days ago

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Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

previous | story masterlist | next

When you arrived back at the manor, it was clear that you needed to get your shit in order.

The situation was crazy to begin with, but this newest revelation was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around. It was one thing to reincarnate into the past, or even in a separate world, given the very high likelihood of multiple galaxies existing. But this was just a game. It wasn’t real. So then, how was this possible?

Obviously, you didn’t have the answer to that question, and you weren’t even sure if you ever would find the answer. But that was really beside the point. It didn’t matter how you ended up here—what mattered was what in the hell you were going to do.

For the time being, you decided to lock yourself in your room and try to rack for your brain for just about everything you could remember. Thankfully, you’d just recently finished the game, so most of the details were still relatively fresh in your mind.

The most pressing issue was obviously that the game you found yourself in was by no means a happy one. It was marketed as a dark fantasy for a reason, because the love interests were dangerous and hardly good people. The yandere genre had become explosively popular over the course of the past decade. It was particularly enjoyable due to the strange thrill it provided people with, the mystery and suspense, but yanderes were far from desirable. The game had both a good and bad ending for each of the love interests, with all of the bad endings being remarkably messed up, and even the “good” endings were plenty concerning in their own right.

Which is why it was quite a bitter irony that the game was called Zodin’s Benevolence, given that there was nothing truly benevolent about the twisted challenges the protagonist was forced to undergo. She repeatedly found herself tangled up in all sorts of sinister plots after being adopted into a baron’s family and acquiring a noble status.

The good news was that you hadn’t been reincarnated as the protagonist, which meant that so long as you kept your distance from the main events of the storyline, there shouldn’t really be any reason for you to get dragged into that mess.

A grimace fell upon your lips. Thinking about it like that, it sounded a bit selfish to intentionally ignore a poor woman’s suffering, but you’d finally been given a chance at a proper life. The last thing you needed was to suffer a gruesome death at the hands of yanderes simply because you’d interfered with their twisted obsessions.

“I will do absolutely nothing,” you stated determinedly. “There’s no way my character even existed in the first place. When I woke up in this world, it sort of created a little slot for me to fit in. In other words, I’m a side character, and my actions should have no effect on the story so long as I don’t get involved.”

Yes, that was the plan. Do nothing. You could do that. You were very good at doing nothing.

The rules of this “game” you found yourself in—both literally and figuratively—were rather simple. Actually, there was only one rule at all, and that was to stay as far away from the protagonist and yanderes as possible. Which, given that you’d accidentally run into Cassius today, meant that you already weren’t off to a very good start. But a simple bump-in shouldn’t be reason enough for him to go after you with a vengeance. Apart from deliberating angering him, the only thing you could of think that would incur his wrath would be to prevent him from interacting with the game’s protagonist.

Speaking of... how far into the game am I at this point?

The game began with the protagonist being adopted by a kind baron after dutifully waiting on him during one of his trips to the countryside. She then proceeded to move into his estate, getting acquainted with her new life, and promptly beginning lessons at the renowned academy in Zodite’s capital city, as per her adoptive father’s wishes to grant her a formal education. This was the catalyst that set the plot in motion, because it was at the academy that the protagonist met the first yandere—none other than Cassius himself.

As far as you could recall, Zodin’s Benevolence began sometime early summer, because the baron encountered the protagonist while in the middle of a leisurely seasonal trip. Given how warm the weather currently was, summer was either peeking right around the corner, or already here. Which meant that there likely wasn’t much time left until the official plot was set in motion.

Although you had no concrete benchmark as to when it would officially begin, one thing was for sure. If you wanted to avoid an early death again, you would need to keep your eyes peeled for the protagonist’s appearance and keep her away from you by any means.

You frowned, nibbling on your bottom lip.

It’s okay. I can be selfish. No, I have to be selfish. It’s the only way.

Dying from illness was one thing, but the things those crazy bastards were capable of... you had a feeling that dying by their hands would be a million times more painful than anything you’d ever endured.

This new life had been placed right in the palms of your hands, and you’d be damned if you were going to let go of it.

“Mom, dad. Do you think it would be alright if I stopped going to the academy?”

After having discovered that you were in a yandere dating sim, that was the question you chose to ask your parents the very next morning.

Naturally, they were completely flabbergasted.

“Is this another one of your jokes? You wanted to go to school so badly up until now. Sorry, we’re just struggling to understand where all this is coming from.”

It had been your hope that in not attending the academy, you could prevent any run-ins with both the protagonist and the yanderes. But truthfully, you did want to go to school, because your sickness had prevented you from actually attending college back in your old world. It sounded like the version of you in this world was interested in pursuing an education as well, so perhaps it was for the best that you went. You couldn’t stand to see your parents’ disappointed expression once more, even in this reality.

From what you recalled seeing in the game, the campus was quite large, so if you were cautious, there was no reason for you to get wrapped up with the yanderes.

That being said...

You still didn’t want to be ill-prepared for what this world had to offer. There was only so much that had been outright stated in the game; you would have to find out the rest for yourself. One of the key points that you wanted to look into was the usage of magic. In this world, magic was mainly used through magical ores, which helped to supply certain buildings with things like electricity, heat, and even reinforcing walls with something akin to a barrier. Some people were blessed with magical abilities themselves, although it was exceedingly rare. The topic of mages had been briefly touched upon in the game, and it seemed as though with every passing generation, fewer and fewer people found themselves capable of such feats. Dwindling bloodlines, or something like that.

It did make you curious, though. Was it at all possible that you might be fortunate enough to be a mage yourself? If so, you could train your abilities to make sure that you would be able to protect yourself from harm in the event that something really did go wrong.

You didn’t really know how to use magic, though. After all, the game didn’t exactly expand on this detail very much.

So, you tried various methods to see if you could channel some hidden power. Reciting cringy incantations, straining your body so hard that it made you feel like you had to rush to the bathroom—you even drew a horribly misshapen pentagram on the floor of your bedroom, with leftover jam from your breakfast, and Lizbell nearly fainted when she saw the mess.

Needless to say, none of it worked, so you decided to just come out and ask.

“Can I use magic?”

For the second time that same morning, your parents gaped at you.

“My dear, what’s the matter?” your father chuckled. “You’ve been going full throttle since yesterday. Your mother and I can hardly keep up.”

“Does that mean I can’t use magic?”

“Of course not, good heavens. You know very well we don’t come from a family of mages.”

Despite their immediate dismissals, you knew that it was possible for people to potentially grow into their magical powers. Magical ability was traditionally passed down by blood, but it could just as easily manifest in an unsuspecting individual. Hopefully, that individual was you.

“I haven’t been able to use magic up until now, but something may have changed recently,” you persisted. “That’s what I meant. I’m wondering if my abilities have awakened by now.”

Fortunately, your parents had always been the patient sort, so they merely shrugged their shoulders. “If you're really still holding out hope for a thing, then you can always go and get tested at the Bureau of Magic.”

You decided to do just that. The Bureau of Magic’s central headquarters was a large, impressive building. You didn’t really know anything about this organization, but you were tickled pink by the thought of being magically gifted on top of having perfect health. You could already imagine it, shooting fireballs from your hands and creating geysers out of nothing.

You were going to be the best mage ever—

“Zero magical affinity,” the man testing you stated. “Although there are cases where people may develop magic over time, by looking at your mana reservoir, I can tell that there is absolutely no chance of you ever becoming a mage.”

Well, that was certainly a short-lived dream.

The man then frowned, peering closer into the strange device he was measuring your aptitude with. “Come to think of it though, this is really strange. Even average citizens have very trace amounts of mana in their system. Mana is present in all living things, whether or not they can actually manifest that mana and convert it into magical energy. I’ve never seen a case like yours before, not in all my years of working here. You’re an anomaly. Almost as if you aren’t meant to be a part of this world...”

Uh-oh. It sounded like he was starting to get suspicious, so you hurried to wave him off. “Your machine must be broken,” you dismissed flippantly. “Anyways, I’ve already lost interest in becoming a mage, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“What? Miss, if you could just—”

“Gotta go, bye!”

Since magic was clearly a no-go, you figured you should at least have another plan to fall back onto. You were weak and sickly back in your previous life, but you had a perfectly healthy body in this one. There was no reason you couldn’t pick up a weapon and learn how to protect yourself. For instance, sword-fighting!

“You want to do what?” your parents blanched. It was the third time today that they were confused beyond belief, though they looked particularly horrified in this instance.

“Sword-fighting,” you repeated calmly. “I just think it’d be neat.”

“Oh, [Name], but why that of all things? Those blades are seriously dangerous, you know. You could hurt yourself!”

“Well, not if I’m good at it.”

“Someone in your position will never have to worry about their safety,” they insisted. “We can hire more guards to keep watch outside the manor if it’ll help you feel better. Come on now, what use have you for a weapon like that?”

“It’s not that I’m worried about my safety.” That’s a lie. “I just want to challenge myself and see if I can do this. Plus, I think it’d be pretty amazing if I could pull something like this off. I’d be bragging about it constantly.” Okay, that part isn’t entirely a lie.

Their reluctance was plain as day, but as expected—they just couldn’t seem to say no to you.

“Very well,” your father sighed. “But we’ll at least be hiring an instructor to ensure that you have someone watching over you and making sure you’re safe while you train. Please allow us at least this much.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you beamed. “I’ll learn faster with a teacher, anyways.”

So far, things were looking good. You had your plan to stay out of everyone’s way and make sure you didn’t become a target, and in the event that it all failed, you would at least have some way of fighting for your life.

“Oh, and uh, the sooner the better,” you said. “I’d like to start learning as early as possible, since I’m just so excited! Okay? Okay!”

You proceeded to skip out the room before they could mutter a protest.

It was actually incredible how much your parents loved you. They were parents from a different reality, but your parents nonetheless. In spite of their visible concerns to allow you to wield a sword, they’d managed to secure you a personal instructor in less than twenty-four hours.

Currently, you were out in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting your guest. You were dressed in a loose tunic and comfortable pants that were perfecting for working up a sweat in. It was a shame you couldn’t wear clothes like these more often, though you had to admit that your collection of dresses was rather delightful.

It was hot out. Definitely summer, you were sure of it now. It was a good thing you were starting your sword-fighting lessons so early on. Even if you never ending up needing your soon-to-be lethal skills, you would definitely feel more at ease knowing that you had them.

Your personal instructor was apparently a knight, so you were already inclined to trust that he had hands-on experience. You wondered what he’d look like. Knights in fantasy settings like this one were always so damn attractive. Hopefully he wasn’t much older than you...

Ah, focus, goddammit! What does it matter what he looks like? The most important thing is staying alive.

You lightly slapped yourself upside the head. Right. No distractions. You were no longer the same weak person from your miserable previous life. You were a living miracle, and a future sword-wielding badass.

Hardly a minute later, your tortuous wait seemed to have come to an end, and you were able to get a good look at your new instructor.

Wait, is that...

“Good day, Lady [Name],” the knight greeted, bowing his head courteously. “My name is Sergei Garin, member of the Cavalry Brigade. I am humbled to be in your service.”

You couldn’t quite seem to hide the shock on your face. Sergei Garin. You knew this character. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of the yanderes—otherwise, you would’ve probably feigned a heart attack to get out of this situation. No, he was nothing but a supporting character, although a character that you admittedly had a soft spot for.

Why did you have a soft spot for him? Well...

Probably because he was fated to die.

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cherrysolo · 5 hours ago

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PLEASE I BEGGG DO THISSSSS

Luigi x fem!reader

Where lu is super sweet and they r each others firsts and they do it and lu just wants to make her feel good and he finishes first and is super embarrassed cus he doesnt know what to do and shes like talking him through eating her out after and its sososo hot and cute

PLEASEEE

thank u for ur request!!! this is my first time writing smut so bare with me <3 I typically write more fluff but I’m so happy to step out of my comfort zone (writing wise) for u guys! (also this request reminded me of that one p clip going around of that dude who looks like lu… anywho!)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (pls wrap before u tap)

“I want to please you” luigi looked up at you with his brown doe eyes, placing kisses across your chest, “is that okay?” breathing heavy, looking down at your best friend, you think back, how did you end up here? you and luigi had been best friends since high school, following each other to upenn. you both made a pact that if 6 months into college either you didn’t loose their virginity, you would loose it to each other.

one january evening you decide to show up to luigi’s dorm, already planning what you were going to say to him.

“hey y/n,” he shyly smiles as he opens the door.

you barge into his dorm shocking him a bit.

“lu, I think we need to get this over with tonight,” you say, but your eyes not meeting his.

“what do you mean? everything okay?” he asks, genuinely confused, searching your eyes to see what could be wrong.

“I know it hasn’t even been six months, but I’ve thought about this a lot. I want you, I trust you.” you say slightly louder than a whisper, feeling embarrassed. luigi nearly starts choking, his breath hitching from shock.

“oh. I wasn’t expecting that, are you sure?” he questions, grabbing your forearm for reassurance.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you finally making eye contact with him. both of your faces blushing red, you already feel the room getting hot. a mix of emotions fills your mind, you’ve always had a crush on luigi. you could never admit to those feelings because you didn’t think he’d ever feel the same, but he does. luigi’s mind is racing with thoughts. not even sure of what to expect, he thought this pact was a drunken joke to you, but both of you were as serious as ever. you both take a seat on his bed and sit side by side. an awkward yet thrilling tension filled the room, both of you have never felt this before. luigi moves closer and grabs your hand

“y/n, just so you know I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you. you look over at him, “I want this, I want you. all of you,” there’s a need in your voice that has never been there before, a mix of excitement and wanting.

luigi places a hand on your shoulder and asks “is this okay?” while slowly rubbing his hand down your arm. you nodded, unable to speak due to anticipation. his eyes looking directly in yours, searching your face for any regrets. he slowly moves his hand to your cheek and gently rubs his thumb back and forth. he sighs and leans in slowly, you press your lips to his. the kiss is more than peck, its soft and wondering. speeding up, the kisses become more passionate and rushed. he begins to move his hands up your neck and to your hair, tugging gently. you gasp in pleasure, luigi slyly smirks and returns to kissing you. he flips himself on top of you to gain control, pushing you down into the mattress. you have never been so close to one another, but now that you have started, you’re addicted. his hands begin wandering on your back and begins to lift up your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, as his eyes flicker across your chest covered in a lacy bralette. his hands begin exploring your body, caressing and gently kissing across your chest. he cups one of your breasts, gently massaging the flesh. “oh, lu,” you moan, not knowing to do with all the pleasure. you begin to slide your hands up to remove his shirt, “it’s not fair, let me see you,” you giggle against him. he shivers at the contact of your hands exploring his bare chest, groaning into another kiss. you moan into him and his hips move forward. you both groan in unison, feeling how hard he is. you flip yourself over so that you’re now straddling him, grinding down on his hard cock. “god, you don’t know how many nights I’ve dreamed of this,” he groans out. “don’t try and flatter me lu, we both know the deal,” you mutter. he grinds up into you, causing you to moan loudly. he begins to plant kisses down your neck leaving marks, he makes his way down to your breasts again to look up at you. “may i?” he raises his eyebrows at you, unclasping your bra. the cold air rushes to your hardening nipples, making you shiver. his thumbs toying with your breasts, trying his best to learn how to please you. he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. you moan, tangling your fingers in his curls. “god, luigi, are you sure you’re not a virgin?” you ask breathless. he chuckles, moving his hands down to squeeze your ass. he smiles gently at you, while his hands roam across your backside. he begins to tug at your pants, signalling he wants them off. you desperately move your hips so that you can get rid of another barrier, his gaze intensely on you.

“fuck, y/n, you’re perfect,” he murmurs looking at your bare skin on display only for him. “can I touch you?” he asks full of need and affection, you arch into him and his fingers dip into your underwear. “baby, you’re soaked,” he moans, as he begins gently rubbing across your clit. “luigi,” you moan, with your back arching with full pleasure. you could feel your wetness pooling through your underwear as he worked his fingers, sending waves of pleasure you had never felt before. you moan out, gripping his shoulders, until there’s a loss of contact. your eyes open and look at luigi, “why’d you stop?” you question. he toys at the waistband of your underwear, “I need to be inside you,” he begs. “I want you so bad, y/n,” he pleads. kissing you with intent and passion, he begins to remove your underwear. he takes off the remaining clothes, “are you sure about this, y/n?” he taps your hip, wanting reassurance. “I want you, luigi, so bad,” you moan and your hips instinctively buck up.

his hands sliding up your thighs to spread you open, you gasp at the sudden sensation. “you’re absolutely gorgeous, y/n” he looks down at you, all of you, just for him. he positions himself at your entrance, you moan softly, waiting in anticipation. he looks at you, you nod softly, telling him to begin. he enters you slowly, not wanting to hurt you in any way, trying to control his movements. you whined, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain, you’ve never felt anything like this before. you’re both so overcome with being wrapped around one another, no barriers between you two. the pain began to subside after a couple thrusts, and your wetness began to flutter around him.

“fuck, I need to slow down y/n,” he buries his face into your neck. his erratic thrusts are becoming too much and the sensations are taking over. “god, I’m so close, y/n,” he moans, “you feel so good,” he babbles. it’s all becoming too much, his cock hitting the right spots. he begins moving much faster and you can tell he’s almost finished. “let go, lu. I got you,” you moan out to him, letting him know it’s okay to finish. with a low moan, he finishes, collapsing on top of you.

“oh fuck, y/n. you’re perfect,” he says kissing up and down your torso. “did you finish?” he asks bashfully, realizing he didn’t get you there. “no, it’s okay though I still enjoyed it,” you rub your hand through his curls, still breathless. he looks up at you, “we can keep going, if you’d like,” you bite your lip, not sure if you could go for another round. “please?” he pleads with you. “I want to please you” luigi looked up at you with his brown doe eyes, placing kisses across your chest, “is that okay?” how could you say no to that? god it was the hottest thing he has ever said, you nodded desperately.

he kisses your body hungrily, peppering kisses until he reaches your heat. spreading open your legs once again. “you’re so beautiful, I can’t believe this is all mine,” he confesses. he toys with your clit, leaving you breathless. then he quickly dives in head first, licking a stripe right at your hole, and edging up to sucking on your clit. “oh fuck, luigi,” you moan loudly as he continues sucking and lapping your cunt. “where did you learn to do this,” you question breathlessly while tugging his hair. you can feel him smile against you, it was driving you crazy. your legs wrap around his head as he teases you to your edge, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, all for me,” he groans against you. the pressure is becoming all too much, you arch further into his mouth, nails digging into his hair. “I’m going to cum, lu,” then, the coil snaps in your belly, the feeling hits all too sudden and the orgasm violently rips through you. your cries, your moans, all release at once and you’re spent.

your bodies cling onto each other, you’re both sweaty, wet, and overstimulated. luigi rolls onto his side breathlessly looking into your eyes, “same time tomorrow?” he jokes. you roll your eyes, the feeling sinking in that you guys are more than just friends.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x yn #free luigi #the adjuster #ceo shooting #deny defend depose #fanfiction #luigi mangione smut

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speaknow-sw · 2 days ago

Text

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : pure fluff, alternative ending.

A/N : some people requested it so I typed this in like 20min just for you. Hope it’ll bring you more happiness💕💀. @rayaskoalaland , @anakinca Here’s for youuuuu.

꧁ Alternative Ending ꧂

The house stood on a quiet hill, surrounded by wildflowers swaying in the breeze. The sun bathed the valley in golden light, casting shadows of children playing outside. Laughter rang out—pure, unrestrained joy. The Skywalker home was filled with life, with love, and with the echoes of a family that had found peace.

Anakin Skywalker stood at the edge of the yard, his arms crossed over his chest, watching his children run about. His dark hair was flecked with silver now, but his eyes remained as sharp and warm as ever. He smiled softly as his daughters took turns chasing each other, wooden swords in hand.

"You're too slow, James !" the eldest, Eleanor, teased her younger brother. At ten years old, Eleanor was already a force to be reckoned with—fierce, bold, and with a mind as sharp as her father’s. Her wild curls bounced as she spun, holding her wooden sword with surprising grace.

James, just three, stomped his foot in frustration. "I’m not slow! I’m strong!" he declared, puffing out his chest in defiance.

Anakin chuckled, stepping forward to kneel before his son. "And you’ll be stronger still, my little warrior. But strength comes with patience. Watch your sisters, learn from them." He ruffled Alaric’s dark hair. "And then show them what you’ve got."

James grinned, brandishing his tiny sword with determination.

Nearby, you watched with a soft smile, a basket of freshly picked herbs on your hip. You had always known Anakin would be a wonderful father, but seeing him now—with your children surrounding him, his laughter mingling with theirs—it filled you with an indescribable warmth.

Anakin turned to you, his eyes softening. "Come join us, my rose," he said, holding out his hand.

You placed the basket down and walked toward him, letting him pull you into his arms. His embrace was still as comforting and strong as it had been all those years ago. "They’re growing up so fast," you murmured.

"They are," Anakin agreed. "But I’m not ready to let them go just yet."

"Then don’t," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Later that evening, the children gathered around the fire as Anakin carved a small wooden sword for James. Each child had their own custom sword or toy, all carved by their father’s hands.

"Tell us a story, Papa!" begged your second daughter, Roselyn, her green eyes wide with excitement.

Anakin smirked, setting down the carving. "What story would you like to hear?"

"The one about how you met Mama!"

The children gasped in delight as Anakin began to tell the tale—how he had fallen for the princess who painted in secret, how he had crossed borders and battled armies for her. He embellished parts, of course, to make it more thrilling for the little ones, but the heart of the story was true.

"And in the end," he finished, pulling you close, "I vowed to protect her with my life. And I have never broken that vow."

Your youngest daughter, Lyanna, climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Mama says you carved cribs for us when we were babies. Is that true?"

Anakin chuckled. "Of course. I carved a crib for each of you."

"And you sang to us?" asked your eldest, Eleanor.

Anakin nodded, his voice softening. "I sang to each of you, every night. And I’ll keep singing, for as long as you want to hear it."

One day, as you sat by the window, painting the wildflowers blooming outside, you heard the familiar sound of your children’s laughter. You looked out to see Anakin with all five of them, teaching Eleanor how to perfect her sword grip while Alaric clung to his leg, refusing to be left out.

"You’ll make a fine knight one day, James," Anakin told him. "But remember—strength is in the heart, not just the sword."

"And me?" Eleanor asked, grinning.

Anakin smiled proudly. "You’ll make a knight no king will dare cross. But more importantly, you’ll be kind. And that’s the strongest thing of all."

You stepped outside, watching as Anakin gathered all the children in his arms, spinning them around as they squealed with delight.

"Papa!" they cried. "Again!"

And Anakin laughed—a sound so full of life, it echoed through the hills, a melody of love, of peace, of everything he had fought so hard to protect.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the family sat together by the fire, wrapped in blankets, listening to Anakin’s stories once more. You rested your head on his shoulder, your heart full.

This was your legacy—a home filled with laughter, love, and life. Anakin’s vow had held true. He had never let anyone take you from him. And in the quiet moments, as your children drifted to sleep, he whispered promises of forever.

"I love you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"And I love you," you replied.

And in that moment, you both knew—there was no greater victory than that.

The court was bustling with activity. Nobles from across the land had gathered for the spring festival—a time of celebration and peace. Musicians played lively tunes, the scent of roses filled the great hall, and children ran freely through the corridors, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.

Anakin stood near the throne, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His gaze flickered from the crowd to his children, scattered across the room. His eldest daughters, Eleanor and Roselyn, were holding court with a group of noblewomen, their heads held high, their smiles radiant. Even at ten and nine years old, they commanded attention like queens.

"They grow more like you every day," you whispered, slipping your arm through his.

Anakin chuckled, shaking his head. "Gods help us all, then. They’ll take my rank before they’re twenty."

You laughed, squeezing his arm. "And you wouldn’t mind one bit."

His expression softened as he looked at you. "Not if it means they’re safe and happy."

Across the hall, your third daughter, Elara, was trying (and failing) to teach her five-year-old sister, Lyanna, how to curtsy. Lyanna, ever defiant, crossed her arms. "Papa never makes me curtsy!"

Anakin grinned. "She’s not wrong."

You shot him a playful glare. "You’re spoiling her."

"Of course I am," he said proudly. "It’s my duty."

The festival continued, and as dusk fell, the little family gathered in the gardens for a more intimate celebration. Eleanor, ever the responsible one, helped set up the table while Roselyn chased fireflies with Lyanna. Elara sat on the grass, weaving a crown of daisies for her little brother, Alaric, who giggled as he tried to sit still.

"Papa!" Lyanna called, running up to Anakin with a wildflower bouquet. "I picked these for you!"

Anakin knelt, accepting the flowers with a dramatic flourish. "For me? Why, I must be the luckiest man in the kingdom."

Lyanna beamed. "You are!"

He scooped her up, twirling her around as she squealed in delight. "And you, my little lioness, are the fiercest in the land."

Elara tugged on his sleeve. "Papa, can I ride with you tomorrow when you go to the village?"

Anakin knelt to her level. "You want to come with me?"

She nodded eagerly. "I want to see the world!"

Anakin smiled softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. "The world can be dangerous, my tiny rose."

"But you’ll protect me," she said confidently.

He sighed, kissing her forehead. "Always."

The next day, court was in session. Anakin sat at the head of the hall, his children by his side. Eleanor sat straight-backed beside him, her eyes sharp and observant. Roselyn twirled a strand of her hair, bored with the proceedings, while Elara whispered stories to Lyanna to keep her entertained. Alaric sat on Anakin’s lap, his small hands gripping his father’s sword hilt.

"Papa," James whispered, "why do we have to be here?"

"Because one day, you’ll need to know how to lead," Anakin said gently.

"But I don’t want to be a general," James pouted.

Anakin chuckled. "Good. That means you’ll be a wise one."

As the court proceedings droned on, Anakin’s focus remained on his family. When a nobleman dared to suggest that his daughters were unfit to learn the art of swordsmanship, Anakin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"My daughters will wield swords if they wish," Anakin said, his voice like steel. "They’ll wield power. They’ll be warriors. And they’ll have no need of any man to defend them."

Eleanor smirked. "I’ll be the best swordswoman in the land."

"And I’ll be better than you," Roselyn teased.

"You wish!" Eleanor shot back.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, pride swelling in his chest as he watched his daughters. They were his legacy—not titles or lands, but fierce, intelligent, unstoppable girls who would shape the future.

As night fell, Anakin made his rounds through the castle, tucking each of his children into bed. He knelt by Eleanor’s bedside, brushing her hair back.

"Papa," she murmured sleepily, "will you tell me a story?"

He smiled. "Of course. What would you like to hear?"

"Tell me about Mama."

Anakin’s heart softened. "Your mother is the bravest woman I’ve ever known. She saved me in every way a man can be saved."

Eleanor smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. "I want to be like her."

"You already are, my rose."

In the next room, Roselyn and Elara were already asleep, their arms tangled around each other. Anakin kissed each of their foreheads, murmuring words of love before moving on.

In Lyanna’s room, he found her sitting up, clutching a wooden sword.

"Papa, can you teach me a new move tomorrow?" she asked.

Anakin chuckled. "Of course. But only if you promise to sleep now."

"Promise," Lyanna whispered, settling back into bed.

Finally, he reached James’ room. The little boy was already half-asleep, clutching the wooden lion Anakin had sewn for him.

"Papa," James mumbled, "will you always be here?"

Anakin knelt beside him, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. "Always."

As he left the room, you joined him in the hallway. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"They’ll be great leaders one day," you whispered.

"They already are," Anakin said softly. "And I’ll make sure they always know how much they’re loved."

Later, as you both sat by the fire, Anakin pulled out one of the wooden cribs he had carved.

"Are you making another one?" you teased.

He laughed. "No. But I thought it might be nice to keep them. A reminder of when they were small."

You leaned against him, your hand resting over his. "They’ll always be our babies."

"And you’ll always be my rose," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And after all… we could make a sixth one." He grinned playfully.

The flames crackled, the warmth of the fire matching the warmth in your hearts. Outside, the stars shone brightly over the quiet castle—a symbol of the love, peace, and joy that now filled your lives.

The story of the poet and the rose had not ended in tragedy, but in love—eternal, unbreakable, and true.

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin x obi wan #evie writes

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