#i had down feathers on the side of my face

[sylviewrites]

Request For: Seilah | @seilahstar on X.

masterlist · like & reblog to support the writer!

Sylus × Reader. character dividers belong to @manikas-whims. Angst to Fluff, Angry Sylus.

Silence.

The clock ticked, echoing around the room like a ghost. The space felt too small yet too big at once, your hair standing up in goosebumps at the apprehensive sensation. You were too aware of the wind outside the windows, too aware of the time passing by, too aware of your heart beating loudly and harshly against your chest.

Silence.

You gulped as you stared down at the ground, your arms feeling like jelly, your body too light. You could not meet his gaze, fear overtaking you. You knew there are not excuses this time, you knew that attack from the wanderer might as well have been the cause of your demise.

Silence.

You expected witty remarks, maybe even reprimands of how stupid you were to place yourself in front of him as a sacrificial meat shield. However, everytime you thought you could express yourself, words left you like a running foaming river. You thought he would be upset.

But all you met with was, defeaning silence.

And that was way worse than any speech you could've ever been given.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

You received no answer, no acknowledgement.

Yet, Sylus kept taking care of you. He continued cleansing your gashes, fingers steady and precise in the way only experience could prove. His touch was as gentle as a feather, the sting of the needle piercing your skin back together barely registering in your spiralling mind.

"I don't want any of your shallow apologies," he clipped, eventually.

His voice was gruff, thick with emotion that he had attempted to hide. His crimson eyes were devoid of their usual gleam, almost dull as he watched the alarming amount of blood coating your [shade] skin.

"You were foolish," he hissed through his teeth. "You were bull-headed and irresponsible. Only a idiot would throw themselves into a battle with no plan."

His words stung right where it hurt, rubbing salt over the scratches. Tears gathered in your eyes and shame swamped your gut, you could no longer look at him and he refused to look at you.

The click of the medicine box echoed in the room, and there was nothing more that added to the quietude than Sylus's departure. He left the room without even looking back —

SLAM! he thudded the door shut.

The next days at Onychinus base were filled with tension. Everytime you crossed paths with Sylus, you turned around to hide, and he let you. He didn't seek you out to eat dinner together, he didn't try to call you over to watch a movie. Your comfortable, domestic routine was forgone as bitterness and heartbreak and betrayal creeped in, your safe sanctuary turning from a home to a hollow.

What do you do when someone doesn't want your apology?

What do you do when they don't want to hear out your side of your story?

"What was I supposed to do?!" you demanded, bewildered by his unreasonable behaviour. "Should I have let that shard hit you in that protofield? When I could have done something?"

"You are not indestructible," he pursed his lips, and it was so unlike his voice and tone that you wanted to claw his eye out and get your Sylus back.

"Neither are you!"

"I heal!" he snapped, standing up from the luxurious black chair behind his office desk. "I heal, my Evol has brought me back from worse injuries. I have taken your bullet to my heart," his hand darted forward before you could notice, wrapping around the collar of your shirt firmly without tugging.

"You don't heal," he snarled, reminding you the harsh cold truth with a frantic stare. "You don't heal and that terrifies me. Fuck you and your pride, I want you to live."

You panted as you looked up at him, his face so close to yours. You didn't miss was the desperate look on his eyes, gazing at you like you were a ghost, and you hated and hated until your heart broke at the realisation of what you were witnessing.

"You don't take your life seriously," your voice wavered, almost choking up your words. "You are not invincible either, Sylus," your hand reached out to him, tracing your fingers over the scratches on his face that hadn't healed.

You pressed a Band-Aid against his cheek, covering the scratch successfully. Your eyes softened, tracing the one big cut across his neck, your fingers gliding down gently as they followed the path red lines.

He took a shaky breath, as if your words had struck a cord within him. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead forward to touch yours, breathing in your scent.

Silence.

It was silent, but it was warm and fragile, like a weak hesitant embrace.

"I can't live without you," the confession was far too intimate coming from his lips. He hated the feeling of vulnerability in such circumstances. You two were made of banter and teasing, of tip-toeing around each other for the edge and the anticipation it brought until finally, one of you two breaks and becomes honest, the relief of the calm after a storm.

You smiled softly at him. "You have done it before."

He chuckled, no mirth behind his laughter. "Precisely," he whispered, thinking of something secret.

"I can't live without you," you murmured. his words were thrown back at him, but your voice was gentler, full with affection instead of shuttered desperation. you gazed at him lovingly, rubbing his cheek with reverence.

He leaned to your touch and he never wanted to let go.

"My Sylus is very special, one of a kind deal," you kissed his nose. "He is big and strong-"

He chortled, turning his head to your palm so he can kiss your skin.

"-but he's just my Sylus under my fingertips," you held back a grin, gazing into his eyes with devotion that was reflected right back at you.

"And he always protects me," a kiss on the edge of his lips. "He always makes sure I have no trouble coming here. He makes sure I am always wanted, and spoiled," a kiss on his cheek.

Sylus's eyebrows were furrowed over, his tense shoulders slowly losing their tension. He is sure you are trying to seduce him, always the mischievous sweetie you were, but your teary eyes tugged at his heartstrings.

He could never stay mad at you for long.

"He makes sure I am well-taken care of, even if he goes overboard most of the times. He respects my work and helps me grow as a hunter. He always supported me, even in my dumbest of times," you tapped his cheek. "A small part of me likes seeing the rubies he sends, because they remind me of him."

After so many days that felt likes years, you could manage the weight of his gaze.

It was blistering hot, never straying away from the sight of you as if he wanted to memorise all the tiny details, and in the long end, he relented first. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer in his embrace with a sigh of pure relief.

You snuggled against his chest, taking in his warmth. "I missed you."

"Are we being honest, now?"

You looked up at him, never parting from his embrace. "It was due time, don't you think?" you took a deep breath. "I hate it when you're mad at me."

"Ah..." he bite your cheek, causing you to squeal and flail in his arms. You scowled as you flicked his nose, your heart becoming lighter the more you admired his slowly growing smile.

"Sylus!"

"Be grateful it wasn't on your shoulder, sweetie. Otherwise, you would be bearing my mark by now," he had the audacity to look smug, even though his eyebrows furrowed, looking at you with a softness that was so familiar. You missed this, you missed him and his tall frame hovering over you, hugging you for being so precious to him.

You huffed, leaning up until your lips met with his jaw. "Hold me tighter," you demanded, and your wish shall always be granted.

He took you into his embrace. lifting you from the floor almost effortlessly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

You watched him leaning in and your heart skipped a beat, as a kiss was planted on your lips no long after. It was gentle and loving, soothing the ache inside you.

"I missed you too." he whispered across your chin, planting a kiss there. "I'm sorry for losing my composure... you did not deserve that."

You kissed his jaw, cheek rubbing against his. "Promise you won't yell at me again."

"Oh, sweetie," he sighed, voice pained as his arms tightened around you. "I promise, I will not only try, I will keep it forever with me."

You frowned, head tilting so your lips could brush against his. "Hey, none of that. Arguments are common within couples, I just- don't yell, okay?"

"Never," he vowed till his very end.

[pearlywritings]

Balalaika ifa 👉👈

That was so much fun to write! And I can't wait for my man to be playable (am I back into my simping era???)

Chill, dude

pairing: Ifa x reader

prompt: cuteness aggression

word count: 1.1+ words

~ The Music of the Night event ~

“Oh dear! Oh dear!”

“How can you be so adorable!?” You cry out, bouncing the small body of the peach-feathered Qucusaurus between your palms, rubbing your nose against his beak. It takes all of your will-power to be gentle, to the point you are vibrating, and buzzing, and an ugly squeal is stuck in the back of your throat. “You are the softest, you are the prettiest, you are the babiest, you are the cutest, I literally want to eat you!”

Cacucu chirps, happily bobbing to match your energetic tossing of his form within your hands’ grasp. The ball-shaped saurian flaps his wings, quite enjoying all the attention you are giving him at the moment - he loves it when you visit him and his human companion, and always basks in your peculiar kind of affection. It feels like attacking, and had it been anyone else, Cacucu would’ve already angrily pecked them whenever he could’ve reached. You, however, do all that squeezing, face-pressing into him, pretending to want to mouth at him and many more weirdly kind things with such care and a ton of compliments, that the saurian can’t help but preen.

“Wow, bro! You a real one, bro! I like you, bro!”

“Aaawwwwmhmheheenamwahmwahmwah!”

The sounds of smooching join the bird twittering, making the lounge room in the veterinarian’s house even more vibrant than before. The Qucusaurus just accepts his fate to be smothered, even if not really kissed, falling backwards against your palms and tucking his legs close to his body. 

“I could honestly eat you! Why snack-shaped if not edible?? Oh! Oh! Or I could put you in my pocket and bring you everywhere with m-”

“Chill, dude.”

You abruptly shut up, staring down at the quite content feathered baby in your hands. The saurian only blinks up at you and then turns his head towards the room’s entrance. You follow his example.

There, leaning on the doorframe, with arms crossed and the signature hat pushed off to rest on his back, stands Ifa. A knowing smile appears on his chapped lips, when he takes in the scene before him, looking from you to Cacucu and back.

Meanwhile you are staring at him incredulously, eyes slightly widened and mouth ajar. What did he just say?

“...did you just call me dude?”

“No way, bro!” The saurian seems to be on your side, jumping up on his feet and taking off in the air above your palms. This little show of support makes you feel justified, and now you are crossing your own arms, huffing in displeasure.

“Ifa, really? Me? Your partner? The love of your life?”

The white-haired male raises his brow, the corner of his mouth lifts too. His laid-off attitude is accentuated even more with the way he tilts his head and crosses one leg, still supporting the wall with his shoulder. Moreso there is a challenging look now in his eyes, boring into you with charming curiosity. Damn your lover for looking so effortlessly sexy!

But wait. You can totally make it his problem and also get your revenge.

Sure, pouring all your hardly-concealed love and adoration on Cacucu was nice and all, but there are still limits set by his small and fragile body. With a tall, toned man, however, you can stop holding back and even tackle him to the ground if you wanted to!

Oh-ho-ho, now you have a real case of cuteness aggression.

You quickly exchange looks with your soon-to-become partner-in-crime and need but a second to see that he is in complete agreement with you.

“Cacucu, get him.”

“Woah, woah, wait-”

Ifa bolts into the room obliquely when you jump towards him with the Qucusaurus swooping down from air. Grabbing the doorframe, you turn sharply, quickly locating your boyfriend, who’s just hopped over the backrest of the sofa and is now staring at you from behind the impromptu barricade.

“When I catch you, Ifa,” you threaten him, and your fingers twitch. You must squeeze this man.

“Okay, alright, babe, I was wrong,” the man puts one hand in front of him in a conciliatory gesture and uses the other to put the hat back on his head, simultaneously dodging his saurian companion’s aerial attacks.

“Too late, bro,” you grin rapaciously, slowly inching towards the two, and, once the vet is distracted, throw yourself at him full force, making you both fall onto the sofa, with him underneath you.

“Too late, bro, too late, bro!” Cacucu cheerfully repeats, flapping his wings above you.

The man squeezes his eyes shut from the impact his back makes with the cushions, and his arm instinctively flies to wrap around your waist. That’s his first mistake, because his embrace provokes the surge of affection on your part, and you wiggle your arms under his back. The air is knocked out of the man, when your hold tightens.

His second mistake is being hot once disheveled, with the hat falling over his forehead and the shirt opening wider due to two buttons undone, and you don’t deny yourself desire to latch onto his skin.

Ifa groans when he feels your teeth ghosting over his collarbones, lifting his free hand to adjust his hat and finally popping one eye open. His cheeks puff with air from held back laughter, when he sees how you rub your nose between his pecs with funny noises, mumbling something about wanting to bite him. He gasps when you indeed lightly bite him.

“Babe, chill, it’s still early in the afternoon.”

“It’s never too early to bother your boyfriend,” you snicker into his chest, scratching the small of his back with your nails, close to the sides. The man jolts and throws his head back with a sharp intake of breath.

“Archons, you are a menace.”

You hum happily and decide to have mercy, wiggling both arms from under his body. In a few seconds you are already straddling his thighs, reaching for his hat and taking it off. Cacucu, about whom you almost forgot, swoops down, latching his claws onto the brim, and zooms out of the room.

“Welp, good luck to me getting it back, I guess,” Ifa laughs, settling his palms on your hips, drawing circles with his thumbs. His gaze is warm when he looks up at you, and an eye-crinkling smile graces his handsome features.

“You’ll manage,” rolling your eyes, you cup his cheeks and bring your face closer, bumping your nose against his. “Besides… I like it when you are hatless. It means I can do… this!”

Somehow your fingers are in his hair already and you start messing with light mint locks, peppering his face with kisses.

And Ifa?

Ifa turns into a puddle underneath you.

[loveanddeephistory]

Trowels and Feathers: Sylus x Archaeologist! Reader

On Ao3

About: A heist at your latest excavation has you taking matters into your own hands. You're no Indiana Jones, you can't go in guns blazing. But a little birdy told you that the most notable artifact from the site might end up being auctioned off at The Nest. So you pull some strings, show up, and land yourself in a web much larger you had ever anticipated. Lucky you, a little birdy was watching your back.

Spoilers for: Sylus's anecdote

Content warnings/heads up: Reader is implied to be female or feminine due references to misogyny within the field of archaeology that the reader has faced, Sylus is a bit intimidating at first (as per usual), mentions of being drugged (not by Sylus), swearing

Word Count: 12k

A/N: Happy birthday to our favorite repatriating space pirate! I told my younger sibling about Sylus's anecdote and they just asked me "what the fuck kind of otome is this". We love him, though <3. I'll be updating Trowels and Scales with the tag "Trowels Series" since all the guys will have at the very least a one shot!

Divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

Never waste a Friday night on a first date. Never waste a night off on a place you don't want to be in. Don't do anything stupid. And if you do have to do something stupid, don't get caught. And if you do get caught, aim for the groin.

All sound advice your many mentors had given you. Through undergrad, grad school, field experiences, and even as a seasoned professional. From dating advice, to life advice, to street smarts. These people had taught you everything. And yet here you are, throwing all of their words out the damn window. Here you are, dolled up in clothes you'd never wear, shoes you'd never wear, in a place you shouldn't be in, glistening with sweat as low music bumps through the club. The main event would begin soon. You lean your back against the bar, eyes trained on the room before you. You had already been approached for protocore sales. For smuggling, for illegal weapons. You turn them all down with an impassive, slow once over and a slow eyebrow raise.

You were lucky. Most public information about you featured a picture of you all gunked up, covered in dirt, sweat, and bug bites. Your professional photos reserved for resumes and CVs that would never come across the desk of any of these kinds of people. You were unrecognizable. What a blessing to be in disguise.

You slowly drink on your mocktail, eyes scanning the room once again as the music slowly came to an end. Being inebriated would not be in your best interests, you figured you'd be safer with something that looked like alcohol but wasn't. You spotted an odd man with purple hair side eyeing you before silently slipping out a side door. A blond man was hunched over a table in the corner, speaking in hushed tones with someone else. Until finally, finally, the real show began.

A large man came to the stage. Six foot something or other, heavy set, with a wide grin missing a few teeth. The lights brightened on the stage so everyone around could see him. He was handed a microphone, and two armored guards came to the stage with a box. 

"Ladies and gentleman, so wonderful to see you all at The Nest once again. I hope everyone had a good hunt last time." He chuckled, raising a glass to the patrons in the room. You silently raise yours in turn along with those present. "Tonight we have the fortune of hosting an auction. I and some other generous benefactors found this pretty little trinket off in the jungle somewhere." The box was opened. An ancient, beautiful necklace was revealed. Glittering with gemstones ten times the age of everyone in this room combines. You run your tongue over your teeth, desperately suppressing a scowl.

Thieves. Disgusting thieves.

Others in the room chuckled at the unspoken joke in the man's words. Found. Hardly. You found it. You were the one excavating the ancient trash site. What was thought to be a place where broken things would come to rest. But hidden, squirreled away, was a cache of the most beautiful local work you had ever seen. You remember it like it was yesterday.

You gently scrape with the edge of your trowel over a layer of mud after the most recent rain. While you had secured the site as best you could the downpour was stronger than anticipated. The locals warned you, all of you. But your higher ups insisted that the normal way to cover the site would be just fine. Of course, he was wrong. Like he usually was. You roll your eyes to yourself, working quietly with your partner on this unit of the trench while others worked on other one by one meter units to your right and left. 

Usually, you all would be chattering away. Taking notes, discussing soil, or sharing personal stories of friends, family, and other excavations. But this dig was different. You couldn't remember the last time you worked for someone so chauvinistic. The entire team was quiet. Too quiet. The women on the team would speak up for themselves and each other, but were too often silenced. The men on the team would step in and speak up, only to be threatened anyway. No one was safe with this guy. So you made a silent vow with the whole crew. As soon as you were all safely away from him, every single one of you would report him to his superiors. And if that didn't work, taking things public would be necessary.

You dump a trowel full of mud into your bucket, sighing. "My turn to screen." But before you could get up your partner does, flashing you a smile.

"You pitched in with clean up after dinner last night, I think I can spare the time to screen for you." She stands up, grabbing both your bucket and her own. You watch as she carries them to the three metal poles holding up a mesh screen situated in a square wooden frame. The wires inside of the wooden frame created a fine mesh grid. She pours the sediment on top and grabs the handles, beginning to vigorously shake the sediment through while any notable artifacts remained on top. You flash her an appreciative but weary smile, bending back down. You continue to gently scrape along with your trowel. Until something shiny catches your eye. 

A few specks of metal dated to be a few centuries old had been found here. That was why this excavation was opened. Shattered pottery, household goods, and animals bones indicated this was a trash site for the local village n some centuries ago. You and a few colleagues immediately reached out. Luckily, quite a few of them had some information from elders dating centuries back. It wasn't much, but it did give you some context to the area. You squint, focusing on the shiny thing you found, switching to a brush as you gently swiped away mud and debris. But in the back of your mind, an older woman's words rang in your mind.

An old legend, passed down by elders for years. A young woman from a noble family had been married in this town. But robbers came in the night, and tried to take her wedding jewels. She managed to escape, and buried her wedding jewelry in a trash heap. She settled in the village with her husband and forgot the jewels, her husband and growing family more important. The old woman asked you to find the wedding jewels, that they would be inscribed with the family name. The woman had pleaded, clinging to your sleeve.

You had been taught to be wary of stories. But oral traditions had its place. You didn't want to make assumptions. But you gently wiped away millimeter after millimeter. Keeping the unit level. Clipping roots, shooing away bugs. And slowly, that tiny glimmer got bigger. And bigger. And bigger. You sat in slack jawed shock. Silent. With steady but weary hands, you gently lifted the artifact from the ground. You pull out a handkerchief and gingerly wipe away the packed on mud. There, clear as day, was the family name of the elderly woman. You feel the gaze of your fellow archaeologists, to your left and right. There were no gasps. No fanfare. But the excitement was tangible. You gently tilt the necklace, and it caught in the light in the most hypnotizing way. 

You don't say a word. No one else does. No one needs to. A young man to your right stands up, fetching an artifact bag. He labels it with your unit and the date, and what level the necklace was in. He opens it and you gingerly slide it in. Even covered in mud and muck, you all knew it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. An ancient necklace buried deep in the ground, revealed due to the multiple monsoons of the past few years.

You take the moment to smile wearily. You wipe your forehead with the clean(ish) side of your handkerchief, the low glow of pride washing over you once more. It had been dampened by your horrific supervisor, but he could never take the joy of a discovery away from you. Especially one tied to local lore. You could only imagine the glee that woman and her family will feel. The village, with all of its history, had a local museum. This piece would be perfect there, right where it belongs. Away from the robbers of old, it was finally safe to be seen by the world once more.

The following night proved you horrifically wrong.

There had been a safe location allocated by the company that had been contracted for this excavation. Somewhere to store equipment and any notable finds. But you woke up the following morning to a horrifying scene. Equipment broken. Some missing. The safe housing the more significant finds, like the necklace, with a hole in it and all of the contents gone. Soil samples? Thrown on the ground and mixed together. Documentation? Ripped to shreds. This wasn't meant to be some high profile theft.

This was an outright massacre.

You and your team called an emergency meeting with the officials and elders of the village. The chaos that ensued broke your heart. The very elderly woman who had held your sleeve, begging you to believe her, was openly weeping when told the necklace had been stolen. The village was traditional- the only place with cameras was the museum itself, and even they were long overdue for upgraded equipment. No one was awake. No one saw or heard anything.

The artifacts were gone. Just... gone. 

The excavation ended the very next day. The site had been too far compromised. The excavation site itself had not been discovered by the thieves, yet, so local law enforcement set up a watch. You and the others immediately replaced the sediment, and come next rainfall all evidence of your presence will be erased from this place.

It gnawed at you. The image of the village elders weeping, or yelling. Begging, asking who did this, who could have done this. And none of you knew.

You returned to Linkon. But sleepless nights stared at you. You had other jobs. You were paid in full for the last one given that this kind of thing was entirely out of your control. There was a museum that was wanting to hire you for some consulting. And a science journal was looking at one of your proposals, and you felt pretty confident about it. Not to mention you and a few buddies had applied for a grant in your preferred field of study. But that necklace. It ate away at you, and with each passing day you felt like less of a person not knowing what had happened. 

Feeling like you had failed them.

One of those sleepless nights you lay there, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. Trying to will yourself to sleep. But your phone vibrated before you could. You grumpily snatch your phone, about to put it on do not disturb. But it was an old friend in the field, a fellow archaeologists' mentor. Hannah Capek, or Dr. C as she was affectionately referred to.

It was an article about the prolific illegal antiquities trade in the N109 zone. You skim the article, feeling your blood boil even more with every word you read. The article claimed that a solid 87% of stolen or missing artifacts ended up in the N109 zone for this very trade. Auctions would be held at various auction houses or underground bars, sometimes in broad daylight. It was a lawless wasteland. Trying to follow up to retrieve the stolen good was a suicide mission. As soon as the artifact crossed that border, you're likely never going to see it again. Before you can stew in your own anger for too long Hannah sends a follow up text.

Dr. Hannah Capek: Don't beat yourself up, kiddo. You did the best you could. These statistics aren't great, but it shows it had nothing to do with you. You did everything right. Please don't lose any more sleep than you already have. This isn't your fault.

You stare at her message, tears stinging in your eyes. The weight of your own perceived failure crushing you in your bed. You open the article again, eyes skimming over some of the finer details. One hyperlink caught your eye. A wiki link. About Abyssal Chaos.

Abyssal Chaos. One of the most infamous portions of the dark web. People would pay others for any number of things, tasks, information... And it was one of the best sources of information for all things illegal. Of course, getting your foot in the door was nearly impossible. It was encrypted to high hell, and those who do manage to get in are subject to all kinds of cyber attacks, people finding their home address, stalking, doxxing... It was the wild west out there. The wiki had multiple stories of the horrific fates of a few users. But the more you skimmed through it, the more you felt intrigued.

You take a screenshot and send it to an old friend from high school. He was bullied pretty bad, but you stuck up for him. He always promised you that if you needed anything, call him. He's a techy guy now, makes some good money. 

But he got you exactly what you needed.

You sit up a little straighter. They had cleaned up the necklace beautifully. The detail work on the cleaning had the marks of a professional. The metal shone in the light as bright as it did on the day of its owner's wedding. As the man held up the necklace, you could see the back. The engraving of the family's name was still there.

"This one of a kind beauty was found out in the jungle in a trash heap. Local legend says a pretty little bride almost got mugged and hid them away." The man snickered, and a few other patrons laughed. "So some scientists dug them up again, and all these years later they got taken anyway. Oh well, beats them going to some foreign museum where they get written off as some exotic beauty, impossibly forged by the natives." Your grip around your glass tightens. You want to shout. No, that wasn't what was going to happen, you'd never allow it. They aren't exotic. It wasn't impossible for the local village all those years ago to know how to do such beautiful work. You're clenching your jaw so hard you can feel a muscle twitch.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice motion in your drink. You wait a few seconds before putting it down. You won't be taking another sip of it for the rest of the night. Instead you give the stage your full attention again. You tune out your anger and tune in to the man finally getting to the point. The auction. Everyone participating had a paddle. Like a professional, the man on stage began to call out numbers. Starting low, in the thousands. If you had to put a number on an artifact like this it would be somewhere in the millions due to its age, but in reality the history was what made it utterly priceless. You can't stop this from happening. You knew ahead of time calling in a tip on The Nest would get you on a hit list. So instead, you opted to come and get a good description of the thieves and potentially the buyer. If they had property or assets in Linkon or anywhere else outside of the N109 zone, then you could submit a real tip. And even if the necklace vanished, you could still achieve justice.

"Twenty-five hundred, I got twenty-five hundred can I get thirty, can I get thirty," The rapid fire words attempted to rile the crowd up. In spite of his best efforts, the crowd didn't seem all that impressed. Conversations struck back up among powerhouse couples. Lower crime lords went back to attempting to haggle a protocore smuggler for his wares. The man on stage kept looking to two others in the audience. They were close enough to the stage for the light to fall on their faces. They looked nervous.

Ah ha. 

You lift your hand to your mouth to hide a hint of a smirk. Bingo. Three thieves. The three must be in on it together one way or another. You drink in their appearances, every scar, every mole. Every easily notable body mark that would identify them. Steadily, the room returned to the murmur it had been in when you first arrived. No one was giving the man on stage the time of day. And it was beginning to make him sweat.

Good. You lean back, an impassive audience to his humiliation as a low voice rang out.

"Five million." 

Your shoulders tense. Your eyes widen. You look around, hoping you didn't just blow your cover. But lucky you, everyone in the room had the same reaction as you. Eyes and bodies slowly turned towards the newcomer, emerging from the shadows with slow, unhurried footsteps. He was tall, taller than the man on the stage. Broad shoulders. Strong, a fighter's build. You focus back towards the stage and the thieves in the front row. They were grinning but trying to hide them, smacking each other's arms in disbelief.

You've seen enough. You swivel back around in your seat, paying for your drink in a generous wad of cash. The bartender nods and takes the sizable offer, pocketing whatever wasn't needed for the drink. You stand up, weaving your way through the growing crowd who was staring at the intimidating figure now on stage. His silver hair caught in the light, but you couldn't make out anything more since his back was to you. But you don't need to. You have enough. Even if the necklace vanishes, you have enough to turn in the thieves themselves. It won't return the necklace to its rightful home but it'll be one less group to cause these kinds of problems.

You slip into an alleyway, finally taking a deep breath as you escaped the suffocating atmosphere of The Nest. The low lights, the lingering haze, the scent of smoke and sin lingered in that place. It clung to your clothes and your hair. You'd need a shower after this. You pull out your phone texting your old friend on an encrypted service.

You: Done. Thanks for the assist.

Anonymous: Ur welcome. Be careful, don't go straight home, just in case.

You turn off your phone and pocket it. You slowly begin to walk, heading towards the back of the building before deciding to go to Azure Square. But as you quieted your footfalls, moving quickly but quietly, a slow, gnawing sense of dread crawled up. From the heels of your feet. To the back of your knees. Slithering up to your thighs. Hips. Waist.

Slowly, this sense of dread coiled up your spine. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, and you turn your head. Your eyes widen and a scream bubbles up in your throat as a black mist coiled around your mouth. Your scream is muffled. You lose control over your body as you're knocked over, dragged back into the alleyway as you struggle violently. But with each twitch, kick, and squirm the intangible shackles around you only tightened. You're pulled into the darkness of the alley once more when that deep, rich voice from earlier called out.

"I've never seen you at The Nest before." His voice was low. He spoke slowly, languidly. Like he could do this all day. Like you were in a game of cat and mouse, and he had already caught his prey. ”Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing these new jewels, sweetie.” That same low, baritone voice from the auction caught your attention. The black mist around your mouth vanished as the man slowly walked towards you. In a flash of light you can barely make out red eyes that had an otherworldly glow. But he remained in the shadows, not letting you see his full face. "What are you?" He cocked his head. 

You know better. You do. You recall the advice of all your mentors. Don't do anything stupid. If you must, don't get caught. You've already failed both. And with your legs still bound you couldn't enact the last of their advice. You lick your lips, eyeing the man as you lay on the ground. You scoffed, looking away from him. “Just the person who found those jewels.”

“This isn’t finders, keepers, sweetie. I paid for these fair and square.” He approaches, still just barely out of view from the shadows. He tilted your chin up to face him again with the toe of his shoe. His right eye began to glow a deeper red. You suck in a breath, your head suddenly pounding in pain. It felt like someone had dug their fingers into your brain directly through your eyes. The probing was unwelcome and made your stomach churn.

“And those thieves that pawned them off to you stole them from an archaeological site! Those belong to their proper community.” You spat back. “I don’t want them. I want them to go back to where they do belong.” You say it without a second's hesitation. But it wasn't because of this probing. The sensation stopped for a second. The glow dimmed, before surging back. The prodding became less intense, but it still felt like someone was actively in your head. The mist around your wrists vanished, allowing you to slowly hoist yourself into a sitting position on the ground. He didn't speak. Neither did you. You swallow. Your legs were still bound in a black and red mist, but it didn't hurt. It was just a bizarre pressure. You slowly rub your wrists, waiting.

”I didn’t realize your kind were so… altruistic nowadays.” You scoffed at his response, looking away. He must've put two and two together. Your heart rate picked up. You just blew your cover to someone very powerful. So much for don't do anything stupid.

"Times have changed." You respond. "That doesn't belong to you, or me, or those thieves. You're right. This isn't finders keepers. We're not children." You look back down at your legs. The mist was slowly abating, retreating back to the man still standing in the shadows. He looks down at the necklace in his hands, and your gaze follows. His eye glowed for just a moment more, but with a soft hum you felt his presence leave your mind. You had never heard of anyone with an evol who could do such a thing. A shudder rips through you, from head to toe, and finally he turns on his heel.

"Times have changed, yes." He confirms, the steady footfalls from his dress shoes slowly fading into the distance as he returns to The Nest. You watch. You wait. And as soon as you knew he was gone, you scramble to your feet. Without another word, without another glance, you turn and run as fast as your legs will allow. Every single one of your old professors, mentors, colleagues... all of them would smack you upside the head for doing something so ballsy and stupid.

But favor and fortune shone down on you that night. You survived. You escaped. And now you can file an anonymous police report. For the sake of preserving your own life you decide on a whim to omit the presence of the man with silver hair. At this point, it wasn't fully about the necklace. It was about the principle, it was about the thieves. About justice.

That necklace didn't belong to you. Or him. Or the thieves, or the archaeologists.

It belonged to its home village. One you hoped it would survive to return home to.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

BZZT.

You slowly open your eyes, the constant vibrating from your phone drawing you out of slumber. It was five in the morning, and only the first few rays of light from the sun were breaching your window. You were tempted to put your phone on do not disturb and go back to sleep. You snatch it off your nightstand, ready to do exactly that when the messenger's name caught your eye. A friend you had made in the village you had just been working in. You sit up a little straighter, opening her messages.

The first thing that came up on your phone was a picture of the necklace. All cleaned up and glittering like it had just last night in that odd man's hands. It was in the museum, already in a safe case, with multiple signs in different languages. You exit the picture, hurriedly reading all of her messages. Someone in the middle of the night last night broke in to the museum. But they left the necklace. No note, no identification, nothing. As you were reading through her texts another text appeared on your screen. Hannah Capek.

You switch to her text. It was a news article. 

Breaking News: Artifact Smugglers Apprehended in the Night

Dr. Hannah Capek: Justice has been served! Sleep a little easier, okay? Some good samaritan ratted them out. 

You tap on the link. Unable to believe your eyes. But Hannah's words rung true. The article had been released only an hour ago from a journalist who worked at night. Three artifact smugglers had been turned in at the Evol Police's doorstep in the middle of the night, all three confessing to their many crimes in near tears. It was clear someone had scared them, but the confessions matched multiple recent robberies and smuggling operations documented all over the region. These guys were professionals. The police took them into custody and would be launching an investigation to verify what they said.

You sit up, your covers sliding off your body as you reread the article once. Twice. Thrice. No. No way.

You run your fingers through your hair, absolutely bamboozled by this change in events. You forward the pictures and context from your friend to Dr. Hannah, and then forward the link from Dr. Hannah to your friend. She immediately texts back. Gleeful, thanking you. You sit up straighter and rapidly text her not to. This wasn't your doing. You had nothing to do with those thieves showing up at the police department. You had nothing to do with the necklace reappearing. You wouldn't be able to even get there in a night!

Who could have done this? The man who bought it? He seemed the most likely suspect. But he paid five million for it, why would he turn around and give it back to the village? He said it himself, this isn't finder's keepers. You swing your legs over the side of your bed, standing up. You walk over to the curtains, peeking out beyond them. The sun was just rising. Whoever did this did it in the night, likely only a few hours ago. All of this was breaking news. Brand new. Something you hadn't seen in your career, or your lifetime.

Just who was that man?

It started with a blur just outside your peripheral vision. 

You were sure you were just paranoid after visiting The Nest. Exposing yourself on Abyssal Chaos and showing up in person at a well known information hub wasn't the brightest idea in hindsight. And yet, somehow, it got you the exact end results you were hoping for. You found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder for the next few weeks as you went about everyday life. And every once in a while, you would catch a black blur just out of line of sight. It was fast.

And finally, one day, you catch the bird in action.

You had left the window open just a crack to get some fresh air. It was a beautiful day, so you might as well give your home a refresh. You come out of your bedroom, trash bag in hand, and catch the culprit red handed. A red and black crow was sitting on your balcony, pecking at the window, as if trying to open it. You drop the bag. The crow stops. It's a stare off.

Neither of you move. You stare at the bird. The bird stares at you. An uncomfortable silence falls before you slowly reach for your phone. The bird cocks its head. Was- was its eyes glowing? You take a single step towards it, and it doesn't fly off. You open your phone and do a quick search. Or three.

Crow meaning omen

Crow safe foods

What do crows like to eat

You keep looking up an at the crow, who was still staring you down. Cocking its head. You find a list of crow safe foods and move to your kitchen. You fetch a small bowl and fill it with an assortment of small bits of food approved by bird professionals. You turn back around and find the crow still staring at you. The closer you got the more you saw of its robotic nature. 

"Poor thing." You murmur. You lift the window with one hand, reaching out onto your balcony before resting the bowl against a chair. "Here. It's not much, but it's something. You scared me, I thought someone was following me around all this time." Every time you saw something, it was up high, and quickly moved out of sight. It made perfect sense for it to be a bird. Nothing nefarious at all. "Did someone fix you up after a car hit you, or something?" You sit in your window sill, eyes trained on the bird. It cocks its head from side to side. Before slowly crooning at you. It hops over to the bowl provided and began to pick through the assortment. 

"I'll take that as a thank you. You're welcome." You nod, leaning back against the window frame. You scootch yourself in, pretzeling yourself into the window frame separating your apartment from your balcony. The crow seemed used to people and didn't bat an eye at your antics. You take the moment to admire the bird. The sheen of his feathers in the light revealed so many more colors than what was originally visible. "Pretty bird" You hum. The crow pops its head up, squawking in surprise. It was almost like it was flustered by the compliment. You can't help it, you cover your mouth as you laugh at him. The crow only grew more indignant. It cawed at you, sharp and raspy. 

"Hey! It's a compliment, take it!" You try to encourage it through your laughter, but the bird only seems more irritated. If a bird could scowl it certainly would. It grew tired of your antics and took off, diving off your balcony and flying away. You don't have a moment more to protest. Your eyes trail after the crow as it vanishes into the city, flying off and away. You reach out to the bowl, which only had a few things missing, and bring it back inside. "Oh well. There goes my dreams of being a Disney princess." You laugh to yourself, shutting the window behind you.

You figured that would be your first and last interaction with it. But you were pleasantly surprised.

Once a week, every week, the crow would return.

It became a routine. A habit. It would knock on your window with its beak, and you would join it on the balcony or in the window with a bowl of food. You eventually got good at recognizing its patterns and you would leave a little dish of water and food out before joining it. The first three weeks you sat in comfortable silence.

But the fourth, a month in to this strange situation, the crow brought you something.

Its caw was muffled. It held two items in its beak. You extend your hand slowly and the bird dropped the items in your hand before diving into the food. It had brought you a shiny twist tie, likely just some piece of trash, and a piece of paper. You had read that crows might bring gifts if befriended, so you immediately tie the twist tie around a finger like a ring. The bird lifted its head as you did so, and you extended your hand to show off the twist tie. 

"You have a good eye." You compliment, smiling cheekily. "I accept this proposal of friendship. Thank you for your generous gift." The crow cawed in affirmation, or you were interpreting it like that at the very least, and went back to eating. You turn your attention to the piece of paper. You unfold it. Mephisto. You look at the crow.

"Mephisto?" It immediately looked up again, mid nibble on a nut, and crooned. "Oh. That's your name, is it? Mephisto?" Mephisto bobbed his head. You laugh, looking down at the paper in awe. "Mephisto... Short for Mephistopheles. Whoever named you knows their Faustian mythology. And has nice handwriting." You pocket the paper, the crow bobbing his head again. "Well, Mephisto. It's nice to finally have your name. Guess I owe you mine." You lean in, whispering your name to the crow as if it was a precious secret only for the two of you to know. You pull back, grinning at the bird. Perhaps you shouldn't have discounted your disney princess dreams yet. "I've been enjoying seeing you every week, Mephie, but I'll be out of town starting next week." Mephisto squawked.

In a flurry of feathers he flew right at you. You hold up a hand and he settles on your fingers, chattering at you in protest. "Caw! Caw caw caw-"

"Mephisto- Mephie! I'm sorry, I have an excavation to go on. I can't just skip it." You try to assure the bird. "I'll be back. I promise, I'll come back." While crows were smart as could be, you weren't sure how much he could understand. You lift your free hand, not moving too fast, slowly approaching his head. The bird shut his eyes and headbutt your hand. You chuckle, stroking his feathers gently and carefully. "I promise, Mephie, I will come back. I'll be in the mountains for an excavation, that's all. It's for a month, I'll be back after that. I trust you can look after yourself, along with whoever else is caring for you." The crow crooned again, still protesting your incoming absence.

"Hey." You coo. "I'll bring your ring you gave me. That way I'll have something to look at and think about you while I'm gone, okay?" You murmur, showing him the twist tie he had just given you. Mephisto slowly opened his eyes, crooning mournfully once more. "Yeah, I'll be back. I'll be here next week for our weekly meet up. I just didn't want to spring this on you." You add, and he just looked at you. He clacked his beak, still balancing on your fingers. He flapped his wings a few times, and you extend your hand to give him space to spread them out. He cawed and released your fingers. As he flapped his wings, he made his way to the banister of your balcony. He tilts his head at you. You smile. He always does this. "Goodbye, Mephisto. I'll see you next week." You nod to him. With a caw, he turns and takes to the skies. 

Mephisto didn't appear the next week. You waited in the windowsill for hours, but he never appeared. You couldn't deny your disappointment, but you figured it was for the best. You focused on packing, and the next day you were gone.

This excavation was situated in the mountains. Though, luckily, your excavation was in a convenient clearing. After conducting a brief walking survey you and your crew got to work. You were lucky enough to have one of your colleagues from the last excavation on your team, so the two of you partnered up. You worked on your one meter by one meter unit together, worked with the total station, and he helped with bagging and tagging artifacts. He was always one of the guys who was quiet when your last supervisor was being a misogynistic piece of shit, but he was much more vocal at this one. Talkative, always wanting your attention. This excavation was much older than even your last one, and from context clues you and your team were thinking of it as a frequent place people stopped crossing the mountains for trade. Beads of various precious stones were found, and a few pieces of jewelry were still in tact.

The rest of the team was pausing for lunch, heading to a separate part of the clearing to overturn buckets and sit down to eat. You volunteered to stay behind and finish up some field notes, so they left you be to do so. You turn over an empty bucket and sit down, scribbling some notes about the recorded depth of trench one, unit six, which had a jade bead and a bracelet with similar beads at a depth of 40 centimeters. You describe your findings, the quality of jade, and the variety of soil present when you heard a rustling. You lift your eyes, expecting to find one of your colleagues coming to ask you something. But no one was there. Your eyebrows furrow, and you lift your eyes a little higher. 

In the tree branches a familiar pair of red eyes were watching you. Your pencil and field notes slip out of your hands, hitting the dirt with a dull thud. 

"Mephisto?" You call, slowly standing up. He cocks his head, not coming any closer. "What are you doing here? You're far from home." You put your hands on your hips, slowly beginning to tap your foot. "You ghost me the day before I leave but have the ability to come and find me in the mountains." You finally squat to pick up your field notes, tucking your pencil behind your ear. Mephisto doesn't respond. He just cocks his head at you again. He looks down at the baggy at your feet. You follow his gaze and put your foot in front of it. "Nooooo, Mephie, this is one shiny I absolutely cannot allow you to take." You spoke slowly. "Mephisto. No." The crow looks back up at you.

"CAW!" He cawed rather emphatically. Was it a 'no, I'd never!' or a 'come on, please!' kind of caw? You couldn't decide. You put your fingers to your temple, sighing. 

"Sorry, Mephisto. I'm gonna have lunch soon. Don't have any food to spare you this time. I'm sure whoever is caring for you is worried, shoo, go home. I'm okay." You reach your hands up and gently shoo the bird away. He caws at you again, crooning once, before giving up. In a flurry of feathers he flies off, one feathers actually drifting towards the ground. You watch him as long as you can, approaching the feather. You pick it up, holding it up to the light to admire it. The sheen was otherworldly, absolutely beautiful. You glance around. No one was around. So you make your way to your bag, carefully tucking the feather in amongst your personal journal's pages.

You hear more rustling, so you look over your shoulder. Your teammate from the last excavation was standing in the treeline, cocking his head.

"Hey, we were getting worried. Didn't think it would take you more than a few minutes to finish up." He tilted his head, leaning on a nearby tree. You grab your lunch bag out of your work bag, nodding your head with a smile.

"Nah, I was just finishing a few things up." You walk back over, picking up the artifacts and carefully adding them to the artifact bucket. "Just was double checking the munsells for the soil. Is the earth slightly more yellow or red, you know?" You chuckle, approaching him with your lunchbox and water bottle. He laughed, walking with you. 

"Oh, don't I know it. Debating over the tiniest shift in shade, only for a cloud to move and make it look totally different." 

"And you can't put the dirt right beside the reference pictures in the munsell book or you'll ruin it. I'm still trying to find the money to buy a personal copy, but those things are expensive." You shake your head at the thought. Usually a company would ensure your crew had one, but you wanted one for yourself. Living the way you were, however, you couldn't afford to shell out that kind of money. Anwir laughed in agreement

"Oh don't get me started. You wouldn't believe the things I did in undergrad to be able to afford my degree. And even now I'm scraping by. Shit pay, shit benefits, shit coworkers..." He winked at you. "Present company excluded. But hey, we do it for the love of the discipline."

You shake your head at him, but know he had a point. Your own first thought was the awful supervisor from your last excavation. Misogynistic, chauvinistic, all the phobias and istics to make him a nightmare to work with. The field was changing, sure, but you'd still find people like him stubbornly clinging to the good old days of the discipline. "Anwir, remember how our last supervisor kept double guessing me every time I said something about munsell or depth or times? Or... anything?" You laugh again. "Listen, I double guess myself enough, I didn't need him in my ear doing the same." Anwir laughed again.

"Oh, he was the worst, wasn't he? Sorry the excavation ended the way it did, but damn, glad to be away from him." He looked away, off towards where the rest of the crew were already eating and laughing. "He wasn't all bad, but he was still a dick."

"Not all bad? Maybe cause you didn't have to face his wrath." You scoff in return, but stop talking about it as another one of your colleagues offers you a bucket.

You'd enjoy your break while you could.

As soon as everyone was done eating, it was back to work. The rest of the day flew by, and the others found a couple more notable discoveries in the same level. Other items of some value, primarily jewelry. An interesting find, one with some notable implications for the region and the ancient trade route. You pack up and head back to the base provided, before unpacking and handling more paperwork related issues. You shower, change, then work on paperwork and a narrative for the day for your field notes. You find Anwir stepping outside to make a call, but comes straight back since it was his night to cook.

He made a rich, comforting meal that immediately made everyone feel a bit more comfortable and relaxed. Aching muscles and joints calmed down, and everyone got a bit more comfortable. 

In theory, it should have been a great night.

But you look at the twist tie you had tied to the pencil sitting on your field notes. The very same Mephisto gave you almost a month ago. The excavation is already drawing to a close, with only one week left to wrap up. Something feels off. Something in your body is twisting and groaning. Not like a stomach ache- but just some soul deep churning, insisting something is wrong.

Your mind is buzzing, but in spite of it all you're exhausted. You and everyone else decide to call it a night early. 

During an excavation, you could sleep heavy, or sleep light. It depended on levels of exhaustion, pain, and any lingering thoughts that might leave you tossing and turning. But that night, you slept like a log. You slept like the dead. You slept harder than you ever had on an excavation, and when you did finally wake up with a low groan, it took you a moment for your colleagues' screams to register in your mind.

But as soon as they did, the exhaustion left your bones. You grab the nearest item, lucky you a sharp trowel, and run barefoot to where all the others were. The storage room. There were signs of a struggle- paperwork everywhere, indents in the wood, and a splatter of blood on the floor. The artifact bucket had been noticeably moved, and as you make your way further inside it was clear it had been rifled through. You turn back to your colleagues, doing a headcount.

"Anwir- where's Anwir?" One of the women call out, before dashing down the hall.

"He wasn't here when I woke up!" His roommate called back, quickly following her.

You turn back into the room. It reminded you of the massacre you had found at your last excavation. You slowly walk further in. You shouldn't touch anything. You should call the local authorities and the company sponsoring you, then wait. But one thing stood out among all the mess. The rest of your colleagues ran off, calling for Anwir, asking if the blood on the floor was actually his. But on the desk in the back right beside the artifact bucket, there was a piece of paper. 

You look over your shoulder before picking it up, unfolding it.

”Keep your sparkly things under lock and key, I could suggest a few supplies. If you're worried about the other archaeologist, call the local authorities and ask for him yourself.  -S"

There, in the same handwriting as the note with Mephisto's name, lay a note clearly left for you. S. S must be Mephisto's owner. You look over your shoulder again, folding the note and tucking it into your pocket before anyone else could come in. You immediately leave, hearing the chaos unfolding among the others. Anwir's roommate called his phone, only to reveal it was still in his room. You instead step forward.

"Let's go ahead and report this to the local authorities, and the company that hired all of us. Excavation should be postponed until we know his whereabouts and safety."

"It's too early to submit a missing person's report." His roommate protested, but he was already dialing the phone number. "Don't know what they can do for him just yet, but yeah, let's get them to look at the artifact room."

When the non-emergency line picked up, your colleague explained the situation to the person on the other end. Whoever was on the phone began to laugh.

"You said his name was Anwir? We had an Anwir dropped off just this morning. He was shaken up pretty bad, he claimed he was a part of an artifact smuggling ring and had attempted to steal some of what you all found yesterday."

The silence that fell over the room was deafening. No one moved and inch. 

"Anwir? Anwir was going to steal...?" You murmur, eyes slowly narrowing. The bastard. 

"Yes, we're waiting to hear back from our contacts in the big city. He already gave us a few other names, including the names of three others from his ring that had been captured a little over a month ago. He keeps mentioning black mist...?"

Black mist. S. Mephisto.

Your lips set in a thin line, your eyebrows drawing together. 

It's all connected.

The chaos unfolding all around you faded to background noise as you retreated inward, trying to piece together the events of the past few months. The excavation with the creepy supervisor, and Anwir. The night at The Nest. This excavation. Mephisto's appearance. The black mist. The man at The Nest, he's probably S himself, if not someone associated with him. Mephisto is likely his bird, you wouldn't be surprised if he was surveillance on you. Surveillance you befriended and gave food to, no less. But he was likely how S knew where you were. 

S left you a note. And he dragged off Anwir. And, as icing on the cake, hurt Anwir or got hurt by Anwir? Your eyes slowly drifted to the patch of dried blood on the floor. Whoever this S was, he had a vested interest in keeping these artifacts from the smuggling ring.

"Hey-" You snap out of your thoughts as one of the others gently grabs your shoulder. You inhale sharply but register her presence and calm down. She slowly lets go. "I went ahead and called the higher ups. They want everything on hold until we figure out what happened with Anwir. They're sending someone to take the artifacts to the lab, and they're debating putting the whole thing on hold. Since the last time this happened the thieves destroyed the equipment as well..." She grimaced. "They don't want to end up with stolen stuff and broken gear." You slowly nod.

"Fair enough." You hum. "Good chance to update logs and stuff. Gods, this is the second time..." 

The other archaeologist laughed dryly, her amusement not reaching her eyes. "Yeah. Anwir, huh? Wonder if that was why he stepped out to make a phone call last night..." You think back on the dinner and feel your heart drop.

"We all felt really tired after he made dinner last night." You spoke slowly, looking back in the artifact room. "And there was a struggle. That should've woken any one of us up. Did he-?" You look up, meeting her gaze. She understands what you're saying before the words can fully fall out of your mouth. She scowled. 

"Bastard." She snarled, whirling around on her heel and pulling out her phone again. "I'm reporting that. We should get hazard pay- and a drug test."  As she marched off, calling supervisors and the police, you find yourself once more. Everyone was rushing around, verifying nothing else was touched or taken. You slide your fingers to the pockets of your pajama pants, tentatively tracing the outline of the note.

S.

You push yourself off the doorframe, returning to your room. Alright, S. It's time to show your hand.

You were unsurprised that the company and local authorities agreed and called off the excavation. Clearly there was a break in at the house you were staying at, since Anwir insisted none of the team attacked him. That coupled with his involvement in a smuggling ring and the drugs he laced the food with gave them all ample reason to call it early. It was always disappointing to have to leave early for any reason. For you even more so, having such rotten luck twice in a row. But perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

The very same day you arrived home to your apartment, you had a familiar guest waiting for you on your balcony. 

Mephisto looked quite proud of himself. He perched on the chair, puffed up with his head held high. You can't help but shake your head. You couldn't be mad at him, he was just doing what he was programmed to do. You ignore him, bringing your suitcase to your room. You begin to unpack, tucking your field supplies away in the same corner you always do. You load your hamper with dirty clothes to wash, put away your work boots and everyday shoes, and put a clean pillowcase on your pillow. During all of these mundane 'first day back home' tasks , the caws and pecks on your balcony window grew in frequency and volume.

Mephisto was throwing a tantrum.

You try to ignore it. You were a little irritated with him, after all. Just a little. He was basically surveillance, from what you understood. And you shouldn't be giving this S figure any more information on yourself than you already have. Who knows his true intentions? Maybe he's trying to get you in his debt, to call in some big favor. Or maybe he's a creep. You don't have enough information yet. More research necessary. Typically a comforting phrase, since it kept you in a job. But clearly you signed yourself up for something much bigger than yourself. All you wanted was for that necklace to stay in its cultural context. So many artifacts around the world were not where they belonged- colonialism was the major contributing factor. 

But you were determined to be a part of the change. Of the path forward. 

You snap out of your thoughts at a particularly loud squawk. You turn on your heel and approach the window to the balcony, sighing.

"Okay, okay, I hear you. I just had to take care of some things." You open the window, and he hops back and forth on the back of the chair cawing at you emphatically.

"CAW! Caw, caw, c a w!"

You weren't sure what he was saying. But you knew he was mad at you for making him wait. You leave the window open, excusing yourself to your kitchen. You pull the same crow mix you had made out, and since everything in it was dried it should still be good. You put some in the bowl and bring it back, offering it to him. He swings his head away.

"Oh you're really mad at me for ignoring you for a few minutes?" You curl into the same spot in the windowsill, crossing your arms over your chest. "I should be the one mad at you, you know. You're working for S, aren't you?" You fish the paper with his note out of your pocket, holding it in front of the bird. He squawked indignantly. But- was that guilt on his face?? "I knew it." You sit up a little straighter. "Okay. You're a cyborg. You've been following me around and keeping tabs on me at home. You're surveillance, aren't you?!" You point at him accusingly. His wings and head slowly drooped. Looking away. He crooned, low and slow. An admission of guilt- you think. 

You tuck the paper away again. "Hey, listen." You speak slower, in a softer tone of voice. "I'm not- I'm not mad at you, Mephisto. I'm just worried." Mephisto kept his head lowered. Was this bird guilt tripping you? Honestly, fuck it, stranger things have happened. The world turned topsy turvy ever since the Chronorift Catastrophe. "Ever since I went to The Nest, weird things have been happening. Feeling followed, feeling watched... All I wanted was to ensure more artifacts aren't stolen." You put your chin in your palm, watching the bird. "I mean... look at the British Museum. And other museums like it. I love what I do, honest, but I can't change history. Archaeology is rooted in colonialism, but my generation can be the change. You know? Repatriate the stolen goods, make sure everything goes home as safely as it can." You settle yourself in the window still further, getting as comfortable as you can. Mephisto lifted his head, his red eyes trained on you. Cocking his head back and forth. He crooned. Slowly. 

"I'm going to interpret that as you agreeing with me." You smile, reaching out to pat him on his head. He didn't shy away. "Well. Whoever this 'S' figure is, he seems to think the same way. I'm assuming he's the guy at The Nest. Tall, white hair, broad shoulders, ominous glowing right eye?" You describe him, watching as Mephisto began to rummage through the nuts. "Returning the necklace he bought. And even stopping another theft from happening in the first place. I'm honestly impressed, he could've made some money off of all of that, but he didn't." Mephisto looked at you again, crooning low and slow. He paused, lifting his head up in a sudden jerk. He cocked his head one way. Then the other. His eyes grew wider as he stared off into the distance, before sharply returning to the present. He flapped his wings, getting closer to you. You extend two fingers and he perches on them, lifting his wing. He rummages around in his feathers before pulling something shiny out. 

A red and black crow pin. He dropped it against your chest. You were taken aback, but figure this must be another gift as a thank you for feeding him. You use your free hand to pick up the brooch, admiring it in the fading evening light. "Wow..." You flip it to look on the back. It had the backing to be converted into a necklace. "Thank you, Mephie..." You look back at the crow, your smile slowly growing wider. He cawed one more time, flapping his wings. "Oh! Do me a favor before you go." You unhook the back of the brooch, pinning it to your top. "I'd like you to pass along a message to S." You lean in, the bird waiting for you.

"Thank you." You whisper. before leaning back. "Maybe one day I can thank him for his assistance in person. But until then, I'll just let you keep playing messenger." Mephisto waited, cocking his head one more time. He crooned, then took off. Carrying your thanks with him as he returned to his master.

There was radio silence for a week. No Mephisto. No excavations. No nothing. It gave you time to edit your field notes, to check how much a new munsell book would cost, and do some basic upkeep on your supplies. But you still needed work, and you needed your next job. 

That being said? It’s late. You’re tired. And you’ve been staring at the computer screen far too long.

With a heavy sigh you push yourself away from your desk, standing up while popping your back. You grab your keys and slip on your shoes at the door, hopping down the stairs as you make your way to the building’s entrance. You pull out your earbuds, about to put them in for your walk to the convenience store when a glint in the light caught your attention.

A man sat on a motorcycle in front of your building. His helmet sat in front of him on the seat, one of his hands rested atop it and flexed back and forth. He was dressed in leather protective gear typical of those who ride motorcycles. This was customized, however, with red and white stripes of a lightning-esque design on the arms and chest. He wasn't facing you at first, so you were content to walk by, when a familiar caw caught your attention. Mephisto was contentedly perched on the man's fingers, but his eyes were locked on you. He cawed emphatically a few more times. You opened your mouth to greet the bird when the man finally turned to face you.

He had a smug, almost lazy smile on his face. An aura of danger but an expression of contentment. Like this was always supposed to happen. Like he had been waiting for this. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

"Hello. sweetie." The man, undoubtedly S, finally spoke. He lifted his two fingers and Mephisto flew towards you, circling you before landing by your feet. He hopped towards you, puffed up with pride. "Mephisto here told me you wanted to speak with me?" He tilted his head. His very aura was threatening, but he remained seated on his motorcycle. Not making any sudden moves towards you. 

"I- no, that isn't exactly what I said." You look away, rubbing the back of your neck. As you shifted the street lights caught in the crow brooch you still wore. S's eyes immediately snapped to it, his smug smile widening ever so slightly.

"I see Mephisto delivered my gift." He nodded to it. Finally, he stepped off his bike, leaving his helmet on the seat. He looked massive enough at The Nest, but finally standing toe to toe with him made him look even bigger. The man is built like a brick house. You swallow, standing your ground as he approached, His long fingers lifted, almost as if to graze the brooch. You take half a step back, eyeing him warily.

He paused. His red eyes flickered up to you, and the smile slid off of his face. His eyes bore into yours. Searching for something. His right eye began to glow for just a moment, but when he heard your hitched gasp the glow vanished. S's eyes remained still. Searching your gaze, but not prying into your mind. He was searching for something, anything. But he didn't appear to like what he saw.

"Anwir." His voice dropped. "Anwir was the one involved with the smuggling ring for artifacts. He began when he was in university to make ends meet, but even in his professional career he has continued. He's gone by multiple different names. He and your old supervisor were working together." He stood up to his full height, his eyes finally leaving yours as he looked to the side. "You were right. Believe it or not, I've... had experience in repatriation, I guess you could say." 

You watched him in shock. You wanted to protest, ask how he could know that. But it made perfect sense. Anwir himself said he had to do some odd things to make ends meet, and that might explain his dismissive attitude towards the last supervisor. "How would you have experience in repatriation?" You ask him slowly. Mephisto caws, flying up and perching himself on your shoulder. His steady weight felt like a reassurance. In spite of the odd situation, you weren't in any trouble. Not in any danger. 

"Let's just say I have my own vendetta against the rich assholes who think they can steal and smuggle precious relics as they please." S leaned down again, a smile reappearing on his face. Well, more like a smirk. "We have similar goals. I'd like to cut a deal."

"Tell me your name first." The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. You stand up a little straighter. "I know you've been watching me, so you already know my name. But I need yours if I'm going to trust you." S remained bent down. His eyes trained on yours.

"You don't know it already?"

"No. All I know is 'S'. So tell me your name, S." You watch him closely. There was a flicker of something in his gaze. A hint of hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

He leaned in, breath ghosting over your ears as his voice dropped to a whisper. "Sylus." You stood your ground, not shying away from him. You let him whisper his name into your ear like its a secret he ought to protect. He leaned back to meet your gaze again, before glancing at the crow still perched on your shoulder. "Mephisto, come." his voice dropped, a firm command forcing the bird to comply. He hopped from your shoulder to Sylus's, perching there. But the bird turned back to you, crooning low and slow. In spite of yourself you exhale a soft laugh.

"Good to see you too, buddy." You murmur, extending your hand. Mephisto leaned into your hand, allowing you to pet his head. Sylus shot his bird a side eye before turning his attention back to you. "So. What is this deal you want?"

"I have an interest in some of the other members of your field. Some of them are beginning to work with an enemy of mine, and I need someone in the discipline to help me keep an eye on them. Anwir was one of them." Sylus adjusted how he was standing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Help me keep tabs on these individuals, and in return I will help you in stopping the broader artifact smuggling trade in the N109 zone." 

"The N109-" You cut yourself off, eyes wide. "Are you sure? There's no other catches to this, right?" You should be wary of anyone trying to persuade you with connections to the N109 zone. But in spite of it all, even with his intimidating presence, you didn't feel unsafe with him. Something about him felt distantly familiar. "I'm not sure I can get myself involved in something like this. I know I shouldn't have been at The Nest that night. I just-"

"You just didn't want to see history fall into the wrong hands." Sylus finished the thought for you. He sighed, looking away while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Neither do I. But there is something much larger than history going on here. Anwir was a part of a much larger syndicate. You went on two excavations with him, which makes you a potential target for his group, especially since you were at The Nest. You need someone to look after you. This deal is hardly just for my sake. It's for yours."

"Generosity always comes with strings attached." You shoot back. Not angrily, not like that at all. Appraisingly. Testing him, seeing how he'll take resistance. "You wouldn't offer protection without expecting more from me."

"Oh, so you're savvy in business deals now, are you?"

You mimic the way he's standing, head high and with your arms crossed over your chest. "Grants, funding, working with companies... there are always strings attached. Expectations. I need to know the fine print before I agree to anything. Last thing I want is to agree to a deal only for all my hard work to end up tied to the wrong group." Sylus chuckled, low and slow.

"A fair assessment." He shrugged, making Mephisto squawk as he tried to maintain his balance. "Alright, then. Here is what I will expect from you, sweetie. You will go about your normal life in the field, nothing different there. But Mephisto will tail you to act as surveillance on your companions. If I find someone suspicious I will alert you. Or, if you find something or someone suspicious, you will alert me in turn." His lips curled into a smirk. "In return for information and allowing Mephisto to tail you I will ensure your safety and continue to look into the artifact smuggling rings." His eyes lowered to the brooch on your shirt. He lifts his hand again, but doesn't touch it yet. He points at it. "This will act as your connection to me. If you ever need anything and cannot contact me, find Elysium, and ask for the Sweet Evil Trap from the Connoisseur's Menu." He does eventually allow his finger ot graze the brooch, and you do not shy from his touch this time. "The people who matter will know what you mean."

You cock your head, but don't question it. N109 zone folks were odd. You nod your head in confirmation. "I can do that." You agree. In the back of your mind you were taking note of all these things, wondering if you should reach out to your old friend against to see if you could find any information on this Sylus figure from the N109 zone. You wanted to know who you're dealing with and what you just signed yourself up for. "I just hope I'm not making a deal with the devil here."

"The devil?" Sylus laughed. A true, deep laugh. A slight hint of surprise in his voice. "What do you take me for? We were just discussing our mutual, noble ideals of repatriation."

"I'll remind you that the first time we met you dragged me down an alley with black mist and pried into my mind so deep my soul hurt." You shoot back. "That doesn't necessarily instill the most faith in a person."

"Fair." He shrugged, Mephisto again squawking. "Then allow me to demonstrate my willingness to aid you. Consider me... a patron for your discipline." 

"... I don't need an academic sugar daddy." 

"I didn't say that." Sylus laughed again. "No, no. Simply a patron of the discipline. We have the same end goals. No 'sugar' needed. Unless you're offering, of course." In spite of everything, his tone revealed he truly was joking. You manage to laugh in return, even in the odd circumstances you were presented with. 

Stalked, followed, dealing with colleagues going against everything the discipline should stand for and believe in. Here you stand with a criminal, someone you should stay far away from. And yet, right now, it feels like he is the one you can trust most out of all of them. 

"Alright." You finally acquiesce. "Fine, we can do this. But I reserve the right to call things off. I'm not stupid, I know I can't report this to the police or anything."

"I won't ask you to. This is your choice." Sylus finally looked to Mephisto. With one look the bird took off, already heading towards the N109 zone. "And I will not hold it against you if you must call it off." He sauntered back to his motorcycle, lifting his helmet. "You will know when you hear from me." He flipped his visor shut, and got onto the motorcycle. You don't know why. But you stay to see him off. As the engine revved to laugh you lifted a hand, waving him off. Before he took off down the dark streets, he glanced at you. Even through the visor of his helmet, you catch a single wink before he took off. 

The flirt took you off guard. Your breath hitched again, and watching the bike vanish down the road only left your heart beating a little faster. You couldn't even remember why you really left your apartment. In a slight daze, you turn on your heel, and go back inside.

A few days later, while you were finishing up digitizing some other notes, you received notification that you had a package. You don't think much of it, pausing to stretch and go downstairs. A friend could have sent you something, or it could be some letter from an organization or group you worked for. Or it could be junk. As you hop down the stairs two at a time, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You don't glance at it until you show up to the mailroom. You fetch the package, and only then glance down.

Unknown number: Enjoy, sweetie. 

You narrow your eyes. Wrong number? You don't respond at first, returning to your room. You open the text, looking at the number to see if it might be someone you know. You open the package with the sharp edge of your trowel you really know you shouldn't but you had it out so you might as well. You place your tool down, removing the brown paper. 

You freeze. You slowly pick the book up, holding it up in the light. You had never see a munsell book so... clean. You open it, looking through the colors of soils. You flip through each page, fingers caressing the page with a care most equipment didn't receive. Your phone buzzes again, and you quickly look down.

Unknown: You could be greedier, you know.

Unknown: A book is nothing. Whatever you need, tell me. I may not be your "academic sugar daddy", but I am your partner.

You put the book down, hurriedly picking up your phone.

You: Sylus????

You: Thank you, I've been wanting to have my own for years

You: This wasn't necessary

Sylus: Don't worry about it, sweetie

Sylus: A book is nothing. You could be greedier. Whatever you need, whatever your heart desires

Sylus: All you need to do is tell me. We have the same goal, don't we? If this will help achieve it, then it is more than worth it

You stand, slack jawed. You look between your phone and the book sitting on the table. Beside it, your trowel. And beside that, your field journal bookmarked with one of Mephisto's feathers. "Partners." You murmur aloud. You gently remove the feather from your field notes, instead tucking it into the munsell book. Your trowel remains beside it. You take your phone, pressing the 'call' button beside your newly added contact for Sylus. You move further into your apartment, putting your phone closer to your ear.

"Hey, partner. I think I'd like to be greedier." A low, tired chuckle came from the other end of the line. It was mid morning, was the man nocturnal?

"Whatever your heart desires."

[beanxiv]

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 — something about you : eyedress, dent may

he’s so pretty.

percy jackson, son of poseidon— one of the most powerful demigods to step on gaia’s green earth—

— is pretty.

his dark brows that you cleaned up around the edges for him whenever he had enough patience, his even darker hair that fell into wind-swept waves and loose curls, his sharp nose dotted with freckles that reached the height of his cheekbones— you could go on and on, and on about your boyfriend's beauty.

how he’s a son of poseidon and not aphrodite bewilders you. gods, he certainly looks like he was sculpted by the goddess of beauty.

it's what you thought about almost every time you woke up next to him. he looked so peaceful, as if he hadn't been to hell and back (literally), and saved the world on numerous occasions (also literally.)

it’s a breezy summer morning and his cabin window is open so the wind is gentle and sweeping the curtains this way and that. the abalone walls reflect light from the sun, casting a nearly transparent rainbow across his freckled cheeks.

you reach out and brush your fingers against it, and he nuzzles into your hand even in his sleep.

and even in his sleep he’s the prettiest thing you've seen.

even when he drools.

speaking of,

“what, do i have drool on my face or somethin’?” he murmurs and his morning voice makes your stomach do a little flutter akin to the way it always did when you first started dating.

your grin is an answer enough and he groans, turning over to look at his alarm clock and wipe his cheek in the process. “it's noon,” he groans again, sliding a hand down his face. “we missed breakfast, and we’re definitely late to activities.”

“it's not my fault you slept like a rock,” you hum as he pulls you back against his chest.

“well, it's your fault we were up all night,” he retorts playfully, poking you in the side and making you yelp. “b’sides, you could've woken me up, jerk.”

“aw, but you look so pretty when you're sleeping,” you tease once you recover, “and even better when you’re silent and not bothering met.”

“you love when i bother you,” he rolls his eyes and pulls you closer, nipping at your nose. ever the sassiest man you know.

you hum in faux consideration, as if debating  on his words, “i guess.”

“you know,” he corrects, brushing your hair back with gentle fingers. the same hands that had killed so many monsters, the same hands that nearly put misery out of her misery.

 the same hands that held you, comforted you, caressed you, gentled, and loved you. hands that would never lift to harm you.

you take that hand and kiss his knuckles, and he quite literally melts into your touch, with a soft sigh thst comes out almost as a hum.

he pulls his hand back, pulling you toward him in the process, and kisses your forehead, then your brow, then your nose and cheeks, until he's peppering feather-light kisses around your face.

“good morning, pretty.” he murmurs against the corner of your lips. no matter what, he never fails to give your a proper ‘good morning’ greeting (so what if it is half past noon?)

“good morning, percy,” you grin back, waiting for him to just kiss you.

and so he does.

and it's soft, with his hand sliding to rest at your nape in order to pull you close enough that he hums against your lips, and you reciprocate the sound.

your fingers card into his hair and he all but shudders against you, lips parting enough for you to brush your tongue against the seam.

his free hand moves to brush against your waist, fingers cool underneath your shirt. it starts creeping lower and before he makes you both even more late, you pull back.

he chases after your lips with the same pout that always tugs at his lips when you pull away too soon for his liking.

you push him back, fingers planted on his lips, with a grin. “brush your teeth first, sleepyhead. then we have to scour the kitchen for whatever is left from breakfast— if it hasn't already been sacrificed or given to the harpies.”

percy sighs before planting a kiss to your fingers and pulling back to slide out of the warmth of his bed, “aye, aye, captain.” he half heartedly saluted and stalks off to the bathroom, boxers low on his hips and back muscles and biceps flexing as he lifts his arm to rake his fingers through his hair.

you follow after him after stretching, after all after only a few sleepovers, you’d started leaving spare toiletries and clothes. since it's just percy (and occasionally tyson) in the cabin, you're always more than welcome to stay night. even chiron turns a blind eye (mr. d doesn't care enough to even notice.)

percy’s already got his toothbrush in his mouth when you walk in so he runs your toothbrush under the water and squeezes some toothpaste on before handing it to you.

you brush your teeth next to him, and it's quiet save face for the usual camp sounds— kids and counselors shouting, the sound of the tether ball, volleyball, newer campers screaming when they realize the climbing wall isnt just a climbing wall—

the usual.

percy finishes brushing first and washes his face, dragging the water into his hair and slicking it back a bit in the process.

again, his biceps flex as he does, and they're just so bite-able. if you didn't have a mouth-full of foamy toothpaste in your mouth, you would bite them. but you do so you don't.

instead you spit out the toothpaste and rinse your mouth then toothbrush before setting it in the same cup percy’s is sitting in. 

“so i brushed my teeth,” percy looks at you, and you're confused at first as to why he’s stating the obvious until he steps forward making you step back into the counter.

he swoops down and catches your lips in a kiss that toes the line between soft and demanding. his hand lifts to cup your jaw, tilting your head up toward his.

you think to pull away, remind him about breakfast.. but maybe being late isn't that bad. maybe you can be just a little more late.

and maybe — no, you definitely have perseus jackson completely wrapped around your finger and he's definitely proud of it.

© beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying on any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[xoxochb]

soft/girl dad! rafe I love you this will cure my baby fever

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“give her your finger back!”

“what— no, she bit me!”

you throw a pointed look towards rafe and scoop your baby into your arms. she had begun to let out soft, barely audible cries after he had taken his finger out of her mouth. she did not like that very much.

“here, my love.”

you seat the baby on your tummy with her back against your thighs. from here, you let her gnaw on your finger now to soothe her cries. they turn into quiet hiccups gradually. you exhale when she is content.

“she’s dramatic.” rafe pokes her tiny head. you slap his hand lightly.

“she’s not dramatic, she has big feelings,” you correct. you place a kiss to the spot he had poked.

“she’s six months old how big could her feelings possibly be?”

“well—” you ponder. “well she’s only a baby and you have to be nice.”

rafe smirks and lays back against the bed, hands behind his head. “I am nice.”

“you upset her. say sorry to her.”

you remove your finger from the infant’s mouth and hold her out to her father. he takes her from your hold and lays her along his torso. his mouth finds her head in a feather-light kiss.

the baby’s tiny hands reach for his face as she babbles incoherently, a smile wide gracing her lips.

“look, she’s smiling, I am nice.”

your face is unamused. “okay.”

rafe brings the baby’s head back to his lips twice more. she begins to giggle at the affection.

“don’t get her too riled up, she has to take a nap soon.”

“she’ll be fine.” he ignores your words and continues playing with the child.

you sigh and slide downwards to rest on your side. you tuck your hands beneath the side of your head and admire the scene unfolding before you. a smile appears over your mouth. you bite down on your bottom lip.

you slide in closer to your husband and your child until deemed physically impossibly to go any farther. you allow your head to rest upon rafe’s shoulder. the baby squeals when you reach her line of sight, one of her tiny hands finding your face as well. you place a kiss to her little fist.

and not much to your surprise, with the stimulation of both her father and mother playing with her she was unable to nap that afternoon.

[arminsumi]

Hmmm... thinking very amorous thoughts about overworked!Gojo right now...

Satoru's eyes show his slow aging; they're so narrowed and tired when he comes home from work as he's kicking off his shoes in the entrance — but then the corners of his eyes soften when they catch on your face. Oh, you. Oh, his sweet-faced baby.

His stress-induced scowl after a long day disappears and he shines his pearly whites at you. "Baby," he feathers, coming down to kiss you, spine arching at an almost hilariously exaggerated curve. You're liplocked by a pair of eager, wet lips right after welcoming him home. He melts against you. "Fuck, today dragged on forever... missed you so bad..." and you giggle in reply, "Yeah? Does my choo-choo train need a massage?"

He groans; you've nicknamed him 'choo choo train' because when he arrives home from work, he always lets out this sigh like a steam engine. If you listen closely you can hear the brakes squealing to a halt.

Overworked!Gojo doesn't want to do anything when he comes home from work except hold you; in the hallway, his big hands are squeezing tenderly at your hips and massaging up your back while he kisses you with a slow tilt to the side — totally zoned out on the feeling of his lips gliding over yours, you trail your delicate touch up the back of his neck and graze over his undercut. He lets out a whimper of relief, like all he's needed all day was your loving touch and now he finally has it.

Overworked!Gojo's voice has a crackly rasp when he's tired that tickles your brain; he's teasing you about how despite being in your thirties, you still giggle the same as you did when you were 16. And with that, he's getting all nostalgic. "I remember being too shy to approach you, so I'd ask Suguru to initiate a conversation — don't laugh at me! Yeah, but I was just pretending to be cool. When I was around you I was always burning up like I had a fever. Yeah, actually..." he lowers his voice into a flirty purr and brings you close, nose tip nudging your temple as he grins down at you, "... now that I think 'bout it, you still get me burnin' to a fever."

You giggle and shake your head at your silly husband, "You're so fucking cheesy, 'Toru."

"Cheesy?! I'll show you cheesy, c'mere."

"Ewww!"

"Hold still."

"Gross! 'Toru — 'Toru stoppit!"

He's giving you purposefully wet kisses all over, leaving slick trails all over your face — something he's always done as a sort of 'punishment' when you call him cheesy or psycho or diabolical.

[plutotheplum]

His Eyes All Over Me

sylus x fem!reader

summary: ever since experiencing sylus' frenzy, you find yourself feeling strange. it all comes to a head after your movie date.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blow job, p in v, knotting, scent kink, praise kink, breeding kink, aftercare, brief switch!sylus

w/c: 6.1k

a/n: guys idk what happened all of a sudden i was possessed and the breeding kink just appeared <3

also on ao3!

I know exactly what it means, which is why I’m accepting this.

Sylus’ cryptic words leave you confused as the movie ends. It wasn’t even meant to mean anything in particular, although perhaps that was just you convincing yourself that you were in total control of this situation. You were giving the feather to him as a kind gesture, nothing more. 

… Fuck, had he seen it as more? 

A dull throb spreads out from across your temples, your fingers itching to pull out your phone and simply search up whatever it is he meant.

Why did feelings have to be so complicated? 

You bite back a groan, slumping back in the car seat, an irritated look passing over your face.

“Something wrong?” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through the silence, his eyes glancing towards you as he drives.

“No,” you manage out, trying to stop your voice from dipping into a grumble. You sneak a glance at his face, only to find your gaze dipping to observe the way his long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every move after he’d rolled up his jacket sleeves.

Ever since you’d managed to stop him from descending into a Praedator’s Frenzy, you’d found yourself suffering from a strange affliction. Yes, you had been terrified when you were trapped in that large birdcage with him, panic racing through your body as you tried to stop his sanity from unravelling any further and yet… you’d been embarrassingly aroused.

The way his teeth had sunk into your earlobe, his fangs scraping and vicious against the delicate skin of your neck. You had liked it in some sick sense. The heat that pooled between your thighs was because of Sylus, his feral nature and tight grip on your hips had made your mind swirl, his low, rasping voice, the slight rut of his hips into your ass- 

You needed a cold shower. One with actual ice, preferably.

The car rumbles to a stop, and you get out agitatedly, cursing under your breath when you realize Sylus was following you in, up to your apartment. It isn’t hard for you to notice that Sylus has taken note of your change in behavior, his hands shoving into his pockets as he stares at you.

“Something is wrong,” Sylus muses, tilting his head in a searching manner. “What? You didn’t enjoy the movie?”

“It was fine,” you reply shortly, playing with your fingers. “I think I’m coming down with something.” A blatant lie to a man who probably knew you better than you knew yourself. You clear your throat, coughing a little exaggeratedly. “A cold.”

“A cold,” he echoes, dipping his head to stare down at you scrutinizingly. You yelp when he grabs at your wrist, his fingers pressing against your pulse point. Sylus’ eyes darken, his playful expression fading as his lips thin, his voice a low hiss. “Liar.”

“That’s-” you grumble, pulling your wrist free from his grasp, “that’s unfair.”

He stares down at you for a moment longer, his eyes searching. You squirm under his gaze, heart fluttering a little when he cocks his head to the side before straightening up.

“If you didn’t enjoy my company, you should’ve just said so,” Sylus drawls, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath as you step out the elevator. “I wasn’t lying because I didn’t enjoy your company.”

Your current predicament was actually because of the contrary; you were finding that you were enjoying his company a little too much. You kick your shoes off when you get inside, hearing the soft lock of the door as Sylus closes it behind him. 

When he stares at you blankly, you shoot him an unimpressed look, gesturing towards your couch. “Make yourself at home, Sylus.”

“I don’t remember my former roommate being so… cruel,” he sighs, sounding aggrieved. “Especially after rewarding me with such a heartfelt gift.” Sylus grins devilishly, his lips curving upwards, eyes glinting with amusement. 

You flush, cheeks feeling hot with embarrassment.

“Whatever you think it means,” you snap, glaring at him in an attempt to hide your own flusteredness, “it doesn’t mean that. I was being nice, okay? Because I am a nice person!”

“Right,” Sylus laughs lowly. It’s a derisive sound, mocking and aggravating enough to have you bristling with anger. You watch as he moves until he’s leaning against the back of the couch, his ankles crossed over each other, arms crossed over his chest. “You were being nice.”

“I was!” you protest, body growing warmer. “You’re just being weird and- and sauve because-” 

“Because?” Sylus presses, narrowing his eyes.

“Because you have a crush on me!”

Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t even know where the outburst came from, but your hand is slapping over your mouth as you stare at Sylus, feeling utterly mortified. You were totally projecting.

“A crush,” he echoes, clicking his tongue as he examines you.

“I- I didn’t mean that,” you blurt out, voice all pitchy and panicky. “I only meant that-”

You squeak when he reaches you in a few measured strides, his calloused fingers squishing your cheeks together until your lips pucker out like a fish. 

“No?” Sylus murmurs, raising his brows, “pray tell, Miss Enforcer, what did you mean?”

“I… I don’t know?” you offer meekly, fidgeting under his grip, desperate to be let free.

Sylus’ nose nudging against your cheek causes you to stiffen, his fingers loosening their grip on you to instead stroke across the skin of your jaw. You let out a soft noise when he cups your cheek, his hands maneuvering your head until his nose grazes across the length of your neck, his breath hot as it fans across your skin.

“And if I did?” he asks, pressing himself closer, arm dropping to wrap around your waist tightly. “Have a… crush as you say.”

“Then- then-” you struggle to form a sentence, biting your lip to muffle any more damning noises that could be used against you.

“Then?” Sylus cajoles, his voice low and lilting, nose pressing firmly into your throat as he sucks in a sharp breath, savoring your scent.

“Then that would be embarrassing!”

You shove at his chest, stumbling a bit, still hazy from his closeness and intimate ministrations. Sylus holds you in place with his gaze, his arms crossing over his chest and you swallow down an indecent sound when you see the slight flex of his biceps underneath the fabric of his jacket.

The kitchen counter grounds you, your fingers pressing against the cool marble. It feels hard to breathe, and rather you’re the embarrassing one, having lost your nerve the moment he had gotten too close.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Sylus asks, cocking his head to the side, his shoulders rolling lazily. 

“Notice what?” you shoot back, grasping for a glass and filling it up with water before chugging it down rapidly.

“Stop playing stupid,” he replies, his grin mirthless. “I smelt it on you the moment you stepped into that birdcage with me.”

Now he was saying you smelt bad? 

“Smelt what?” you scoff, partially offended. You turn your head, angling it down towards your shoulder, trying to sniff yourself subtly. 

Sure, maybe you were a little sweaty, but he was making you nervous! You frown at Sylus, and he rolls his eyes, his hand reaching out to grip your chin, tilting your head upwards, towards him.

“Your arousal,” Sylus rasps, his eyes pinning you in place. “Wetness, slick, whatever you wish to call it. I can smell it, Miss Enforcer.”

Your face pales, humiliation washing over your expression, stomach twisting uncomfortably with embarrassment. Whatever thoughts are currently occupying your mind fizzle away, replaced by a sense of overwhelming mortification. 

You open your mouth to respond and clamp it back shut, thinking better of it lest you embarrass yourself any further. Perhaps there was no point to having a sense of dignity, seeing as Sylus had clearly torn it to shreds. 

“The Frenzy Enhancer doesn’t only enhance a Praedator’s Frenzy,” Sylus murmurs, tugging your head back when you avert your gaze, forcing you to meet his eyes. “It heightens our senses; for the purpose of making it all the more agonizing when one is deprived of delivering a bite.”

The LCBI had neglected to include that little fact in your training. You swallow nervously when his thumb traces down your cheek, over your jaw and presses against the jumpy pulse in your throat.

“Even now,” he continues, his other hand fisting your hair to tug your head back further. You yelp at the pain that sears across your scalp, fingers scrabbling at his chest as he presses his nose to your throat and inhales again. “You’re enjoying this, Miss Enforcer.”

“I- I am not!” you protest, doing your best to sound offended and hide the traitorous heat that was currently swirling low in your stomach with every fan of his breath against your skin. “Your nerves are clearly misfiring; d- damaged probably,” you sputter, “after your Frenzy.”

Sylus laughs hoarsely, his eyes lighting up and you know your pathetic excuse hasn’t worked.

“Stop fighting this,” he says, still sounding amused, his eyes softening slightly when he sees how flustered you’ve become. “You don’t stand to gain anything from pushing me away. Haven’t I made my intentions clear?”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur, “you’re- you’re you-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, raising his brows.

You huff out an aggravated breath, refusing to be cornered.

“Nothing. I only reacted that way because you seemed awfully wanton in that birdcage,” you hiss heatedly, waving your hands about. “Not to mention uninhibited.” 

“I was hit with a Frenzy Enhancer,” Sylus snaps, his fists clenching. “Yes, I was uninhibited, but I was not wanton.”

Your lips purse as you consider Sylus’ response, remembering the way he had arched his back in his frenzy, the subtle buck of his hips when you’d placed your hand on his pec. Not to mention the groaning and well… whimpering. The feeling of his teeth on your ear hadn’t exactly helped in the moment either. 

There’s an itch in you to get the last word in.

“You were wanton,” you argue, shooting him a stubborn look.

“I could have killed you,” Sylus murmurs dangerously, reaching out to grab your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Sometimes a bite isn’t enough. I could have torn you apart, limb by limb until you were all but a severed, bleeding mess on the cold floor. Would you have liked that?”

You can’t say you would’ve, remembering the Praedator attack all those years, but this Sylus and there’s a foolish part of you that hopes that he would have been able to reign in his base desires.

“I’m still in one piece,” you mumble out, “besides, I know how to handle myself.” You sneak a glance down at the way his hands are holding yours, lips pursing as you feel the warmth of skin bleeding into yours. It’s too much for your poor heart, really. “You can let go now.”

“No,” he says quietly, his voice softer as he dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “I know you want this. I want this.”

You bite your lip at the pleading tone in his voice, heart stuttering in your chest. Sylus’ voice seems to wrap around you, and you peer up at him when he presses his forehead against yours, letting out a heavy exhale.

“Are you going to make me beg, hm?” Sylus muses, a smile pulling at his lips when he sees your lips twitch. “Please?” he whispers, his voice low and soft and somehow the sweetest you’ve ever heard Sylus. “I’ll be good, Miss Enforcer. Please?”

An incoherent noise escapes you, fingers tightening into his jacket as he steps closer, his body flush against yours.

“Will you let me have you?” he whispers, nosing into your cheek. “...Or perhaps you don’t want me to ask. Maybe you want me to lose control like I did in that birdcage. Growling and snapping and feral.”

Sylus was driving you insane. Your body feels hot, mind blank as a shaky breath escapes you when he grazes his fangs against your neck, his breath hot. You can feel how sticky your panties have become, thighs pressing together to try and soothe the ache of your cunt, aware of the overwhelming emptiness of it.

“Do you deny it, sweetness?”

“No,” you concede, your voice trembling, “no, I don’t.”

He hums, nudging impossibly closer, tongue darting out to lave over the erratic pump of blood in your throat. You open your mouth, a quiet mewl leaving you as he smiles against your skin, his lips pressing a heated kiss to your sensitive skin.

“Is that so?” Sylus muses, his hands drifting down to grasp your hips. “Such a shame you’ve waited so long to confess,” he continues, his voice low and purring, “had you asked me earlier, I would have given you my cock; no questions asked.”

“You- you would have?” you ask, your voice strangled as he kisses your neck again.

You can hardly catch up with what’s happening when he spins you around in his arms, his chest flush against your back, arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

“Yes,” he soothes, his fingers wrapping around your throat to tip your head back against his chest. “So many opportunities wasted,” he sighs, clicking his tongue. “I could have had you bouncing on my cock days ago, had my tongue buried inside of you, pounded into you until you were crying, bred you on my knot-”

“K- knot?” you squeak, head snapping to meet his eyes, “I thought that was a myth.”

“Hardly a myth,” he sighs, fingers dipping lower, delving under your skirt, “Praedators have knots, sweetness; intended to-” you gasp when he presses the pads of his fingers against your damp panties, stroking gently, “intended to lock us together.” Sylus smiles against your cheek, revelling in your wetness that was soaking through. He increases the pressure of his fingers, rubbing harder. “And I fully intend to knot you, Miss Enforcer,” he whispers, lips drifting across your cheek in a fleeting kiss. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. You’ll be begging to be bred the moment I cum inside of you.”

Begging to be bred? Cumming inside? He was going to cum inside? You were most definitely going to die tonight; although perhaps part of you was resigned to your fate, his obscene words making you greedy and leaving you wanting more. 

“Please,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his hand, grasping at his wrist to press his fingers against your clothed pussy more firmly. “I- I want that.”

Sylus lets out a hoarse grown at your whimpered confession, his fingers tugging your panties to the side.

“You’re dripping,” he hisses, fingers sliding through your puffy folds, “so, so wet, baby. Smells like you’re in heat.”

You really had to do more research on Praedators. Maybe you were in heat with how bold you had become, no longer stifling your noises, too far gone to care.

“That’s it,” Sylus rasps, rubbing your slick over your folds before sliding his fingers up to rub against your swollen clit. “Oh, it must ache,” he coos, beginning to rub tight circles against the throbbing bud, “I can feel how needy you are.”

Your head bobs up and down in rapid nods, ass pushing back into him as you rock your hips, whining when he circles your clit and squeezes your throat at the same time.

“Oh- oh fuck-” you mewl when he hunches over you a little, his breath quickening as he presses his hips into your ass like he had done a few nights ago in that birdcage. “Sylus!”

“So wet,” he mutters as though in a trance, his chin resting on your shoulder, fingers speeding up. “Shall I give you my fingers, baby, hm?”

“Y- yes,” you whine, dragging out the word into a low hiss, your nails digging into his forearm.

A sharp gasp leaves you when he eases one finger in, another following suit quickly after. It’s nothing like the feel of your own fingers, Sylus’ are longer and reach much, much deeper. You feel full already, head dropping forward as you moan raggedly, pushing at his hand to try and stuff his fingers inside of you even more.

“Greedy little slut,” he growls, his fingers crooking inside of you, “so needy and wanton, aren’t you? Pushing me away when what you really want is this - my fingers inside of you, my hand wrapped around your throat, my cock rutting into your ass.”

“I do,” you hiccup, mouth dropping open as you continue to moan, hips swaying back to meet his rutting, the everpresent press of his hard cock against you making your cunt drip with arousal. “Ah hah- I do want this.”

“Yes, you do,” he whispers raspingly. “Take what you need then, baby, take my fucking fingers.”

And you do take his fingers with soft cries and needy gasps and desperate whimpers. Sylus quickens his pace, tightening the hold he has on your throat when you try to squirm away, the lewd sounds of pussy embarrassing in the quietness of your apartment. He breathes heavily against your ear, panting as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, his hand turning slightly to add his thumb to the mix.

You arch your back against him when he rubs your clit, turning your head into the crook of his neck, mewling as you try and bounce, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. Sylus snarls when you clench down on his fingers tightly, his face pressing into your neck, fangs digging into your skin as he leaves harsh, biting kisses. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you begin to chant, your hand sliding into his hair, fisting it and tugging as you roll your hips needily, panting raggedly. “‘m gonna ah- ‘m gonna cum, Sylus.”

“Yeah?” he rasps, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, careful to not let his fangs sink in too deep. “Cum on my fingers then, grind that wet, little pussy all over my hand and cum, baby.”

A sharp gasp leaves you, fingers clutching at his wrist when he fucks his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb unrelenting on your swollen clit. You moan brokenly when he kisses your neck, tipping your head to the side to bare more of your neck to him. Sylus growls, his kisses trailing upwards, his lips soft behind your ear.

You cry out when he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, feeling the way his fangs bite into the delicate bone of your ear. It’s just like in the birdcage, you think dazedly. He ruts into your ass harder, and the ragged panting coming from him is enough to make you come undone. You try to steady yourself, but it’s impossible with the way your thighs tremble, head tossing back as you cum around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out when you shudder and quake in his arms, his grip tightening to prevent you from falling when your knees buckle. Sylus kisses your cheek, dragging his lips to pepper soft kisses along your jaw as you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm, his fingers still stroking over your clit gently as your cunt clenches. “Good girl, sweetness, you did so well for me.”

Chest rising and falling rapidly, you drop your head back against his chest, leaning against Sylus for support. You whine softly when he pulls his fingers free, his hands petting over your skirt as he smooths it down over your thighs.

On shaky legs, you turn, arms wrapping around his neck. He hugs you closer, his head lowering as his nose brushes against yours gently.

“Be mine.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses you, deep and longing. He squeezes at your waist and your hands drift, from his shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them to bring him closer, to kiss him more desperately.

Both of you stumble into the kitchen table, Sylus’ hands landing on either side of you as he deepens the kiss. You whine when he licks at your lower lip, mouth opening obediently for him. He groans and you let your hands drift, pawing at his trousers, palming at the material to feel the hard bulge of his cock, hot and thick and throbbing faintly against your hand through the layers of fabric. 

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him feverishly. “I want your cock, Sylus. I- I want you to-” you can hardly believe you’re about to say this, but the thought of it ignites a heat inside of you, an overwhelming need to be completely at his mercy. “I want you to breed me.” 

His crimson eyes flare, hands reaching out towards you, pulling your shirt up over your head. You make an indignant sound when he hurriedly pulls your bra off, moaning in succession when he pinches your stiffened nipples.

“I can do that,” he murmurs, pulling at your skirt and panties too, until you’re bare. “I’ll breed you, baby.”

A laugh bubbles out of you when he picks you up, arms wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist. Sylus’ steps are practised as he strides into your bedroom, tossing you onto your bed. You bounce a little, regaining your balance before crawling towards him, nuzzling into the bulge of his cock.

“‘s big, Sylus,” you whisper, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his jacket and shirt off in a smooth motion, his defined abdomen on display. You tug at his belt and he tugs it free, pushing his trousers and boxers down to reveal his cock.

It’s thicker than you’ve seen before, the tip of it blushed angrily, pre-cum smeared across the head. Your mouth waters, inching closer to run your tongue against the length of his cock, mewling softly at the heady taste as you trace your tongue across a prominent vein on the underside.

Your brows furrow when you run your tongue along the length again, pulling back to find a swollen ridge at the base of his cock. His knot. 

“Can I touch it?” you whisper curiously, head tilting to get a closer look.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, fingers spreading out across your scalp, scratching gently.

It’s strange, you think. A little puffier and thicker than his actual cock, darker in color too. You press your fingers against it gently and it gives just a bit under your prodding. You sneak a glance up at Sylus and he raises his brows, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“It’ll feel good inside of you,” he promises self-assuredly, “swells up when- oh fuck-”

His breath stutters when you mouth at his knot, tongue laving over the sensitive spot as you squirm, kissing his knot. You lick over the ridge again, smiling to yourself when Sylus’ thighs twitch. His hand pushes at your head subtly when you focus on his cock again, a quiet breathy sound escaping him, enough to have you perking up and your pussy clenching. You want him as needy as he had you.

“You said you’d be good,” you coo, leaning forward to brush a kiss to his hip, your head dipping again to nuzzle against his cock.

“I- nghhh-” Sylus stammers, his cheeks flushed a light pink when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to suck lazily. “I- I am being good.”

You hum happily, pressing your head forward, swallowing down more of his cock.

“Fuck-” he breathes out, his hands petting at your hair, pushing down gently to make you take his cock further, until it’s stuffed down your throat and your nose is buried into the snowy hair at the base of his cock. “Feels- ah- feels so good, sweetness.”

You smile when he lets you pull off, lapping at the tip of his cock teasingly, your hand reaching up to squeeze his pec. Sylus swears, his back arching at the action, a soft whine spilling out of him.

“You like this,” you muse, dipping your head to suckle at his balls, relishing in the noises he lets out, watching his thighs tremble. You stare up at him hazily, tongue lolling out for him when he grasps his cock, his hand squeezing at his knot, his knuckles white with tension.

Your fingers pinch at his nipple greedily when he presses his cock back in and you squeal, the sound muffled around the thickness of his cock when he tugs harshly at your own nipple in retaliation. 

“Brat,” he mutters, pushing your head down further, grunting softly when you dig your nails into his thighs and swallow around his cock.

“I thought you were being good,” you whine when he tugs at your hair, dipping his head to kiss you eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth. You pout when he pulls away, feeling betrayed by the shortness of his submission. 

“Sorry, doll,” Sylus says, petting your head and rewarding you with another kiss; this time softer and sweeter, his lips lingering. 

You let him kiss you in your dazed state, and Sylus takes advantage, crawling over you, his hands kneading at the fat of your thighs. Your bed is already messy, the sheets rumpling as he jostles you a bit, patting your thigh to make you move further up on the bed.

Sylus settles between your thighs, his cock hot and heavy against your stomach as he drops his weight onto you, his hands finding yours before pinning them above your head. You sigh into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into your ass when he rolls his hips, grinding his bare cock against your pussy.

“I like these,” he mumbles when he kisses down your chest and noses into your breasts. An airy noise sounds when he sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, his teeth catching against the bud before he bites down measuredly. 

You squirm, hips rolling needily when he sucks more of your breast into his mouth, alternating between them when he feels the other being neglected.

“Such pretty tits,” Sylus sighs, pulling back to stare at the stiffened peaks of your breasts, covered in his spit and budding teeth marks that were bound to bruise.

“I thought you were gonna knot me,” you murmur, rolling your hips up, mewling when you feel his cock slide between your folds.

“So desperate,” he muses, letting go of your hands in favor of grasping his cock.

You look down, eyes half-lidded as he grips the base of his cock, right over his knot that somehow seemed a little larger in the moments that had passed. A whine escapes you when he slaps his cock against your pussy, your cheeks flushing when you see the glistening strings of slick clinging to his cock.

“How sweet,” Sylus croons, his grin growing sharper, “even your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.”

You huff out a breath to hide your embarrassment, throwing your arm over your eyes. “Don’t talk like that.”

He laughs, rising up to sit on the haunches of his legs, his hand stroking his cock lazily. “But you enjoy it, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want now.”

You watch with bated breath as he notches the head of his cock against your pussy, squirming when you realize how much his cock is actually going to stretch you out. The knot at the base seems even more intimidating; you feel a little nervous, thighs trying to clamp shut just when Sylus begins to push in. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, “relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

You reach for his hand, trying to calm your rapid heart and Sylus gives it to you, lacing your fingers together before kissing your knuckles.

A soft gasp leaves you when he begins to push in again, and that’s when you feel how girthy his cock truly is. It stretches you, inch by inch and you bite your lip, eyes slipping shut.

“That’s it,” Sylus soothes, squeezing your hand and tilting his head to kiss your shoulder, “take my cock, sweetness.”

An incoherent sound emanates from you when he sinks all the way in, your hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you feel how good he’s stretching you, how full you feel - and that’s without his knot. You stare down, heart fluttering in your chest when you see where you’re connected, his cock buried inside of you.

“A- aren’t you going to put your knot in?” you ask meekly, mouth dropping open when he begins to move his hips, the slow, rolling motions making you see stars.

“When you’re ready for it,” Sylus whispers, his voice hoarse, “pretty pussy’s still too tight for it. Practically trying to milk my cock already, baby.”

You hiccup, tears nearly springing to your eyes when he begins to draw his hips out, thrusting forward more forcefully. Sylus moans loudly and you claw at his back, arms and legs clinging to him tightly when he swirls his hips and grinds them forward, burying his cock in deeper with every thrust.

His knot seems to swelling rapidly, and you peek down with wide eyes, letting out a shaky breath when you see how thick it’s become. It squishes up against you with every thrust Sylus delivers, catching against your clit every now and then. 

“I- ngh- fuck- I don’t think it’s going to fit,” you whimper, trying to push at Sylus’ abdomen when he grips your hips.

He snaps his teeth, irritation showing on his face when you try to squirm away from his knot, his grip tight enough to keep you in place. “Don’t fucking run from it,” he snarls, and you’re reminded of the way he was in that birdcage, feral and unrelenting. 

You gulp when he grips your thighs, pushing them down towards your stomach, practically folding you until your cunt is on display for him. It’s lewd and obscene and so terribly hot, that your pussy clenches down greedily, eager for more of his attention.

“There we go,” he whispers, snapping his hips harder, his balls smacking against your ass, “pretty pussy loves my cock, hm?”

You blink up at him, nodding shyly, the words slipping out of you unbidden. “I love your cock, Sylus.”

Sylus’ hips stutter to a stop when he hears your shy, whispery words, his cheeks flushing to a pretty pink that has your eyes lighting up.

“Y- yeah?” he murmurs, and you laugh when he clears his throat, giddy by the fact that you’ve managed to fluster Sylus of all people. “Whose cock is it then, baby?”

“Mine,” you murmur, your fingers reaching down to scratch at his navel, through the coarse hairs that lie there. “Your cock’s all mine.”

Sylus groans and you yelp when he suddenly spreads you open, gasping when he thumbs apart your folds, his knot beginning to sink inside of you. It’s a tight fit and you cry out, tears pricking at your lash line when he finally manages to bully it in.

You feel so full, you’re almost sure you can feel his cock in your throat. 

“No- shit- don’t fucking clench,” he groans, his head dropping forward to bury his head into the crook of your neck when your pussy flutters around his fat cock and knot, trying to accomodate. 

“Can’t help it,” you wail, fingers pulling at his hair harshly, squeaking when he tugs his knot free and starts to fuck you again. 

Sylus ruts his hips into you, driving forward and pounding his cock into your cunt until you sob, writhing on your bed, the building pleasure entirely overwhelming. The clap of his hips is loud, balls smacking into you with every thrust, his knot creating an embarrassing sound whenever it sinks inside of you, before Sylus pulls his hips back, tugging the knot free.

“Gonna breed you,” he begins to mutter, his teeth nipping at your shoulder and neck, biting with measured care. “I’m going to breed this tight fucking cunt, sweetness. Give you all of my fucking cum.”

“All of it,” you echo breathlessly, “want it- want your knot, Sylus.”

“You’re getting it,” he growls, squeezing your hips tightly before shoving his knot in completely.

You scream, twitching when it swells inside of you completely. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, entirely too large to be tugged free again when Sylus jerks his hips.

“Oh- oh my- fuck-” you squeal, and Sylus smashes his lips over yours in a heated kiss. It’s all teeth and fangs and spit, and you grab blindly at his shoulders, gasping uncontrollably when it continues to swell, growing fatter and fatter until your pussy throbs around it, the knot locking you together.

“Cum,” Sylus rasps against your lips, “cum, doll, cum on my fucking knot. Cum on my fucking knot so I can give you my cum and breed this sweet, little pussy.”

You moan brokenly, thighs twitching when he rubs your clit, the sensations on the sensitive bud trying to make you curl away from him. Sylus kisses you again and you whimper into his mouth, cunt clenching uncontrollably as you cum, head tossed back, and back arched.

He curses, his head dropping forward at the feel of your pussy, and you mewl when he cums straight after, ears perking up at the low growls and breathy groans. His cum is hot and thick, and you’re still too full, filled up with his cum and his cock. The knot doesn’t give way until several moments later, deflating slowly.

Sylus’ cum spills out, hot and slow and you watch with dazed eyes as it leaks out of you, your pussy fluttering around nothing, thanks to the loss of his fat cock. 

“That’s no good,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading through his cum, rubbing it over your folds and clit before trying to push it back into your pussy.

Sylus frowns at you when you slap his hand away, and you give him a half-hearted glare, pussy aching and thighs sore from the way he had fucked and bent you. He hums, slinking down the bed to kiss your thighs and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, the throbbing in your pussy fading faintly as he massages your sore muscles and kisses your clit every now and then, his actions affectionate.

You let him clean you up, thankful for the glass of water he brings you. Sylus pulls you closer into his chest, kissing your forehead, his hands smoothing up and down your sides.

“So what does it mean?” you ask him quietly, leaning forward to meet his kiss when he tips your chin upwards, “the feather?”

Sylus’ expression sobers for a moment, his lips grazing across your cheek to whisper into your ear.

“That your soulmate is near.”

You pull back, staring up into his eyes suspiciously. When you see the slight twitch of his lips, his usual smirk pulling across his lips, you scoff and swat his chest. He laughs, catching your wrist and bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“What?” he murmurs, “am I really such a bad candidate to be your soulmate?”

“You’re lying,” you grouse, letting him pull you up onto his lap and press his face into the crook of your neck.

“You don’t know that,” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to kiss the pulse in your throat.

You can’t help but think he has such a strange obsession with it. When he emerges from the crook of your neck, you cup his jaw, staring up into his eyes. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, you think, spending every life with him, especially when he’s like this.

“Then promise me,” you say, your voice holding a hint of a challenge. “Promise me that when we’ve passed and our bones are nothing but dust that you’ll find me in the next life.”

Sylus seems slightly taken aback by your request, his eyes widening momentarily before he leans forward, slotting his lips over yours. “Is that a confession of love, sweetness?” He smiles against your lips, nipping your lower lip. “In any case, I promise it,” he whispers, his gaze intense, “in this life or the next, I will find you and have you.”

You purse your lips, heart fluttering at his declaration.

“You’re a fool,” you mumble, pressing yourself more firmly against his chest, head resting on his shoulder.

“And yet you still took my knot.”

“I hate you.”

Sylus pouts mockingly, his lips attacking your cheek with kisses until you have no choice but to let out the laughter you’ve been holding in. His words are a gentle whisper, caressing your skin, his promise tightening the unseen bonds that bind you together. 

“Forever, my sweet soulmate.”

[reignpage]

The JJK men as your boyfriend: their likes

Gojo - Likes being the first thing you see in the morning

You’re deep in sleep, snoozing life away, when you feel something tickle your nose. Heavy eyes opening ever so slightly, a frown grazes your lips. Satoru’s holding a feather in front of your face. Lying on his side with his head propped up by his arm, you almost resist the urge to shove him off the bed. 

“Morning, pretty lady.”

He’s got a shit-eating grin. The kind that tells you he’s been doing this for a while, anticipating, with little patience, your reaction and boy oh boy are you living up to it. 

“What the fuck, Toru?” You croak. “Why?”

Shrugging, he tickles your nose one more time before you snatch the feather and throw it in his face. It just skims his skin ever so slightly and you both watch the damn thing flutter so gracefully down onto the sheets. His grin widens. “You were snoring and I’ve been up for ages so I wanted to wake you, duh.”

“Why the fucking feather? Why not just call out my name like a normal person?”

A peck lands on your nose and you wrinkle it. He pouts. 

“Because it’s sensual and intimate.”

Well, that answers none of your questions. Despite yourself, you nuzzle against his chest, thumping your forehead against his heart. In turn, he wraps a solid arm around you. “I was having a good dream.”

“Yeah? I had a good dream too. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine; whoever had the lamer dream cooks breakfast,” he mutters against your hair. “And just to warn you, baby, my dream had dragons.”

Rolling your eyes, you fire back, “Dragons are so lame. My dream had unicorns and aliens.”

“Unicorns and aliens? Well then, I should get started on the eggs, shouldn’t I?” 

Geto - Likes to have you with him wherever he goes

“Are you sure I should be here?”

A cult-meeting’s in progress and you’re sat, rather comfortably, on Suguru’s lap. All eyes are on you. You feel the heat of every stare and glare, and you can do nothing but take it. They don’t want you here. They think you’re a distraction, a pretty little thing, sure, but also a symbol of mockery to their cause. You grimace. 

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, seems to think all is well. His chin rests on top of your head and he holds you in place the way one holds a cat firmly in their arms — he even pets you here and there like you’re genuinely soothing him.

“Of course,” he reassures you. “You can be wherever you want to be and no one can say a thing about it. Isn’t that right?”

The hall is filled with a cacophony of agreements from every follower; none of them would ever want to get on his bad side, after all. And you won’t lie: it is quite nice to be involved. 

Nothing could ever feel wrong when he’s holding you so good. Warm, firm and smelling like home, there really isn’t anywhere you’d rather be than by him, or rather on him. He lays a kiss on your shoulder and cheek sporadically through the duration of the meeting, whenever he needs a reminder of what he’s doing this all for and what he’ll get to reward himself with after. 

“Thank you, pretty girl,” he whispers in your ear.

Leaning into his embrace, head resting on his shoulder, you smile, even as everyone can do nothing but watch. Sometimes you needed to remind Suguru that your love is unconditional, that he needn’t work for it, that by virtue of him being who he is, you love him more than anything. You’re more than happy to remind him as often as he needs, of course, but one can’t help but wish he would always know and never doubt it. 

Choso - Likes being praised

Staring at you with wide, expectant eyes, your boyfriend fiddles with a lock of his hair. “I threw out the trash.”

You look up from your book to spare him a glance. “Oh?”

“Yeah! And I also cleaned the bathroom and vacuumed the carpet.”

“That’s nice.”

Hearing, rather than seeing, his heart plummet to the ground and rest six feet under, you know he’s about to start hyperventilating. Choso has a penchant for overreacting; a sad scene appears on TV and he’s sobbing, someone bumps into you and he’s rolling his sleeves, and when you don’t reward him?

Oh, he’s already thinking of what boxes to put his things in. 

Clearing his throat, he tries again and, with a much more transparently hurt tone, wonders, “Did I do something to upset you?”

“Hmm?” You flick to the next page. “Not really.”

Then, sensing you’re not going to cave any time soon, he gets up and gathers a broom. He’s brushing the floor with much more gusto, exaggerated movements and grunts of exhaustion. You suppose you really shouldn’t be so mean, but he makes it so easy — the man wears his heart on his sleeve. 

A devastated expression meets your gaze over the book and you sigh. “Alright, alright. Thank you for working so hard, Cho. You’ve done a great job and I’m proud of you. Come and give me a kiss.”

The broom falls with a thud and then you’re being pinned to the sofa by a heavy body. He kisses your face all over, missing your lips much more often than he’d like but he’s laughing against your skin. You laugh too, book set aside carefully. 

“Can I show you the little swan I folded out of a towel? I named it after you!”

Yeah, this time he’s looking for much more than a kiss. Clever boy. 

Toji - Likes to be alone with you

“Let’s get outta here already,” he growls. 

The big guy’s been bothering you since you two got to the bar. He moaned about how crowded it is, how dim the lights are, and how ‘these pricks’ are ‘dumb as hell’ and he hopes ‘they get ran over.’

You’ve smacked him so many times, warning him to ‘shut the fuck up,’ that your hand is actually hurting. Each time, he would just roll his eyes and then grab the back of your head, smashing his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue inside to get a taste of you, and then letting go to gulp a whole pint of beer. 

“Toji, we’ve been here twenty minutes.”

He shoots you a look that says, ‘So?’

Hands wandering, you shake out of his grip and embrace a friend. For ten minutes, you leave him leaning against a wall with a dark air about him, intimidating the other patrons so much so that, when passing him, they leave a wide berth and speed-walk. 

You sigh. He’s being really well-behaved and you know it’s because he knows how much you’ve been looking forward to catching up with friends from all over town. So, he grips his glass, threatening to shatter the damn thing, and keeps his mouth shut.

But you also feel restless. You too want to go home.

Strolling up to your man, he opens his arms out and you slot into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then, pecking his prickly chin, you concede, “Okay, Toji baby, let’s go home.”

You’re picked up and snatched away into the cold of the night faster than you, or anyone else in the bar, can process. 

“About fucking time, ma. God, had me wanting to blow my head out.”

He takes you home, stripping you of your filthy outside clothes and throws you onto the bed, climbing up your naked body, laying kisses here and there, and then…slumps on top of you. The deep, satisfied groan that comes from him vibrates against your ribcage and you don’t bother telling him off for stealing your breath.

“That’s more like it,” he whispers against your neck. “Good to be home.”

Nanami - Likes pampering you (he gets husband status automatically)

Lying down on the sofa with a cold face mask, watching TV and eating popcorn on a Friday night with your hunk of a husband is what life is all about. 

You’ve got your feet on his lap and he’s massaging the hell out of them. He’s got the hands of an angel, you swear. “Oh, God, Ken. That’s perfect. Ngh! Yes, right there, oh! Uh, yes, yes, yessss, so good. So so sooooo good.”

He chuckles. Glasses off and wet hair pushed back, he’s the poster picture of a house-husband, especially with the matching face mask and pyjamas on him. Continuing his ministrations, he warns, “Sweetheart, I’m glad I have the potential to quit my day job and be a masseuse, but you really should hold off on those pornographic sounds.”

“Behave, Kento. I’m trying to watch my show.”

Pressing hard on a particular knot, you gasp. His innocent smile is too cute to get mad at. And when he playfully scolds, “It’s you who should behave, honey.”

“Ah! Ow, Ken!”

The bastard’s bitten your big toe. He actually bit you. Pulling your feet away from him and his rumbling laughter, you sit criss-crossed on the sofa, protesting against him. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at me. I just couldn’t help myself,” he confesses in between chuckles. Hands reach for you, manoeuvring you with expert skill and wondrous strength onto his lap. From here, he massages your shoulders instead, thumb rubbing out the tension in your shoulder blades. “Instead of this show, why don’t we lay down some towels on the bed and have a full body massage, hmm? I’ll get the candles — the ones you like. How does that sound, darling?”

Your husband isn’t just sexy; he’s a sweet-talker. “Won’t you be tired from all this massaging? I think I should be massaging you, if anything.”

With your hand in his, he lifts it and lays a gentle kiss on the cold band on your finger. Sincerity lacing every word, he promises, “Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy. So be a good wife and let me spoil you.”

Sukuna -  Likes enabling you

“And then she shoved me! She actually shoved me. Can you believe that?”

The King hums, fingers playing with a lock of your hair. 

“She’s got an ugly soul, Kuna. Mark my words. That woman is gonna end up in the bad place and even the devil will turn his nose up at her.”

You’re in the garden, head laid on his lap as you both lounge on a wooden bench he had built for you after you complained about needing a place to sit. For, what seems to be, hours now, you’ve been complaining about some girl you know. 

“Like, who does she think she is? Seriously. She’s deranged.” It’s petty drama, you know that, and so does he, but the anger in your face and in your movements suggests otherwise. But even though you’re making a fuss over practically nothing, he doesn’t interrupt. “I should totally throw her over a building.”

“You should.”

“Yeah and then sh— what?”

Disbelief sparkling in your eyes, you question him silently. He shrugs, lightly tugging your hair and says, “You should throw that wench out of a building. Throw her out of a window on our estate, if it pleases you.”

You forgot who you’re speaking to; you should have known better than to assume he’d say something remotely normal. One could even say he’s joking, but you know he’s not. Nothing about the bloodlust swirling in those compelling eyes could ever be taken as a joke. 

Sighing, your animated arms fall onto your torso. “No, Sukuna. I can’t just do that. Don’t be silly. Sure, she was horrible, but she’s not that bad. Maybe she was having a terrible day.”

“Be that as it may, I think it would do you wonders to alleviate your anger the way I do: with revenge of the most violent kind. You need not defenestrate her. You can stab her till the light leaves her eyes or you can operate a vehicle that will trample all over her — oh, that is a good one; you can really feel the crunching of bones.”

Sitting up, you peck him on his cheek, smiling at his bewildered expression. “You’re insane but so cute, y’know?”

He frowns. 

“I am not insane.”

[seaweef]

SO , SO NOISY !!

synopis. he just wont shut up, wont he? i guess we'll have to fix this issue...

feat. choso, nanami, gojo

cw. smut, fem!reader, riding, gagging, sex in potentially public areas ( reader is afraid they might get caught ), satoru being a bitch

weefnote. i have NOT reviewed for my test but writing this instead of studying was so worth it ALSO PLEASE REBLOG + COMMENT I LOVE LIKES BUT REBLOGS AND COMMENTS HAVE MY HEART

# — CHOSO

"o-oh, ngh, fuck..." choso whimpers, his nails digging crescents into your hips, mesmerized by how his cock gets swallowed whole by that pretty pussy of yours as you snap down on him. "s-so good, haah,"

"choso, shh, we'll get caught..." you drawl while dragging a finger down his handsome button nose, watching as he scrunches his face up at the ticklish feather light touch, in contrast to the hypnotic smack of your hips against his. your words fall upon deaf ears, he makes that clear when you press that finger against his glossy, parted lips in an attempt to shush him, but to no avail.

sighing, you halt your movement. he stammers, and you get a good look of those soft eyes and the tears hanging from his dark lashes. "baby, w-why'd you stop?" he sounds so upset, it makes you giggle into your fist. just as he's about to start whining again, you shove the same pair of lace panties you had been wearing earlier into his mouth. "mgh-!?"

you feel his cock twitch inside you while you smile as if youre innocent. "better."

he lets out a broken moan into the fabric as you slam yourself back on his cock. the sight was heavenly, drool spilling out from the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll back.

yeah, you should definitely do that more often.

# — NANAMI

kento is often quiet during sex, a few occasional groans here and there. but today...

"oh, sweetheart," hes throwing his head back, his once neat hair all disheveled and his eyelids heavy. hes like an animal, ramming into you with no restraints whatsoever as youre scrambling to find something to grab on, fingernails scratching desperately at the wood of his desk. papers fly everywhere, but thats a problem for later. "hngh, k-ken'! t-they'll, ooh, hear us!"

"why? dont want them to- shit, dont want them to hear how good your husband's fucking you?"

"i-its not thahaat, but- keeen!"

"fuck..." he looks down at the sight, the creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock, and he hisses. hes well aware how noisy he must be, so one hand leaves your arched back, pulling his tie to bite on it.

you look back, pussy tightening at what you see, and he all but moans.

"l-love you, love you so much," his voice is muffled, but you bury your face into the crook of your elbow while sniffling. "i- hah- love you too,"

and all hell breaks loose.

# — GOJO

"yeaaah, let me use this sexy cunt," satoru drawls out his words annoyingly, annoyingly enough that you register it through how deep he was in you right now.

"shut the fuck up, you're s-ah, so noisy," you seethe. hes always like this when in charge, and he clearly enjoy the power he holds at times like these, when hes on top of you, hands on the back of your knees and folding you back.

he laughs, licking his lips afterwards. "yeah?" and his face is suddenly so close to yours. "whatcha gonna do if i dont? make me, sweetie."

you (try to) roll your eyes at the challenge, a shaky hand extending to grab at his hair, and the other hand-

"whatre you-?"

you push two fingers into his mouth, pressing them against his tongue. for a moment hes hesitant, but then his blue eyes crinkle at the sides, and he swirls his tongue around your fingertips.

"fhuuck," you mewl, his stupid handsome face somehow getting you even wetter and tighter than you already were, his cock throbbing.

when you take your fingers out of his mouth, a string of salive connects them to his lips, and he grins. "wow, that was hot."

before you can even reply, he pulls your own hand towards your neglected clit and guides you to rub yourself with the same fingers that were in his mouth earlier.

as you moan, he flashes a smug smile. "whos the noisy one now?"

[meganegatari]

i was busy having a mental breakdown only i saw this art and just about creamed my pj pantaloons so i needed to do something about that!!!!! cait i love you my beautiful princess with a couple disorders but that should be me RAHHH hi vi nation i have something for yall (also written in like 2 seconds be nice)

nsfw drabble—overstimming vi. 18+ content. sub!vi, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, brief mention of masturbation, vi body hair mention (you already KNOWWW) + aftercare.

orgasms climbing high into the double digits—yet you still weren't done with her. actually far from it, you felt like pushing her buttons, both literally and figuratively.

vi is spent, so limp and exhausted laying next to you, powdery blues begging for your mercy. but you didn't falter. you sat on your knees to the fiery haired woman's side, your fingers—coated with her slick from previous rounds—prancing upon her defined abs. you traced from under her ribcage, to each individual muscle on her torso, down to the wispy strands of magenta hair of her happy trail increasing in thickness until you reached the vermillion tangle resting on her mound, but before you could part her swollen lips once more, you heard her wince from above.

“fuck babe— s'too much, im- hahh, i dunno how much more…” she trails off, her whiny voice music to your ears, the sweetest candy to your sadistic soul.

her eyelids fluttered open while her chest heaved and head lolled against the pillow underneath—strings of hair stuck to her forehead. her face was shiny, with sweat or even tears, it made her shimmer. the apples of her cheeks were as crimson as prime picking season, a stark contrast from the vulgar mess between her trembling thighs.

her hips twitch—the smallest jerk upward—paired with a woeful plea from her clenched jaw, she needed you again. enough time had passed, and you were ready to give her everything you had.

“one more?” you quip at her, honeyed voice deepening her blush.

with that, she manages a brisk nod.

and like so, that was your cue to resume your descent.

you watch her like a hawk, grazing her skin with an agonizing feather-light touch, revel in how her breathing visibly quickens—gods this sexual intimacy was otherworldly.

tattooed biceps rise to shield her face, arms crossing and settling atop her eyes, but you still had a good view.

your stare unmoving, you skip down to tease her inner thighs, kneading the flesh lovingly—playing with the webs of essence that decorated her.

a whine fills the air, she was growing impatient.

you comply, finally moving your hand up to where she needs you most, you part her and break your line of sight away from her face to marvel at how she sucks your middle two digits in, her back arching.

she lets out a breathy moan—an unguarded sound that makes your own core ache, and you find her thumping clit and press on the bud with your thumb.

you see her mouth fall open, her shallow heaves quickly turning into animalistic pants, the release was bubbling inside her already.

you begin to circle her bundle of nerves gently, your two digits simultaneously pumping in and out of her quivering walls—her sounds only growing more and more lewd. this was pornographic, but the way she didn't hold back flipped a switch inside you.

you press down harder, then flick her swollen clit up and down until she jolts, your assault on her g-spot inside causing spurts of pearlescent cum to land on your hard at work forearm.

you were so mesmerized, so focused, you could even call it entranced by her. you had to fight the urge to shove your free hand down your own undergarments and soothe the build up there but you resisted, this was about her.

her whimpers and groans came in time with your rhythmic, regular thrusts, you felt her pussy spasming as another orgasm rushed through her, overtaking her entirely.

the sight, the syrupy squelching sounds and the smell of her sex drove you insane.

you continue to fuck her all the way through the high, until her eyes were welling up with tears and her knuckles lost their color from how hard she was gripping at everything around her—her hair, the sheets, you.

when it got too much, she squirmed away from you instinctively, and you obeyed to not hurt her. you'd never do so.

“you're so fucking hot vi, fuck—the things you do to me…” you mutter under your breath, taking in the sight of her fucked out form. she really was ethereal.

you put your fingers in your mouth to clean up, sighing at her sweetness.

she continued to lay there before you, only this time with a faint smile on her pretty lips.

her eyes were closed, and she looked so peaceful. before she fell asleep you dashed to get a damp washcloth and very gingerly wiped up the remnants of her pleasure from her creamy skin, grinning all the while.

when you were done, you tossed it to the side and joined her horizontally, nuzzling into her embrace.

deciding to make a joke, you try, “what do you say, one more?”

luckily you're met with a belly laugh from your love, and a playful shove to your shoulder.

“not a chance. next time it's your turn, i'll make you cum until you cry.”

taglist: @vifilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @ellabbss @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @imdrowningindespair @spncrrdlvr @cheyisagirlkisser @thatgyalfisher @eroselless @i-dont-know-00 @ithinkimfuckincrazy @liaponderstings @lesbian-useless @slutzandcuckz @finalgirllx

[januaryembrs]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 

-

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

--

[mariasont]

hi bby, i also have another idea! <3

it’s a song inspired fic with spencer or hotch and bimbo!reader and how they are in the office when they first get together and maybe some moments before they do!!

the song i was thinking of is birds of a feather by billie eilish and you can choose either hotch or spence bcuz i can’t decide, lol

anyway ily and i’m so glad you’re doing better and it’s so lovely to see you here again!! <33

BIRDS OF A FEATHER - S.R

a/n: i just need you to know you are literally the backbone of my fics i swear!!! ur requests are always my favorite <3 but anyway ilysm and i'm so happy to be and so happy to fufill your request, i hope you like it!! :)

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: clingy!reader, dramatic gf calm bf best duo, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, idiots in love

wc: 1k

You'd lost count of how many times you'd checked the clock. Five days without Spencer felt like an eternity. You weren't sure how people survived long-distance relationships. 

You’d tried everything to distract yourself. A true crime documentary had seemed like a good idea, something to make you feel like Spencer was still close, in that nerdy, FBI way of his, but it turned out to be too scary (and okay, a little boring). You’d spent most of it hiding behind a pillow, silently debating whether the narrator’s voice was creepy or just British.

All you could do was scroll on your phone and pout at the clock, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you'd somehow willed time to speed up since the last time you looked. Spoiler, you hadn't.

By the time you heard the jingle of keys outside the door, you were practically vibrating with excitement. You shot off the couch so fast you nearly tripped on the blanket you'd be wrapped in all night. 

The lock clicked, and there he was, Spencer, with tired eyes and messy hair, his satchel hanging limply off one shoulder like it weighed more than he did. He looked exhausted but perfect, the way only Spencer could.

"Spence!" you squealed, launching yourself at him before he could even get through the doorway.

"Hi," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. He smelled faintly of coffee and something antiseptic, but underneath it all was that comforting, familiar scent that was just him.

"I missed you, too."

You buried your face in his chest for a moment, breathing him in like you could bottle the feeling and save it for later. Then, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, you gripped his jacket tightly.

“You better have. I’ve been losing my mind waiting for you.”

Spencer’s lips twitched into a tired smile. “Losing your mind? Sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

"Definitely," you said, nodding earnestly. "I've been so bored, Spence. I started talking to myself, like, full on conversations. And I'm not as smart as you, so they weren't even good conversations."

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your hip. “I’m sure they were better than you think.”

You stepped back and began tugging his jacket off, shooing him toward the couch. He followed without a word of protest, letting you fuss over him.

“You look so tired, baby,” you said, plucking his satchel off the floor and setting it aside. “Did you eat? You better have. I should’ve made something, but I didn’t know when you’d get here, and I got distracted, and—”

Spencer's hand caught yours, making your mouth snap shut. His fingers were warm, and the way they curled around yours was enough to make your brain go fuzzy for a second. 

"I'm fine. Really."

“You don’t look fine,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him. “You look all…” You waved vaguely at his face. “Work-y.”

“Work-y,” he echoed, his lips twitching into a small, tired smile.

“Exactly,” you said, nodding as you plopped down beside him and immediately curled into his side. Your arms looped around him, holding him tightly, as though he might vanish if you let go.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch. 

“You’re very clingy tonight,” he teased, though the way his arm came up to pull you closer told you he didn’t mind.

“Obviously,” you replied, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in forever. I missed your face. And your hair. And your nerdy little brain. Especially your nerdy little brain.”

He laughed quietly. “My brain missed you, too.”

“Good,” you said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere for at least... three days. Maybe four. You’ll just have to solve crimes from here.”

Spencer hummed, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “I’m not sure the FBI would agree to that.”

“Then they’ll have to fight me for you,” you said with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms. “Honestly, I could probably take Hotch in a fight. He doesn’t look like he’s had a good night’s sleep since, like, 1999. One shove, and he’s done for.”

Spencer laughed, his chest shaking against yours. “You’d shove Hotch? I think that’s a violation of multiple workplace policies.”

You grinned, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’d be worth it. You’re way more important than some dumb policies.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in love with you,” you said, your grin widening as you leaned forward to nudge his nose with yours. “Now, scoot over. I’m not comfy enough.”

Before he could ask what you meant, you were already moving, shifting to climb into his lap with zero hesitation. Spencer blinked in surprise, but his hands instinctively came up to steady you, one resting on your waist while the other settled on your thigh.

“You could’ve warned me,” he murmured, though his lips quirked into a small smile as you tucked yourself against him like a human blanket.

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your forehead against his. “Besides, I missed you too much to sit all the way over there.”

Spencer let out a soft, breathy laugh, his nose brushing yours as he adjusted to your weight. “You don’t think this is a little excessive?”

“Excessive? No. Necessary? Yes.” You kissed the tip of his nose, grinning when his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “You’re my boyfriend, Spencie. This is part of the job description.”

He shook his head, but the way his arms tightened around you gave him away.

“Love you,” you said in a sigh, nuzzling closer to him.

“I love you too, angel,” he said. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I love you more than I can put into words.”

Spencer let out a long breath, his head resting back against the couch as his hands stayed comfortably on your waist. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” you teased, though you didn’t move an inch from where you were nestled against him.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low and a little gravelly.

“Good,” you whispered, your cheek pressed to his. “That means you’re staying right here.”

He didn’t answer, but the way his arms tightened around you was more than enough.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @cool-light32 @reidfile @i-live-in-spite @sugarbutterbailey @aecd27 @persephonestears @moonyxstars @xxmooxmooxx @spookyysinsanity @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @jungchloee @she-wont-miss

join my taglist here!

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird in the building is worth to in the car. Or something. Part 23

yes, I do have too much fun with these part titles masterpost

The efficiency that Danny and the kids were ushered, privately and securely, into the parking garage and the waiting car with was impressive. Bruce gave the order and then in a breath they were at the car. Unable to fight the instinct, Danny had kept his wings around the boys the whole way, as if he could protect them from the world.

Even in the car Danny still wanted to protectively drape his wings around them. He was grateful when both boys let him. He was grateful that Mr. Pennyworth didn’t comment on the wings at all. He just wished Bruce had gone with them.

It was completely understandable for Bruce to have to check on the situation and the people who had been in the building before leaving, but it left Danny feeling on edge. It would be better once Bruce was back in the car, and Danny knew that everyone here was safe. If it had been possible, he would have preferred to wait in the safe room. With the incoming cops that hadn’t been wise.

What felt like too long later, Danny watched Bruce walk towards the car through the tinted windows, flanked by very alert security. The door opening and closing felt very final. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t exactly been holding, but had still felt clogged up in his chest.

Bruce leaned across the center console and part way into the back seat. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said where he was just barely leaning into Danny’s side and cradled by a wing.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But, B, he was following me. He said he saw me going into the building. He called me a dormouse. I didn’t… I didn’t even notice him until he came into the building.”

Danny carded talons through Tim’s hair, hoping to calm himself as much as Tim or else he might go back and show the Mad Hatter how terrifying he could really get.

Bruce didn’t look any more pleased at that. “We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass along the information too. We’ll have to put some security on you for a bit in case he has others under control who are still after you.”

Tim frowned at that and Danny couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to Tim’s hair, as presumptuous as the act was. “Let us protect you, hummingbird.”

Tim looked up at him. “Hummingbird?”

Danny just gave a little shrug. It seemed to fit. He didn’t think too much about it. It fit in the same way as being able to wrap his wings around them and the need to protect them.

“And what about you?” Bruce asked.

Danny glanced at the other man, tilting his head quizzically.

“Are you alright?” Bruce clarified.

“He was not before the event,” Damian jumped in quickly. “He was obviously fatigued and suffering from either a headache or over stimulation from the noise.”

“Or both,” Tim added. “We thought he might be leaving to go home.”

“I was just leaving to get lunch,” Danny sighed, even though they weren’t wrong about the rest.

Bruce frowned and held his hand out, which Danny just blinked at.

“Hand, Danny,” Bruce explained. “I want to check your pulse.”

Danny froze. He was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that his hand was still tipped in talon and small feathers. He snatched his hand out of Tim’s hair, worried now that his hand alone had been too much, as distorted as it was. He crossed his arms, hiding his hands against his body.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t pull his hand back. Instead his whole face softened in a sad way that confused Danny.

“We aren’t afraid of you, Danny,” Bruce said. His voice was a comforting low rumble that Danny wanted desperately to trust. “You’ve been nothing but kind to my family and today you kept them safe. The physical changes you went through to do that do not scare me.”

Danny glanced down and away, trying to avoid looking at any of them in the tight space of the car. “They scare me.”

Damian clicked his tongue and leaned further into Danny’s side, further in under the wing. Tim reached for a hand. Not wanting to accidentally hurt Tim with the sharp talons, Danny reluctantly let him take it. Tim wrapped his own fingers confidently around Danny’s.

Bruce still waited with his hand out.

Danny chewed on his lip, an old nervous tick. Bruce waited. The boys stayed close. Finally, Danny let out a huff of air and offered his hand up to Bruce.

“Your pulse is a bit erratic,” Bruce said after he had counted Danny’s pulse along to the ticking of his watch. He didn’t let go of Danny’s hand after it, instead he ran his thumb against Danny’s wrist. The touch almost made Danny shiver in a good way.

“I, ah, adrenalin crash, I figure,” Danny said once he could find his words.

“Are you alright returning to the Manor so that we can keep an eye on you?”

“Oh I get asked this time?” Danny teased. Teasing was easier.

Bruce just chuckled. “Well you are awake.”

“I… yes,” Danny answered. It was less about him being looked after and more so that he could look after the boys. If he went home now, he’d worry all night.

Mr. Pennyworth finally started the car. “Will you be needing medication or any such health items from your apartment, sir?”

Danny shook his head. “I keep some extra doses in my bag. And really, just Danny is alright.”

“Then to home, Master Danny.”

Danny tried not to miss the touch as Bruce pulled away and buckled in for the drive.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Sensitivity✨

I am an absolute SLUT for Luci’s wings so I wanted to write something with them :), huge thank you to @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis for the help 💖

Also I’m legit on a cruise ship rn, but @amberlouise473 knows I gotta feed y’all like I’m tossing corn to my chickens 🤣

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You’re super curious about Lucifer’s wings, but neither of you knew how sensitive they were. You didn’t know how sensitive you could be either…

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, ruined clothes, pet names, oral (f receiving), face riding, over stimulation, multiple orgasms

It was time for bed and Lucifer was still working. You knew he worked late sometimes but this seemed a little later than usual. You decided to take a look to see if he was still in his office. Sure enough, you saw him sitting down at his desk when you entered the room. But when you looked closer, you saw that he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting in his arms. He looked so peaceful lying there, you almost didn’t want to disturb him. But you knew he’d feel a lot better if he actually slept in your bed instead of hunched over his desk. Quietly, you walked towards him trying not to make any loud noises that might startle him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly.

“Luci?,” you whispered, “Luci, it’s time for bed, wake up sleepy head.” He moaned quietly, but your shaking didn’t seem to have done the trick. You shook his shoulder a little hard. “Luci, c’mon hon.” Nothing. You took your other hand and placed it on his other shoulder, shaking him even more. “Lucifer!,” you nearly screamed!

With that, Lucifer’s eyes shot open, pushing himself off the desk. “AAHHH!!! WHAT?!?! What’s going on?!,” he yelled. You never saw him so frazzled before, it was kind of cute. But what you really didn’t expect was to see Lucifer’s wings spring out from his back. It must have been an involuntary reaction from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His eyes found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you, darling,” he breathed. “You really scared me there! I guess I must have fallen asleep, forgive me.” You were only half listening to him at this moment, your gaze was still fixed on his angelic wings. You’d only seen them once or twice before, but never for long. It was then that Lucifer turned his head and noticed what had caught your attention. “Oh! Sorry about that, it’s a defense mechanism, as silly as that sounds. I’ll put them away-”

“No, wait!”, you shouted louder than you meant to. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding why you had stopped him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…I never get to see your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

A light blush dashed across his face, he gave you a shy smile. “O-oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s a shame,” you pouted, “I think they’re incredible.” You walked closer to him to get a better look at them. Their white and red coloring were breathtaking. Their length took up almost the entirety of the room you were in, and his office was not small in the least. A tiny part of you wondered if he always had red feathers, or if they had changed after he…

Perhaps that was a question for another time.

“Are they heavy?,” you inquired.

“Oh! Umm, I don’t think so,” Lucifer pondered. “I don’t really notice if they are. I might have gotten used to them over the last 10,000 or so years.”

“Can I…touch them?,” you asked shyly, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

He smiled. “Of course, love. Let’s go back to our room, shall we?”

Lucifer’s wings disappeared for now as he gently grabbed your hand and led you out of his office. Once you reached your bedroom, he unfastened his shirt and threw it off to the side. It made you blush, even though his bare chest was not a new sight to you. Lucifer noticed your reddened face and smirked.

“It’s a little easier this way, don’t you think?,” he chuckled. He walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs in the process. He tapped his thigh, offering you a seat in his lap. You smiled and wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling him. “You ready?,” he asked with a little smile. You nodded your head eagerly. In an instant, his three sets wings appeared again. You noticed something was a little different though.

“I could have sworn they were bigger,” you puzzled.

“No, you’re right, they were,” Lucifer laughed. “I can control how large or small they need to be. They might have broken something in here if they were any bigger!”

You chuckled lightly. They were even more breathtaking up close, his scarlet feathers glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. You stuck out your hands and touched the top of his first set of wings. Unexpectedly, Lucifer inhaled sharply from your touch, screwing his eyes shut. You pulled away instantly.

“Oh no!,” you gasped. “Did I hurt you? I swear I barely touched them! I’m sorry!”

Lucifer exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “No, no, it’s alright, love,” he cooed, “it wasn’t painful. I just didn’t expect the sensation. Let’s just say they’re…more sensitive than I originally thought.” It was only then you felt a bump forming between your legs.

Oh…OH!

You quickly caught on to what he was referring to. And having you straddle his lap probably wasn’t helping. A small smirk crept across your face. You couldn’t resist the urge to make him squirm from your touch; the thought excited you.

“Well, in that case…” you smiled slyly, reaching out for his wings once more. This time, you gave them a slightly firmer grip than before. Lucifer nearly yelped from your touch and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hands up and down the tops of his wings, almost massaging them in a way. Lucifer was unable to hold back his moans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he panted.

You loved the sight of him bending so easily to your simple touches. You wondered if you could break him. You began to shift your hips in his lap, grinding on the now very apparent bulge in his pants. Lucifer nearly sobbed as you ground your hips against him. You moved your hands down to his second set of wings to give them some attention. You could tell he was unraveling quickly.

“D-Dear,” he choked out, “i-if you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna…f-fuck…”

His plea only made you grind against him at a faster pace while continuing to stroke his sensitive wings. At this point he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, only broken moans and gutural sounds left his lips. You moved your hands down to his smallest set of his wings, pinching them between your fingers.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK,” Lucifer cried out as your movements finally pushed him over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, completely ruining in pants. Once he came down from his high, he looked into your eyes, almost distraught.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t think that…I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His wings disappeared from sight as he buried his head into you chest

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you told him as you lifted his head up to plant a tender kiss to his lips. The small tears that had formed in his eyes fell down the side of his face, but you wiped them away with your thumbs. “Luci, please don’t apologize,” you soothed. “You never have to feel sorry for that! Did you feel good?”

Lucifer steadied his breathing, trying his best to calm down. “Yes, love, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the mattress while he stood up, discarding the rest of his now filthy clothes. “But I absolutely refuse to be the only one being pleasured tonight.”

Without warning, Lucifer leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, filing your mouth with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, feeling as though you might be devoured by him. Lucifer tugged at the hem of your pajama pants, asking permission to remove them. “Mhmm,” was all you could mumble. In one swift motion, your pants had vanished and all you felt was the cool air on your legs. Lucifer brought down his fingers to your folds, loving the feeling of how wet you were for him. He captured your moan on his lips, but suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving you to whine in protest.

Lucifer broke your kiss and brought his soaked finger to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. “Mmm, you always taste so delectable, darling,” he marveled. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, he knew just what buttons to press when it came to you. He crawled back up on the bed and laid flat on his back, his head propped up by the pillows. “Come have a seat, sweetheart,” he teased as he pointed to his coy smiling face.

Your face became extreme hot as you crawled towards the demon king. You made your way on top of him and came to a halt when your dripping cunt hovered right above Lucifer’s eager smile.

“A meal fit for a king, truly,” he laughed as he dug his face into your aching pussy. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue worked his magic along your slit. He devoured you, making sure every inch of you was consumed. His lips found your clit and started to kiss and suck at it. He’d only just started and you were ready to snap.

“O-Oh my God, Lucifer, shhhiiittt, I’m so close…s-s-so close…,” you whined.

“God can’t hear you down here, angel,” he teased you before continuing to lap at your folds. He made quick work of you, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“Fuuuuccckkkk, imcummingIMCUMMIMG,” you screamed as you finally felt your walls clench and spasm around nothing. Lucifer happily swallowed your juices as your orgasm started to recede. You tried to lift yourself up off Lucifer’s face, but he kept a firm grip on your legs.

“I’m not done with you, love,” he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, golden shackles formed around your ankles, the chain hooked underneath Lucifer’s back. A twisted look of fear and passion flashed across your face. You were trapped.

“L-Luci…what are you-” you tried to asked but were cut off by another long lick up your sensitive cunt. A gutural moan escaped your mouth, you still hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm.

“I thought it would only be fair to ruin you, since you ruined my clothes,” he chastised playfully. “But if at any time it becomes too much for you, tell me and I’ll let you go immediately, okay?”

“Al-Alright,” you stuttered, trembling from the anticipation.

Lucifer hummed against your lower lips. “I’ll make this a little easier for you, sweetheart.” You saw Lucifer’s form start to change beneath you. His horns had erupted from his head while his eyes shifted to a deep red and gold color with onyx irises. “Something for you to hold onto,” he murmured sensually.

Tentatively, you took hold of his horns and braced yourself for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tongue attacking your cunt once more. The grip you had on his horns could have torn your skin clean off with how tight you were holding them while he nipped and sucked your overstimulated clit. Before you knew it, your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Then your third, your fourth, your cunt was getting absolutely abused by Lucifer who hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down since he started. After your fifth orgasm washed over you, your legs had given out from under you, completely collapsing on top of Lucifer.

“No more…,” you begged. “No more, please…”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the shackles around your ankles disappeared in an instant. You conjured up the remainder of your strength to push yourself off him and roll over onto your side, an absolutely breathless mess. You could hardly keep your eyes open. You could feel yourself losing consciousness until Lucifer pulled you flush to his chest.

“You did so well, my dear,” he murmured against your ear. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep…” was all you could muster. Lucifer chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

“Goodnight, love,” you heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. It was the best sleep you ever had.

~~~~

“I just think they’re neat!” - Me w/ Lucifer’s wings also Lucifer inventend pussy eating, this is fact, ALSO also something something handlebar horns

[loveanddeepdick]

cw: piv sex at the end, sylus is a bit rough hehe

sylus who (surprisingly to most people) is the most respectful out of the l&ds men.

sylus who holds every car door for you, leaves you a different array of flowers every week, makes sure you never use your own card, and opens every door for you. he has his large, scarred hand on your lower back at all times so he can assure you're by his side.

"focus on staying with me, sweetie. i don't want you getting lost somewhere you're not familiar with"

"sylus, i can handle myself!"

"i know you can. but as your man, i can't have you doing all the work alone, can i?"

sylus who loves teasing you. when you two are sitting anywhere near each other, he'll have his hand on your thigh. if he's sure that no one can see his girl, he'll trail his hand dangerously close to your crotch, grazing the top of your pussy, even dipping down a bit to give a small feather touch to your clit before returning back to the place above your thigh.

sylus who buys you any item you lay your eyes on. a new weapon, a new purse, new shoes, new clothes, they'll be at your doorstep in no time. after a while, you stopped telling him things you like since you started feeling guilty for spending so much.

he wouldn't have any of that. he sent luke and kieran to spy on you, finding out your password in only a day. he wasn't going to snoop through your messages, no. he had the utmost faith in you. instead, he would go through every shopping app you had and every website store you visited, clearing out every cart so it'd be empty and even spending extra on express shipping so it'd arrive as soon as possible.

sylus who tries to stay as respectful as possible when he finds that you've been shopping for adult toys. he knows you'd never buy it but he loves the sheer look on your face when he hands you the box.

"sy.. what is this?", your face goes ghostly pale as you recognize the logo on the box

"oh? trying to play innocent?"

sylus who's respect is forced out the window as he has you bent over his lap, fucking you with the dildo you'd personally shopped for.

"sy-sylus, please, i want your c-cock!", you cry out before he abruptly pulls the dildo from your pussy, leaving the tip in to tease you as he subtly shifts it in and out.

“oh? you want my cock? thought you wanted to play with some measly toys, sweetie”

“n-no, sylus,” you sobbed from the lack of stimulation, “‘need you so bad..”

“how bad?”, sylus smirked and you could swear that you could feel it burning in the back of your brain.

“really bad, sy. i need you in my pussy—“

you couldn’t even finish your thoughts before you were manhandled onto the bed. your ass was thrown up before he landed a sharp spank with his gloved hand.

“you wanna be fucked with this cock, baby?”, sylus grunted before the sound of a zipper could be heard.

“yes, please, sylus!”

“fuck.. take it—take it”.

sylus thrusted his erect cock roughly into your pussy, holding you in place as you squirmed from his girth.

“you trying to run away after i finally give you my dick?”

“n-no, sylus!”

“that’s not my name, sweetie”, sylus grinned before giving you another spank.

“please, please, fuck me with your cock, sir”

he groaned at the sound, grabbing your hips before he started ramming into you again.

sylus is respectful in every way. except for when he’s jealous of a dildo..

[prythianpages]

'Cause It Was Always You | Azriel x Reader

summary: After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

word count: 1,741

warnings: I guess angst at the beginning? But I promise it ends with fluff!

a/n: Billie Eilish's Birds of a Feather has been on repeat in my head and it prompted this cute little idea. Also shoutout to @nocasdatsgay for helping me with a codename for Az.

“I fear I’ll love Lapis until the day that I die…until the light leaves my eyes…until I’m in the grave, rotting awa–”

“y/n, you’re drunk,” Feyre had giggled.

“Drunk in love,” you sang in response with a giggle of your own.

And when one of Azriel’s shadows reported the silly little smile on your face, the silly little sparkle in your eyes, he shrunk back into the ones that had remained. His heart sank to his stomach, a cold, heavy weight settling there. 

Because you were in love. 

With someone that wasn’t him.

Azriel told himself that was the last time he’d eavesdrop. And perhaps, that wouldn’t have been a lie, if it wasn’t for the pesky little shadow that followed you around. It enjoyed dancing and flitting around you. Sometimes, it’d make its presence known by weaving through your hair or slithering up your arm. Most times, it’d trail behind you, like a little duckling.

Azriel tried to call the shadow back home but it was unwavering, choosing to linger in your presence instead. The same way he wished to linger by your side. And recently, the inky traitor had gotten into the habit of summoning more of his shadows to your side, weaving an invisible bond between you and him.

Every time a shadow returned to him, it brought whispers of your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, and the softness in your voice when you spoke of Lapis. Each word you uttered about that male tore him apart, every confession cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

“If you don’t ask Lapis out, Jasper will do it for you and believe me when I say you do not want that to happen.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll ask him out. Tomorrow.”

That was a snippet of a conversation his shadows had reported to him earlier, cutting his morning training short. It lingered with him, haunting him throughout the day. And now, he found himself unable to sleep, constantly turning in his bed.

Azriel’s stomach twists into a tight knot, the storm raging outside echoing his inner turmoil. Tomorrow. He was running out of time.  Fear and perhaps, even pride, kept him from telling you how he truly felt about you. But now, he found himself fearing something even worse. Losing you before he even had a chance to say it…

He didn’t want to wake up one day and regret his silence, regret not telling you how he felt because of pride or fear. He needed to do this for himself, to break free from the shadows of his past. He had failed to confess his love twice before, and the thought of a third failure was unbearable. This time, he couldn’t let fear hold him back. The risk of losing you to someone else was a pain he couldn't endure.

With a deep breath, Azriel steeled himself. He needed to find you, to tell you the truth about his feelings. Before anything between you and Lapis could blossom. He couldn’t let another moment pass without you knowing how deeply he loved you.

Which is how he found himself at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, clothes sticking to him like a second skin as the rain pours relentlessly down on him. His shadows stir in excitement, whispering anxiously as they hear your approaching footsteps. His heart is pounding, so fast and hard that he fears it’s going to explode.

“Azriel?” 

Your voice is still marred by sleep as you blink up at him. That traitorous shadow hovers behind you, peering at him over your shoulder. He glares at it, and it quickly hides behind your hair. You don’t seem to notice it, either unfazed or truly oblivious to the shadow that had been following you around for so long.

“Did something happen?” You speak again, brows furrowing in concern. You step back into your apartment, a silent gesture for him to follow after you and come inside. 

“I–” Azriel begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He can’t even bring himself to move as his eyes catch the movement of your arms wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill of the downpour. The nightgown you’re wearing is thin and short. A  glimpse of your exposed skin has a warmth rushing to his face and he’s blushing.

"I—" He tries again but when his eyes meet yours, his heart leaps into his throat, choking off his words. Oh gods, he can’t do this. He’s grateful for the rain as it masks the tears beginning to sting at his eyes. He thinks he’s going to be sick and–

“Are you okay?”

His shadows push him forward, wings shuddering in response. It’s now or never. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you.” 

The words spill out in a rush, raw and unguarded. He watches you with bated breath, his shadows whispering every nuance in your expression—from the way your eyebrows raise and your mouth parts as a gasp escapes, to the way your eyes glisten with something he’s too scared to discern.

You’re rendered speechless, the silence that follows feeling like an eternity. Azriel’s wings slump, growing heavy. He clears his throat, averting his gaze. The need to retreat is overpowering what little courage he had gathered moments ago. 

“That’s all I had to say. I should, um–I’ll be leaving now,” he stammers, so unsure and so unlike himself.

“Az–” you start, reaching out to him, but he’s already stepping back into the rain. He doesn’t think he can face your rejection, much less witness the look on your face if you don’t feel the same.

“Goodnight.”

His shadows are like a wall of resistance, fighting against him as he turns to make his leave. He asks them—begs them, even– to swallow him whole. To winnow him away and save him from further mortification. But they refuse. Stay, they insist, tugging and weighing his wings down. 

It leaves him with no choice but to walk away. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rain soaking him to the bone. Listen, his shadows urge as they continue to tug relentlessly at his wings for him to turn back around and face you. 

But he can’t. Not when the Mother has seemed to have cursed him with loving those who could never love him back.

“Azriel!”

His mind screams at him to keep going, to keep walking away. However, the plea echoed in your voice has his chest tightening. His heart overrides his mind, shadows only encouraging him further. He turns around just in time to catch you as you leap into his arms.

Your legs wrap around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a desperate effort to keep him from leaving. His own arms respond immediately, securing you to him. 

“Don’t go.”

Your breath is warm against his neck as you tighten your embrace, and his wings curl around your smaller form in response, wanting to shield you from the relentless rain. He feels you shift in his arms, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. One hand reaches out, tenderly brushing the dark fringe from his forehead. His breath catches, and you must sense his inner turmoil because you gently smooth away the furrow of his brow with your thumb.

“I love you,” you say, your hand caressing his cheek. Despite the cold, harsh downpour, your touch is warm and soft. A balm to his frayed nerves.

His heart swells with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. He had prepared himself for rejection, for the familiar sting of unrequited love. But here you were, confessing your love to him with the same vulnerability he had shown you.

“Really?” he whispers, voice thick with emotion, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Really.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with relief. “I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you.”

“Lose me? Azriel, you’ve always had me.”

“But you said you loved Lapis? You were going to ask him out–”

“So you were spying on me!”

Azriel’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing all over again and he’s glad it’s dark enough to conceal it. “No–I–not intentionally…my shadows, they…,” he trails off, realizing how ridiculous he must sound.

Yes, his shadow refused to come back to him. But he didn’t stop the others from reporting back to him so with a defeated sigh, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Azriel,” you giggle and he’s frowning at you, not finding the humor in the situation. “You are Lapis.”

“What?”

“You’re Lapis. Cas is Jasper and Rhys is Amethyst.” You explain, lips curling into an amused smile at the sigh of relief that comes from Azriel. How had he not realized that all those names shared one thing in common? And more importantly, that they were color coded to his and Cassian’s siphons?

“I needed a codename for you so I can gush about my feelings for you without, you know,” you tilt your head toward that nosey, barely visible shadow that had been following you around. Sensing the attention, the shadow dips and hides again, curling around the back of your neck. 

“I fear it’s yours now,” Azriel replies, almost sheepishly.

“Good,” you smile at him. “I’ve grown rather fond of it. Just as I have over its master.”

His shadows take your words as a welcome invitation, swirling and dancing around you both. Azriel’s arms hook underneath your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. Your arms find their place around his neck again.

Then, you're closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Warmth spreads throughout him, reveling in the sweet sensation of your lips against his. The rain continues to pour, but neither of you care. 

When you finally pull away, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as if in fear that this is all just a dream. You gently kiss his nose, your soft voice reminding him that this moment is real.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes open, looking right into yours. “Until the day that I die,” he tells you, echoing your devotion.

There’s a knowing spark in your eyes as they search his own for answers. It has his lips lifting into a smile that mirrors yours, confirming that he had been eavesdropping on your drunken confession weeks ago.  Your smile widens. 

 “Until the light leaves my eyes.”

This was a better idea in my head but hey, at least I finished it. I also don't know the logistics of having a conversation in the rain but that's the beauty of fanfic, I guess?lol Anyway, I could not get these lyrics out of my head. They were so Azriel coded for me:

I'll love you 'til the day that I die 'Til the day that I die 'Til the light leaves my eyes 'Til the day that I die I want you to see, hm How you look to me, hm You wouldn't believe if I told ya You would keep the compliments I throw ya

the way I keep fixing these lyrics but I think tumblr is glitching or something uggghh, pls ignore the random mismatched sizing

Also just wanted to point out that if Az hasn’t confessed, reader would’ve done it the next day anyway 💀

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