#i want the image of him crying out! of my brain! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mercy-burning · 6 months ago

Text

…I Wonder

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes a full-time nanny to three-year-old Benjamin, but what she doesn’t realize is just how hard the job will be— not because of the child, but rather her growing attraction to his father. Category: Mature (18+) Content: adults with age gap, drinking, dry humping, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, “little girl” nickname, cum play, praise Word Count: 11k (idk how this keeps happening lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This fic is titled after and loosely inspired by "Pony" by Ashley Monroe. It's not required listening, but obviously I recommend the song. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a teenager obsessed with Dean Winchester, so... that probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am... LMAO anyway, enjoy <3 I had a blast writing this one!!

———

ACT I: If I Had A Baby...

The first job I ever had also happened to be the best job I ever had. I was twenty years old, and I found an ad in the paper searching for a full-time nanny to a little boy. I didn't think anything of it, other than I desperately needed the money and I didn't mind babysitting. A few years out of school with no plans to attend college and no solid idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I wasn't sure if I'd even get hired. I was almost certain that no one would want a college-aged kid with no stable ambitions or previous job experience, but I was desperate. And CPR-certified.

It was a start. A shot in the dark.

By some miracle, Spencer Reid apparently was also desperate enough to be willing to take a chance on me.

He explained over the phone that he was away more than he'd like to be, and even if he tried to work from home, doing FBI work and raising a toddler alone at the same time was nearly impossible. I agreed to an interview, absolutely elated that I had a foot in the door and the bright beacon of hope for some sort of routine. Something to occupy my time and something to care about, to care for.

I was expecting the work to be... not hard, necessarily, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that taking care of a child was a walk in the park. There would surely be tantrums or bouts of "I miss Daddy!" or refusal to eat what I made him for lunch... I knew going into these interviews that I would be signing up for a major responsibility that meant a lot, not only to Spencer but also to his child. I had to prove that I could do my job and do it well. That alone was a challenge, but one I was willing to work with. I was ready for it.

What I wasn't ready for, however, was the betrayal I felt when my brain failed to warn me of the possibility that he was not only a single father, but a hot one.

The second I showed up at his door and he opened the barrier between us, I swear it felt like the sun swallowed me whole and burnt me to a crisp. He smiled brightly and introduced himself, and I was done for.

"You must be Y/N! Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid."

Doctor? So he was smart, then, too. Perfect. The Trifecta of Peak Hotness had been achieved. That instantly made this new job ten-times harder than I anticipated, and I hadn't even started yet.

I wasn't sure I could go through with it at first, but the more we talked, the more I relaxed, and I felt sympathy for him. He was a genuinely kind and loving parent who wanted the best for his son, a three-year-old named Benjamin who loved dinosaurs and airplanes and Cheeto Puffs. I didn't get to meet him that day, since he was with his Aunt JJ (who, the way Spencer told it, was most likely feeding his Cheeto Puff addiction as we spoke), but if the interview went well, I'd get to meet him in the next week.

I mulled over my options and almost decided not to show up for the next interview; to call and tell him I'd changed my mind or something, but it pained me to even imagine the disappointment in his voice had he asked me why. For whatever reason, the vivid image of a toddler pouting and crying to his father because he had to leave, and that no one wanted to care for him burned itself into my soul until I relented and just took the job anyway.

It was fair to at least meet the kid first, right?

Benny was insanely talkative— but not really conversational. Most of the time I tried to keep up, but his mouth was moving a mile a minute, and the conversation always ended up falling flat on my end, so I pretty quickly decided to give up and enthusiastically let him carry it.

He had his father's brains as well. For hours that first meeting, he sat there and read me passages of aircraft encyclopedias, and in between two random sections I politely requested that we move on to dinosaurs (which were infinitely cooler). And then, in that adorable toddler voice that made it impossible to be irritated, he looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I read all my dinosaur books last week. This week is for airplanes."

Spencer looked like he was going to divert the conversation entirely, perhaps suggest that Benny do something else while we talked some more, but who was I to interrupt the kid's routine and crush his dreams? If I was going to be his nanny, then I was going to have to make him like me. Right?

So, I nodded like I'd never considered it and encouraged him to keep going. To which he did, very happily.

Spencer seemed happy, too. He was always delighted to see Benny when he came home from work, but there was something about the way he relaxed and perked up all the same at my first interactions with his son that twisted my gut. What that man was filled with at the sight of me wasn't just joy, but hope, too, and regardless of where that joy and hope came from, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to notice as a young woman.

It was way too easy to fall into daydream territory. I was alert and attentive when watching Benny, of course, but the second Spencer walked in and completely knocked the wind out of me with that joy and relief radiating from his perfect smile, it was like a screw came loose in my brain and turned me into a feral, horny beast. And then I would return home, alone with my thoughts, and I couldn't divert them from the wild direction they took.

At first it was just your standard wet dream, a girl lusting over the older man she nannied for. It was purely pornographic and provided nothing but short-term relief until I saw him in person again, which frustrated me.

I almost thought about quitting, or saying I was looking into schooling so I could cut down on my hours, but...

That wasn't fair to Benny. He and I had actually formed a pretty stellar routine, if I do say so myself.

And every time I thought about leaving, I couldn't help but think about what I would tell him. Would I even tell him anything at all, or would Spencer just omit me from his life completely and give him an explanation in my place? Who would watch over him after I left? Someone old and mean who made him eat vegetables instead of Cheeto Puffs, and demanded he read to them about dinosaurs instead of airplanes, not giving him the option to develop his curiosity in whatever way he chose? Who would tuck him into bed on the nights his father was late or out of town, and would they sleep on the couch soundly and happily like I did?

I hated even thinking about it.

And then there was the first paycheck.

Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about the money, not after I met the boys and introduced them into my daily routine. I remembered Spencer telling me after my first day alone with Benny that he wouldn't get a paycheck to me until the start of the next month, and I was okay with it. Really, I was just focusing on trying not to drool for the entire conversation, but I digress.

Payment completely slipped my mind.

And then I showed up to do my job, and Benny was nowhere in sight.

"Where's the little guy?" I inquired, looking around and hearing nothing either. "He's usually waiting at the door for me like a dog."

Spencer laughed and concealed something behind his back. "He does really enjoy his nights with you... He's actually staying with JJ and her kids tonight, though. Our schedules opened up and she offered to take him for the night. I was going to call and tell you, but I wanted to give you this, anyway."

He handed me an envelope, folded over but not sealed. I took it with an, "Oh," unsure of what it was until I saw the corner of the check. It felt rude somehow to open it in front of him, but his presence was so overwhelming anyway, especially being alone with him, that I needed something to occupy my hands and my thoughts and just about everything else I had in my possession.

At first, I thought it was a joke. A prank. It was too good to be true; He was just messing with me and would hand me a fifty-dollar bill on my way out for my trouble. Surely, if not that, then it was a mistake.

I didn't know how long I'd stood there, staring at the paper with whatever expression was all over my face, but it must have been too long and too concerning because Spencer sounded worried when he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

I blinked for a moment, then finally had the courage to look him in the eye, my mouth completely dry. "You are not giving me five-thousand dollars right now."

"Well... No, technically, I'm giving you a check for five-thousand dollars. What you do with it and when is completely up to you, but... You deserve it. Y/N, you've been a Godsend, and Benny and I are lucky to have you around. Thank you. Very much."

I didn't even think about it. It was an insanely kind gesture, and I was in such a state of shock and gratitude and mind-numbing attraction to him in that moment that I leapt forward and flung my arms around his neck, tears stinging my eyes.

He hugged me back tightly and laughed, allowing me to cry my thanks into his shoulder as we nearly tumbled into the coffee table.

ACT II: If I Was A Lady...

The months flew by, and before I knew it, it was Benny's fourth birthday.

Spencer and his friends heavily involved me in the planning process, a gesture that surprised me, but that I obviously would never be thankful enough for. It's not like I hadn't ever known a loving family or anything, but they were all so warm and welcoming; it was like I'd been friends with them my whole life. My chest bloomed brightly with every laugh and every hug, and I don't think I could have been any happier. I felt like I belonged there.

It was a day, and night, I would never forget.

Everyone had left, and Benny was fast asleep in his bed. Spencer and I looked down at him with smiles so bright, if they'd actually radiated any light the poor boy would have woken up.

"Ah, the cake coma," I laughed quietly, Spencer guiding me out of the bedroom. I couldn't stop giggling even as we walked—Admittedly, I was a little buzzed on champagne. Still, Spencer laughed with me, and we sat down on the couch. I could tell he was exhausted, but happy.

"I still have to clean all of this up..." It was more of an amused I'll-do-it-tomorrow statement, but I had this drunken simmering need to please him so badly that I shook my head and hit his arm.

"No. That's my job. I'll take care of it, you just take your beautiful ass right to bed, you hear me?"

He raised an eyebrow but laughed at me anyway, clearly amused by my banter. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed the underage drinking after all..."

"Oh, please. I'm not even drunk, just a little loose. Besides, I'll be twenty-one in a couple of months anyway."

"Mmmm."

I hadn't realized how much closer we'd gotten until just then, when he hummed and looked me over. I could feel his breath on my face, and our limbs were just barely touching. Suddenly it was like my entire body was numb, sizzling everywhere we touched, and the champagne had become a part of my bloodstream. The fizz was all I knew, all I was.

Spencer's eyes found mine, and they didn't look away. They pulled me in slowly. I was powerless to stop it, not that I'd ever want to...

In fact, I very eagerly melted into him the second our lips found each other. My head swam, my fingers started tingling, and I was very aware of every movement we made. I straddled his lap, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me flush against him as his tongue darted out swiftly to taste mine.

I couldn't believe it was actually happening. Every few seconds I kept thinking to myself, this feels like a dream... It has to be a dream... Between the pent-up attraction I'd been accumulating for him over the last few months and the alcohol that loosened me up and dissolved any ounce of common sense I possessed, I felt like I was in a different world entirely.

He hardened underneath me and my nerves went nuclear, instinctively forcing my body to roll over his. I ground my hips, aching to feel that sweet friction that I'd only felt once before with another man— so long ago and so unbelievably dull in comparison to the sensations I was feeling in Spencer's lap. I was only barely experienced with sex, but I was experienced enough to know that I didn't have anything to be nervous about; This man would take good care of me. I felt it in my bones.

The thought alone sent my body into overdrive. I whined and rolled my hips relentlessly, wishing I was completely bare and feeling him so deep inside me that his absence would leave me haunted. I wanted to feel him forever. I wanted him to ruin my life and claim me as his own, until there was absolutely nothing left of me.

His hands cradled my head reverently as he continued to kiss me deep and slow, raising his hips up to meet mine and aid in getting me off. The gentle tugs of his fingers through my hair and the warm hums of encouragement he offered to my mouth as I climbed higher and higher towards that precipice of pleasure made me weak. I felt so fragile in his arms, like I was meant to be right there, allowing him to guide me wherever. I would have done anything for him, anything so long as he kept holding me and making me sigh—making me glow.

"Fuck—I'm gonna come," I exclaimed in a broken whisper, breaking apart from his mouth to bury my face in his hair. He brought his hands down to my hips then, groaning as quietly as he could into my neck as he helped me rock back and forth across his lap.

It wasn't an earth-shattering intense orgasm by any means; there wasn't nearly enough stimulation for that. But I was so wet and aroused that even the low, quick and burning pleasure that shot through my core for a few seconds was enough to satisfy me. I wasn't in any position to complain.

That was, of course, until I reached down to touch Spencer's belt, and he pushed me away. Not aggressively, but his hands—which had been so gentle and welcoming just moments before—had gone rigid. Frozen and firm, like he'd just been scared half to death.

He scrambled out from my reach and put so much distance between us that I went cold. My name tumbled from his lips in a regretful sigh, and it stung.

"We can't ever do that again."

"Okay," was all I could manage to say. I was still tingling all over, like my whole body had fallen numb and was now just warming up to the idea of having senses again.

"That was irresponsible. And I'm too old for you."

"M-hm," I agreed absentmindedly.

"You should go home."

"Okay."

"I'll call you a cab."

"Thank you."

I went home that night with a deep twist in my gut that wouldn't go away. The rejection hurt. It scared me, too, wondering if I'd still have a job when I woke up in the morning. Was that the last time I would ever see Spencer? And Benny? Had I really just screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me?

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on Spencer's couch, getting myself off in his lap and reveling in his embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, hating myself for being so reckless, and even more so for not regretting it a single bit.

After I was finally able to get a solid couple of hours of sleep, I had a text message from Spencer waiting for me when I woke up.

I sincerely apologize for last night. The job is still yours, but I also understand if you don't want it anymore. Take a few days, whatever time you need, and let me know.

I was relieved, of course, but also deeply curious to know how we would keep things professional after something like that. I guess I was just mostly surprised that he was willing to, considering he seemed pretty rattled by it.

Still, If he was willing to try, then so was I.

I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't give up you and Benjamin for the world. All is well?

He texted back almost immediately; All is well.

It only clicked into place a few months later, once the initial shock of our "escapade" had faded away and we could return to business as normal. Because, really, the truth was we couldn't return to business as normal. We tried, but he never looked me in the eye for longer than a second at a time, he refused to touch me in any way, careful not to even brush my hand as he handed me my monthly check, and his small talk was even more painful than it had been previously.

Still, I continued to be Benny's nanny—and best friend, according to Auntie Penelope, much to her dismay. I still loved that kid more than anything in the world, and I still, unfortunately, wanted his father to kiss me again.

I was willing to let it all go, though, to admit that it was a silly stupid crush that could never come to anything and just deal with it like an adult, and then I had to overhear the motherfucker when he came home one night. I was resting on the couch, about to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but then I heard a voice that wasn't Spencer's. It was his friend, Luke.

Spencer cut him off then. "Quiet, please."

There was shuffling, keys being set down, and then a small laugh as they got closer to me. I didn't move a muscle, focusing only on my breathing. "Right. Don't wake the hot nanny, got it."

"She's right there," Spencer hissed, and I tried not to laugh. My insides flared to life as he added, "And I asked you not to bring that up..."

"Oh, come on, Reid. You have the hots for her; big deal. It's normal."

"So? I'm... I'm technically her boss, and she's far too young for me. It's not right, and you know that."

"Whatever. You do what you think is right, man, but I'm telling you; Ignoring it is only going to make you more stressed."

Spencer mumbled something incoherent, and the two shuffled off into the kitchen for God-knows-what. All I could think about was that he wanted me. It was probably killing him just as badly as it was killing me not to give into each other again. My mind was racing, my heart beat violently in my chest, and I knew then that I had to pretend to wake up or else I'd sit there and burst into flames.

I had to leave. I had to do something; What, I didn't know, but this revelation had me reeling and feeling a myriad of things, and I needed to sit with them, preferably alone so I wasn't tempted to just jump him on the spot.

"Did we wake you? I'm sorry." Spencer's kind voice warmed me from the inside out as I shuffled into the kitchen to say goodbye.

I quickly gathered my things and avoided his gaze. "Oh. No, you didn't. If you're back for the night though, I'm gonna go home. I'm exhausted."

"Little guy was that rambunctious, huh?" Luke joked.

I smiled and gave him a wink. "Oh, no. He was an absolute angel, as always. His daddy raised him well. Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"

He cleared his throat, rasping out, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night."

I tried not to run mischievously out the door, willing my legs to be normal. But the second there was a tangible barrier between us, I bolted to my car, high on adrenaline and unable to wipe the smile from my face; I was wide awake.

Eventually, though, I realized it would be absolutely stupid to do anything about it. Did it boost my ego and my mood? Absolutely. It also softened the blow of his avoidance and his initial rejection that night; All of his behavior made much more sense. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he wouldn't entertain our mutual desire, but as long as it was there... It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

I'd gotten a text from him earlier in the day, asking if I could come over last minute to watch Benny. I wasn't going to say no, obviously, but when I got there to see him dressed up, I shot up an eyebrow.

"A little fancy for work, yeah?" I told him, hanging my keys up and listening for Benny.

"Oh, I'm... not going to work, actually. I, uh... I have a date."

I froze. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to react. Naturally my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario—visions of Spencer sleeping with another woman, someone older and not a nanny. Someone who was distinguished and well-read and smart, someone like himself. Someone who was more inherently right for him. It... made me sad.

Admittedly, I felt stupid even thinking that way. It wasn't my right to dictate his dating life, no matter how badly I wanted him; I knew what he tasted like, knew how it felt to come undone in his embrace, and yet I wasn't entitled to him solely based on that.

Still. It doesn't mean I had to like it.

"Oh... Um... Good for you," I told him, nodding and turning away in case he tried to profile me. "Have fun."

He said goodbye to Benny a few minutes later, and then gave me a polite, transactional wave on his way out the door. It shut, and it felt like my chest was collapsing.

But I was only able to wallow for a few seconds. Benny tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me quizzically.

"Auntie Y/N, are you sad?"

His sweet face lifted my spirits like it always did, and I didn't have the energy to think about the other emotions that were swimming around in my chest anyway. So I smiled at him and picked him up, shaking my head. "Not anymore, kiddo; I get to hang out with my favorite person!"

We spent all night munching on Cheeto Puffs and building Lego sets, and it was unsurprising to me that by the time I'd finished one, Benny had finished three. Still, our sets combined to make a larger one, and then we were able to give the people names and backstories and adventures.

Either time passed very quickly, or Spencer didn't last very long on his date, because the front door opened and I was surprised he was home before I could put Benny to bed.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running and dropping his half-eaten Cheeto Puff in my lap. I laughed and tossed it in the trash can on my way to the door, greeting Spencer, who was hugging his son tightly and making him giggle profusely.

"You're home early," I observed as he set him down.

"Had to make it home before curfew, of course." A joke. He was deflecting. I kind of hated that I felt relief at the insinuation.

"Of course," I agreed.

"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"

Benny jumped and grabbed his father's hand. "Auntie Y/N and I made a whole Lego village! It has a library!"

"It does?" Spencer asked bending down to his level and positively beaming. The sight made my chest tighten.

"It really does! Do you want to come see?"

"Oh, absolutely. I just have to talk to Auntie Y/N first, and I'll be right in, is that okay?" He nodded and Spencer ruffled his hair. "Okay. Say goodnight."

Benny turned and ran to me then, and I squatted down to hug him. "Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Thank you for building with me."

"Oh, you're welcome, kiddo. You're an excellent building partner; The best in the business."

He laughed and scampered off to his bedroom, and as I stood up, I felt Spencer's eyes on me. I couldn't decipher what the feeling was on his end, but regardless, it burned a hole through me and made my heart pound in my ears.

"How'd it go?" I asked casually, dusting Cheeto off my jeans. Did you do it just to forget about how much you want me? Did it work?

He shrugged and leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. He almost looked exhausted. "I'd have much rather liked to be at home with my boy and his best friend to tell you the truth."

My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was getting at. Was he fucking with me? Or was he simply telling the honest, innocent truth, while I was letting my lust take the drivers' seat and go searching for some insane imaginary intention to help along my hot-single-father/nanny fantasy?

Suddenly, I was the one who felt exhausted, and Spencer could tell. He shifted and continued talking. "Thank you again for staying with him on such short notice."

"Oh, anytime. It's what I'm here for. In fact, feel free to go on all the bad dates you want."

I don't know why it came out of my mouth, but I was glad that Spencer laughed. Still, I scrambled to get my keys and walked past him to leave, kind of embarrassed by the verbalized impulsive thought regardless.

His hand grabbed my arm gently before I could leave, and my heart caught in my throat. I dared to look up at him and immediately felt that familiar heat return to my core, suddenly very fragile under the weight of his gaze.

He studied me for a moment before he let go of my arm and cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

I couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to tell me something else. He did say he wanted to talk to me before putting Benny to bed, after all... So, what? That was it?

It was stupid, and I should have just told him, "Goodnight," back, but those damned impulsive thoughts kept dancing on my tongue with reckless abandon, and I couldn't stop them from escaping. So, without another thought, I tilted my head and asked him instead, "Was she my age?"

Spencer stared at me, something darkening in his eyes when he responded, "No."

I threw back one of his considering hums, glancing down at his lips before looking him directly in the eye and giving him a firm, "Oh." There were plenty more things I could have told him, none of them appropriate. But I figured I'd already had enough pushing my luck for the night, and reached for the doorknob instead of dragging it out. The night would end like it always did, with a formal, professional farewell.

I was about to finally tell him, "Goodnight," but his hand came down very gently over mine and rendered me silent. Our eyes met once more, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Even if she had been, she wouldn't have been you."

And then he opened the door for me, and I walked out without another word, my head spinning and my heart threatening to give out on me. He hadn't even kissed me, but he might as well have; I was just as breathless.

ACT III: He Is Nice, But He Looks So Mean.

I was actually littered with nerves walking in the door the next time I came over to watch Benny.

I hadn't heard anything from Spencer for a week, until he called and asked me to come over for the night to watch him while he went to work. I was going to do it with no questions asked, obviously, but because that insane confession was echoing in my mind on a continuous loop since it happened, I couldn't even bring myself to think about seeing him again and knowing... I had no idea what reaction my body was going to have to being in his presence again.

It scared me, but also deeply excited me.

Once my body had enough courage to step through the doorway, my heart rate sped up exponentially, and then upon seeing what was in front of me, it stuttered with a terrifying halt.

Warmth flooded my veins and brought a smile to my face when the four-year-old boy I nannied for and loved more than anything threw his hands in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Happy Birthday!"

He ran up to me and nearly toppled me to the ground, and on instinct, my arms reached out to pick him up as he hugged my neck and listed off the things he did to celebrate.

"Daddy said your birthday was yesterday, but we wanted to give you a party just like you did for my birthday! So we went to the store and got you ingredients for your cake, and we made it just for you!"

"You did?" I exclaimed, setting him down and letting him lead me to the kitchen where the cake was sitting out on the table, clearly homemade by two boys who didn't know the first thing about baking or decorating anything. Spencer was standing across the kitchen table with a proud, albeit I-know-it's-not-much-to-look-at smile, but I barely had time to thank him before Benny told me about the process, step-by-step.

As he went on, I nodded and admired the cake, complimenting the purple and green swirls of frosting (his favorite color and mine, he explained), and the trail of assorted candies in the shape of a stegosaurus in the middle (my favorite dinosaur).

"Do you love it, Auntie Y/N?"

I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. I tried not to actually cry, but the tugging at the back of my throat and the blurring of my eyes was extremely difficult to push away. I realized then, as Spencer watched me with his son and looked like he might have been ready to cry himself, that it wasn't worth trying to hide. I was extremely moved and even happier in that moment than I think I'd ever been. I loved that man and his child more than anything I'd ever known.

So, I blinked hard and let the tears silently descend down my cheeks, kissing the side of Benny's head as I told him, "I love it so much. And I love you so much. Thank you."

I looked up at Spencer and said it again. "Thank you."

He nodded, reaching for the star-shaped candle next to the cake. "You're very welcome. Benny, do you want to help Auntie Y/N light the birthday candle?"

The boy squirmed in my arms and I let him down with a laugh as he excitedly reminded us, "That's my favorite part of birthdays!"

"I apologize if you find an eggshell," Spencer warned a few minutes later, slicing the cake after the song had been sung and the candle had been blown out. He slid my plate over and handed me a fork. "Benny and I did our best to fish them all out, but it's... surprisingly harder than it looks."

As Benny nodded in agreement, I looked down at him and took a forkful of cake. "Oh, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you two are excellent eggshell fishermen."

The four-year-old giggled, but his father sighed as if to say, Don't say I didn't warn you...

To no one's surprise but Spencer's, the cake was delicious. I may have played it up for dramatic effect, putting on a whole show as I chewed and considered every bite, playing as if I was unsure and really critiquing the dessert. I set my fork down and looked at Spencer with squinted eyes, then slowly to his son. The suspense was obviously killing him, his small limbs bouncing with anticipation and a smile that suggested he was going to urge the verdict out of me if I didn't announce it very soon.

I decided to spare him the wait.

"Benjamin Reid... That might just be the best cake I've ever had."

"Really? No eggshells?"

I laughed, reaching to give him a high-five as he beamed up at me with sparkling eyes and a wide-open smile. "Not a single one. You should be very proud of yourself. You and your dad, both."

Benny hugged me again, and I glanced over to Spencer, who was slicing another piece of cake and staring at me with that intense look in his eyes, a satisfied half-smile adorning his face. A rush of heat came surging through my bloodstream like a tidal wave, and I had to look away from him or I was afraid I'd collapse on the spot.

Benny didn't know it, but he was saving my life in that very moment, as the three of us ate cake together. I refused to look at his father. I needed literally anything else to keep me from even glancing his way, and my four-year-old best friend's rambling habits were the perfect focus.

He told me more about his process for decorating the cake, and while I was genuinely a little surprised at how much thought there really could have been with the task, with an ever-moving mind like Benny's, it was actually quite clear by the end of it. It charmed me to no end and filled me with pride to know that I'd had enough of an impact on him to trigger this level of detail and consideration. Again, it's not like I'd never had people who cared about me before, but when it came to the Reids, my heart sang a tune I'd never heard, and it was the most beautiful, brightly vivid sound I'd ever had the pleasure to hear—to feel.

I was thinking too much about it, letting the song swallow me whole as tears stung in the back of my eyes and threatened to fall again, when Spencer's phone buzzed on the table. The sound grounded and intrigued me, even more so when he glanced up at me for a moment, right before directing his words to his son.

"Benny, Uncle Will is outside. Is your bag ready?"

He jumped from his seat and nodded. "In my room."

"Okay. Before you grab it, say goodnight to Auntie Y/N."

I felt the toddler's arms hugging my legs, and turned all my attention to him, refusing once again to look at the man whose eyes I could feel burning me alive with something deeply ravenous, begging to be unfettered. I had a feeling, creeping over my senses like a thick blanket of ivy, that I wasn't making it up and letting my desire for him take the wheel, either; Just as the loving, family-friendly song in my heart had been—bright and vivid—this feeling was just as much the same in its intensity, only echoed with a sound that felt very much like those dark, low hums Spencer always emitted alone in my presence. I felt it all around me and hoped to God that I wasn't about to leave this place feeling like a hopeful, stupid idiot.

"Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Did you like your birthday?"

"I did, Benny," I answered in earnest, ruffling his hair. "You're very thoughtful and kind. Thank you so much."

"I love you, Auntie Y/N."

I squeezed him tight and made sure he understood every word as truth when I told him, "I love you, too."

ACT IV: When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Your Girl.

The apartment was quiet when Spencer took Benny outside to meet with Will. I did my best to keep myself busy, cleaning up forks and plates, and wiping down the counter tops while simultaneously ignoring the hammering of my heart against my chest. The organ wouldn't calm down, even as I hummed to myself. It's like those nerves that I had walking through the front door that night never actually went away— only subsided for a little while in favor of wholesome celebration.

Part of me wanted to flee, but I knew it wasn't an option. Not really. I had to at least talk to Spencer and thank him for the effort. Perhaps I was good enough of an actress that I could pretend to have been ignorant of his glances all night, or at least that they didn't affect me like he maybe wanted them to.

Catching myself in the act of overthinking again, I grunted and slammed a glass of water, willing the fresh liquid to wash away any insanity. There was no use going through all the possible scenarios in my head, not when there wasn't much time before Spencer returned. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to be prepared for it.

I certainly wasn't prepared for the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he returned, softly opening and closing the door. It took everything I had not to turn around and allow him to see how nervous I was. I kept my back turned, hoping and praying I wasn't visibly shaking as heavily as I felt. I was warm all over.

His presence behind me was dense and ever-present― almost suffocating. I took my time drying off the plates and forks I'd washed while he was away, hearing him rustle around without a word or acknowledgement of me, and then he finally spoke. I almost dropped a fork.

"Why are you doing my dishes, Birthday Girl?"

"My birthday was yesterday..."

He laughed and came up behind me, a gentle hand on my lower back as the other reached around and took the silverware from my grip. I relented, feeling myself numb at his touch and trying to steady my breathing.

"Yes, but we're celebrating today. In my household at least, that means you're not allowed to do any work."

I turned around to face him as he set the fork down on the counter, his other hand still hovering over my back. It returned to his side, disappearing into the pocket of his pants as I crossed my arms and looked up at him. Thankfully, despite the constant whirring of nerves and desire coursing through my entire being, I was able to hold a conversation without hesitation.

"You're not my dad."

Another amused grin. "No, I'm not. But I am your boss. And as your boss, I'm asking you to take the night off and enjoy yourself."

The way he was staring down at me seemingly punctuated his words with a gentle seduction that made me ache with need. I was getting stronger and bolder by the second, leaning forward just enough to be toe-to-toe with him.

"Okay, then, Boss... Tell me, are there any restrictions to enjoying myself in your household? Because..."

The second I heard that familiar hum rumble from his chest, I knew I was in danger― glorious, beautiful danger. His eyes glanced down at my mouth for a second before returning to my own, his body leaning into mine and his free hand reaching out to trap me against the counter.

I tilted my head and brought my fingers up to toy with the tie hanging from his neck. "I am all grown up now, after all..."

"And I suppose you know exactly what you want..."

"Mm-hmm," I drawled, pulling him in closer by the tie. Our lips were barely touching by that point, and I felt my head start to pulse with anticipation as he urged me to go on.

"Well?"

"I want to be yours."

He hummed again, pushing his body to mine and bringing the pocketed hand up to hold the side of my head. "Mmm, Darling, you always have been."

And then he kissed me.

He tasted like sugar, but his intentions were anything but sweet. His mouth devoured mine with a fire that threatened to turn me to ash. Every sense I had was alight, engulfing me in a heat so intense that it was all I was sure to know for the rest of my life. It's all I wanted and all I needed.

I met his intensity with eager hands, exploring the planes of his body as his tongue did wicked things to my own. This time I didn't even need the champagne; I was dizzy on Spencer alone. The fizz boiled me from the inside out and urged my limbs to cling to him like it was my life's purpose. Hell, for all I knew, it was my life's purpose― to burn for him and let him consume me. To revel in his dancing flame and allow it to become my life force. I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.

And I was sure to let him know that, too, refusing to hold back the string of whines and moans that escaped me every now and again. The hand that had been resting on the counter behind me came down to grip and hike up my thigh, our hips colliding just as beautifully this time as they had the last. The memory caused another wanton sound to tumble from my mouth, and Spencer caught it greedily, pulling back for air long enough to squeeze my thigh and sing me a praise of his own.

"God, I love the sounds you make..."

His lips were on mine again before I could respond, but I didn't even need to. Not verbally, anyway; I guided his hand down the side of my face and over my chest, pushing my body into him and feeling his fingers tighten. His kisses grew hungrier, and suddenly I was starving.

I was finally able to break away from his mouth in favor of tasting the skin and stubble along his jaw. Then, I buried my face in his neck and reached for his belt, praying he wouldn't jump away like last time.

Thankfully, he didn't. His grip on both my breast and my thigh tightened again, but he didn't pull away from me. His breath didn't even hitch.

I took that as a good sign and slowly undid his belt. The sound alone was enough to send a jolt of excitement between my thighs, though the visions dancing behind my eyelids of what I planned to do in just a few moments helped my pleasure immensely. I dragged my tongue softly along Spencer's neck before freeing the belt and sinking to the ground alongside it. His hands fell away from my body and chose to root in my hair instead. The gentle tugging at my scalp admittedly made me stumble, but not out of discomfort; I was actually quite surprised at how much I liked the feeling.

Spencer noticed, humming again with amusement as I went back to tugging down his pants. Still, he said nothing, instead watching me intently as I continued my journey.

I didn't hide the desire I felt as I palmed the length of him through his underwear. In fact, I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my sight leveled or to angle it up at him, because it was a damn good sight either way; The sensual nature of my fingers gently caressing him, knowing what was resting beyond that thin layer of fabric and imagining how it probably felt to him, or the thick and domineering air between his face and mine, his gaze committing every movement I made to wicked memory...

With a sigh, I opted to lean forward, ignoring the sharp bruising on my knees and putting all my focus into the task at large.

Spencer seemed to tell I was thinking too much, gently massaging my scalp and cooing, "Have you ever done this before?"

Yes, but... "Not with anyone I've actually wanted this badly..."

"Mmm, that does make a difference..." he observed. "Whatever it is that you need to be comfortable, Y/N― tell me. Okay? Promise me you won't hurt yourself in any way just to please me."

A surge of heat exploded through me at the intensity of it all. He was sincere, and by the sound of things, sympathetic to my overthinking. It was another show of just how much I wanted him to guide me, to hold me in his comforting, knowing embrace and show me exactly how life should be lived. Every life experience there was to know, I wanted to know it with him.

"I promise," I told him firmly, not breaking eye contact as I tugged at the cotton between us.

His eyes struggled to stay open when I finally gripped his cock, feeling the weight of it in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. I glanced down then, taking in every ridge as it disappeared slowly down the length of my tongue. I reveled in the taste, in the fullness I felt the deeper it went, and once it hit the back of my throat and caused me to choke and pull back, I angled my eyes back up at his face to find the most heavenly sight I'd ever seen.

Spencer watched me all the time. I was no stranger to his intense gazes. But when I looked up at him that time, his mouth open and eyes so deeply darkened with need that they could have drowned me, I truly thought I might have died and entered the afterlife. Perhaps that was dramatic, but there was no other possible way for me to describe the feeling that coursed through me in that moment. Suddenly I was chasing it, longing to be in that state of euphoria forever, and my mouth eagerly went to work in pursuit of it.

I took my time, exploring the ways he could fit in my mouth and the ways my tongue could cover the length of him. I went in search of any pleasure point I could find, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction and finding nothing but those beautiful, salacious pools of liquid gold.

Eventually, I was brave enough to take him to the back of the throat again, holding him there and seeing how long it would take before I felt the air leave my lungs. I repeated the process a few times, stroking him with my hand in between gasps of air and shivering at the way he tugged my hair. My vision was starting to blur, but I persisted, aching to know what he tasted like as he came undone.

Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for me to find out that night.

I whined as he held my head away from him, praying he wasn't backing out.

"Stand up, please," he asked softly. It sounded like he'd been breathless, and maybe he had. The thought that I had that effect on him calmed my nerves and made me dizzy as I stood, and his hands cradled my head once again.

"You are so good," he whispered, kissing me deeply. I melted into him, only for him to pull back and continue his praises. "So beautiful..." Another toe-curling kiss, and then, "So perfect."

My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my pulse-point. "My good, sweet girl," he murmured, and the words caused me to clench around nothing.

"Please."

The word fell out of me with a whimper and at its urgency, Spencer's mouth attacked my neck with a gentle, hungry bite that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Follow me."

And I did. I always would.

As much as I would have loved the opportunity to look around his bedroom and make banter about what I discovered on any normal day, my brain was so overwhelmed and numb with desire that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Not that I would have had the time to think about it anyway; He was on me the moment my legs touched the edge of the bed, devouring my mouth once more and pulling me into his atmosphere with fervor. Willing myself to get even closer to him, I brought my fingers up to thread through his hair and was rewarded with another gentle tug of my own.

Suddenly I was extremely hot, squirmy and anxious to break free from the confines of clothing, and Spencer could tell.

He broke apart with a laugh, bringing a hand down to trace the collar of my shirt. "Have you no patience?"

"You're the one sucking my face like it's the end of the fucking world," I breathed when he shifted the collar and exposed more of my skin to the air, earning me another low grumble of a laugh.

"You're not complaining are you?"

"God, no."

"Mmm, good," he hummed into my cheek, reaching down and tugging my shirt over my head. The fabric caught on his nose for a second, bringing a laugh to the surface of my tongue before he swallowed it with another kiss and tossed the shirt to the ground.

Warm, nimble fingers spanned my bare stomach and thoroughly explored the surface area of me, up and up until they slipped under the backside of my bra.

"Is this okay?"

I pushed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip. "Yes, Doctor."

Goosebumps littered my arms as he deftly unhooked the bra and slid it off my body, and I barely had time to take a breath before he was kissing me again, pawing at my chest and slipping me his eager tongue. My senses were on overload, that hot pang of need pulsating between my legs as I then fell backwards, letting him lay me down and settle himself between them. His kisses traveled lower, tongue darting out to flick over my peaked nipple, and I involuntarily arched up into him.

No one had ever paid this much careful attention to my body before—It was always a quick pleasantry to get out of the way before the main course. But the way Spencer held and touched and tasted me felt like a crash course in intimacy. He was still hungry for me, obviously, but he made it feel like it wasn't just about the destination. He savored each and every second of the moment in all its pent-up, beautiful glory.

Which is why, when he finally slipped a hand down the front of my pants, he seemed delighted to find that I was practically soaked through my panties already.

His middle finger pressed firmly at my clothed heat, and I sighed into his mouth.

"Look at what I've done to you... Poor thing. You're just aching to be filled, aren't you?"

My head had no choice but to arch backwards as I moaned into the open air at his words, my legs clamping around his hand. "God, Spencer, please..."

"So I'm not wrong, then?" he mused, teasing me some more and just barely pushing the fabric aside. I squirmed and lifted my hips, trying to guide him in the right place, but he pulled away from me then, leaving me cold.

Only a second later did the heat return; Spencer stood at the foot of the bed and gently helped me scoot to the edge. He removed the rest of my clothes and stared down at my bare figure as he unbuttoned his shirt, debauchery settling in his eyes as they raked over me. With careful consideration, once his shirt was on the floor with the rest of my clothes, he came down and caressed my inner thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart.

"You're so wet and needy, I'm willing to bet you don't even need me to prep you..."

All it took was one lithe finger to prove his theory correct. It slid into me with ease, and I whined out at the contact. One finger swiftly became two, and after a few slow pumps with no resistance, he seemed satisfied. "Mmm, that's what I thought... You've been ready for me for a long time, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh," was all I could manage under the circumstances. Every word and every touch was rendering me incapable of anything more complex.

He removed his fingers from me then, and leaned down to nudge my nose with his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked me in a whisper, fluttering a gentle kiss over my lips as his cock barely teased my entrance. It was such a simple question, but it only deepened the desire I felt for him— It was gentle and attentive and intimate...

"Never better," I responded earnestly.

"Yeah?" he cooed. He pushed into me slowly then, and I gasped at the pressure. "Are you ready to take it?"

"Uh-huh," I stuttered once more, crying out silently when he finally bottomed out and ground his hips in a slow circle against my own.

"Tell me what you want, little girl," he begged sweetly against my lips. "Please, I need to hear you say it."

I gripped his shoulders and pulled back a little to hold his gaze, almost gasping out again at the way his hips pinned me down. It was difficult to form the perfect sentence, but I figured I didn't really need to say much at all― only the whimper-y, pathetic truth, which was, "I want you so bad..."

"As you wish."

The words barely left his lips before he began to move, hooking my legs around his forearms and spreading me apart further. He fucked me deeply, and with a steady pace that knocked the wind from my lungs and already had me seeing stars. That had never happened before.

Spencer could tell, a grin forming on his face as he freed one of his hands and softly traced my jaw. "Better than you thought?"

Absolutely. But there was something about that cocky grin on his face and the lilt in his voice that made me want to be difficult. I struggled to talk through heavy breathing, but I managed to choke out, "Don't... flatter yourself."

I don't quite know what I expected, but it was a bit of a shock to me when he hooked his thumb into my mouth and pressed down gently on my tongue, quickening his pace inside me and making me gasp out again.

"Aw... Are you not enjoying yourself?" he pouted without a single hint of sincerity; He knew I was.

I cried out and involuntarily closed my mouth around his thumb, my insides burning alive at all the sensations coursing through me. My cunt clenched around him, and he cried out himself, laughing softly as he did so. "That's what I thought..."

I wanted to watch him the way he watched me, to study his features and his movements and take it all in with reverence, but he was too fucking good at this. He was so skilled in the art of rendering me senseless, all I could do was lay there and take it. He gave himself to me in the most intimate, soul-crushing way, and I wanted to bask in it forever.

His other hand snaked along the inside of my thigh and held me open for him as he looked down, watching himself fuck me. I barely caught glimpses of his wandering gaze, wondering how he could be so focused when it was taking everything I had to stay cognizant. I blamed it on my lack of experience with good sex, and silently vowed to myself that one day I would return the favor.

Until then, I would lay at Spencer's mercy and take pleasure in the simple fact that he was willing to give me this― to give me a piece of himself that would no doubt ruin any other partner. He was setting the standard and exceeding it simultaneously. He was kind and caring and considerate. He was thorough and thoughtful.

And he was making me come. Hard.

The orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my body stuttering in quick, pulsing flashes of pleasure that got stronger and stronger each second. Spencer fucked me through it with ease, never missing a beat. His thumb slid out from my mouth and down my chin, allowing me to cry out for him all I wanted, which, seemingly was his goal.

"That's my good girl," he breathed, his voice tight. Perhaps he wasn't as put together as I thought. "Let it all out for me... Please..."

Please... God, that word sounded so good falling from his lips. It echoed in my mind as I gave him what he wanted, though not from choice. It was like his movements and his words were designed specifically to draw the sounds from my body. I would have given them to him anyway, but I didn't have to try, and that was the magic of it all. He knew exactly what would keep me mewling through the most intense pleasure of my life, and I was more than happy to allow him the pleasantry.

His orgasm came at the tail-end of mine, and though I was steadily growing tired at the exertion, I found the strength to clench around him again, recalling how he'd reacted before. I reached for his hand and allowed him to lace our fingers together as he came with a loud shuddering sigh.

Finally, I was able to focus, another chill running its course through my nervous system as Spencer pulsated inside me. His movements faltered as he spilled over, filling me so deep that I had no choice but to gasp again. My name sounded heavenly on his tongue as it danced in the air behind curses and sighs, and suddenly I understood why he enjoyed hearing my sounds so much. The warmth that bloomed in my chest as I watched and felt and heard him come undone above me delivered me to the most prideful of feelings.

I watched as his face relaxed, felt as his body eased and fell away from mine, and before I had time to even think of what to say, he was moving, kneeling at the end of the bed and spreading my legs again.

Oh, my God...

I couldn't even tell if I said the expression out loud, but I certainly felt its gravity in my bones, low and reverberating as Spencer inspected his work.

His fingers barely caught what had leaked out, and then his tongue followed suit, licking a gentle hot stripe up the seam of me. My fingers clutched at the comforter underneath me, searching for any sign of stability as my senses started to lose control once more.

"Darling," he praised, kissing the inside of my thigh, "you took me so well..."

I was halfway through telling him, "Thank you," when he started licking at my clit, making me stutter. He took his time, tasting me thoroughly while filling me with his fingers. Between drowning in the residual pleasure of my previous orgasm and also in the sounds he was making below me, it wasn't long before another one approached. It was sharp and quick, making my back arch up off the mattress as Spencer sucked my clit into oblivion.

Rather than incoherent cries of pleasure, the only thing that dared to leave my mouth at the sensation was a very loud, very appropriate, "Fuck!" to the evening air.

The curse tumbled out over and over again as the orgasm rocked through me, and he pulled himself away from me at the end of it with a shit-eating grin. "Such a dirty mouth..."

It took me a few seconds to catch my breath, shivering as he climbed back up on the bed and laid beside me. "You're one to talk, Doctor."

"I guess I'm a poor influence. Sorry."

It was mostly a joke, but I could tell that he believed there was some truth to his words. I did my best to reassure him, not only because he was my boss and I needed to reinstate the idea that we both made the decision to sleep together, not just him, but also because I secretly hoped he wouldn't regret the decision at all— regret me. Selfishly, I wanted to know if he'd consider keeping me around as more than just a nanny. I wanted to know if there was even a slight chance that this wouldn't end in total emotional disaster.

"You have nothing to be sorry for... Nothing..."

Spencer studied me for a moment, something settling in his eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it felt... warm. It was a different warmth than the searing heat that his gazes had radiated before. Perhaps it was wishful, foolish thinking, but I almost imagined it feeling akin to the realization that you were falling in love— the type of warmth that terrified yet excited you all the same, that triggered your nerves and also gave you hope.

It reminded me of that dangerous, beautiful hope that lingered in his smile every time he'd come home from a long day at work to see me and Benny safe and sound in the comfort of his home.

His hand gently brushed mine, I laced our fingers together, and that's when he finally responded.

"Neither do you, you know... I meant what I said. Every word." His fingers tightened in mine, and I felt myself become breathless again. "You're perfect. And I'm lucky to have you."

"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," I joked, trying to keep myself from crying in front of him. I didn't know why that was so important to me, especially considering just a few hours ago I'd decided not to hide the truth from him, no matter how emotional and teary of a truth it was.

Spencer pressed his forehead to mine, sighing my name through a smile. "You are... the best thing that has happened to me since Benny. I was afraid to admit it at the start, but... You're so good to him, and so good to me... I genuinely don't ever want to know what life would be like without you."

I couldn't help it then. My vision was suddenly obscured by tears, and I was blinking them away, letting him capture my lips in a tender kiss that rivaled any other.

I prayed in that very moment that there would be more like them in the future.

CODA: All My Rings Will Be Made of Gold.

Turns out, there had been plenty more, and then some.

It's hard to choose a favorite, though obviously I'm quite biased when it comes to my boys. So, I suppose it's easy for me to recall the night I got engaged as my favorite.

I wasn't nannying for Benny anymore; He was in school during the day (Kindergarten! I cried dropping him off on his first day, and Spencer had to console me with kisses and ice cream), and by that point I'd been moved into the apartment for almost a year.

I was out grocery shopping, and when I came home, there were flowers all over the floor, bright colors scattered in an obvious trail that led to the bedrooms. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but my heart still hammered in my chest, unable to shake that feeling of warmth and hope.

"Boys? What are you up to?" I called, dropping the bags off in the kitchen and following the flowers.

They were both kneeling on the floor of Benny's bedroom, Spencer with an open ring box in his hand, and Benny with a piece of paper in his.

"Will you be my mom?"

Really, how could I have said no? There isn't a world in which I ever would have, but even still. Benny was unable to sit still, waiting for me to answer him, and I remembered the night they presented me with that first birthday cake of many for years to come. He was the same way then, happier than ever to surprise me, and meanwhile all I wanted to do was burst into tears over how much love I was feeling.

Unlike that night, however, I was simply unable to tease him with the anticipation of an answer. I couldn't even pretend to consider it, not for a moment. It was the easiest answer I'd ever given. To this day, it still is.

Benny ran up and hugged me the tightest he ever had before, and Spencer got up from the ground to meet us, slipping a thin gold band on my finger as I repeated the word to him through the tenderest of kisses.

"Yes."

THE END.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #mercy after hours

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lov3lycosmos · 9 days ago

Text

The Love We Thought We Lost — H.H 𐙚

Genre: Angst/Smut

Pairings: non idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

Summary: after some rumors from a girl who likes hyunjin spread around the school that you were using him for money, he let you go only to realize he needed you.

Warnings: pet names, fingering, crying during sex (emotional), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it!), creampie, lots or praise, dirty talk (a little), and I think that's it?

Cosmos note: I saw a c.ai bot of a prompt similar to this (i wish i could find it again to link it) and thought I'd write something similar >.<

my library! (NOT PROOFREAD!!)

The first time Hwang Hyunjin saw you, he was sitting in the back of his private driver’s car, scrolling through his phone like his life didn’t belong to him. He’d just bombed another exam, fought with his dad over his future, and wanted to disappear. Then he looked up. And there you were—walking home with tangled headphones, hair windblown, nose red from the cold, balancing a chipped coffee cup and humming like life hadn’t crushed you yet.

You were nothing like his world.

And that was exactly why he needed you.

Everyone knew who Hyunjin was. He had that golden aura—money, face, reputation. Even his uniform looked expensive, like it’d been tailored. Everyone wanted a piece of him, and he gave none of it away.

Except to you.

You didn’t chase him. You didn’t try to impress him. You looked him in the eye when he passed you in the hall, unbothered and clear. It scared him. It hooked him.

One day he sat beside you on the bleachers during lunch and didn’t say a word. You offered him a bite of your sandwich.

That was it. He was yours.

What started as hushed texts turned into holding hands under cafeteria tables, stolen kisses behind stairwells, sketching in the art room with music playing low. It was quiet and precious and real.

He wasn’t your prince. He was your Hyunjin.

Until he wasn’t.

“I think you were just with me for the money.”

You still remember how the words landed. Not like a slap—more like a knife slipping through your ribs, quiet and fatal.

You stood there, stunned. You hadn’t even asked for anything from him. That bracelet? He bought it on a whim. The rides home? He offered. You never wanted his wallet.

You wanted him.

But he didn’t believe you.

He didn’t even let you speak.

You remember him walking away. You remember not chasing him.

What you don’t remember is how you got home that night. Or how long you cried after the door closed behind you.

You just remember seeing a photo of him with Sooah a week later. Her lipgloss on his collar. Her smile tucked under his chin.

That’s when you deleted his contact.

That’s when you started trying to forget.

Five months later, and your phone lights up with his name.

Your body still reacts before your brain does. That stupid skip in your chest. The sharp breath. The urge to throw the phone against the wall.

Your thumb hovers.

And then you pick up.

“…Hello?”

“Hey.”

The sound of him cracks something old and aching in your chest. He sounds winded. Softer than you remember. Like he’s been waiting hours for this.

You say nothing.

He exhales. “I—I know I’m the last person you want to hear from. But I had to call. I need to say it.”

Say what?

“I miss you.”

Your throat tightens. Your grip on the phone hardens.

“I didn’t believe her because I stopped loving you,” he says quickly. “I believed her because I thought you were too good for me. Because I was scared.”

“You were scared?” you whisper. “That’s your excuse?”

“No. There’s no excuse. I just—” He sucks in a breath. “You were the first person who ever looked at me like I was a person. Not a paycheck. Not a perfect image. Just me. And I still fucked it all up.”

You’re trembling. “You didn’t just fuck up, Hyunjin. You broke my heart.”

“I know,” he chokes. “I know, angel. And I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry every second since.”

A beat.

“I left her,” he adds. “Months ago. When I found out the truth.”

“…Why are you calling me now?”

“Because it’s eating me alive.”

The silence after that is deafening.

Then you whisper, “I can’t do this with you again.”

“I need to see you.”

“No.”

“I’m already on my way.”

“Hyunjin—”

The call ends.

Across town, soaked in rain and regret, Hyunjin stands outside your window wondering if he’s already too late.

The truth is… he never meant to let you go.

But five months ago, it didn’t feel like he had a choice.

Back then, his world was spiraling. His grades were slipping. His father—cold, ruthless, CEO of too much—had started threatening to ship him off to a boarding school in Tokyo if he didn’t “straighten out.” His mother stopped coming home. His friends weren’t friends; they were shadows who only laughed when he paid.

And you?

You were his one good thing.

Which is exactly why he thought he didn’t deserve you.

So when Sooah—a girl with fake lashes and a sharp tongue—came up to him after class and said, “She’s using you, you know. Everyone sees it but you,” something cracked in him. She said she overheard you talking to your friend. That you were tired of pretending to care. That you were just waiting for his next gift, his next ride, his next use.

He didn’t want to believe her.

But it planted a seed in his chest—a rotting, twisted doubt—and he let it grow.

Because it was easier to believe you’d break his heart eventually than to wait for the day it happened.

So he did it first.

He cornered you in the hallway. Picked a fight over nothing. Watched your face fall in real time when he said the words: “I think you were just with me for the money.”

He didn’t mean it.

He just needed an excuse.

He needed a way to push you away before you could leave him.

But what he didn’t realize until weeks later—when he found out Sooah had lied, when he saw you walking alone, headphones in, eyes red from crying—was that by trying to protect himself, he had destroyed the only person who ever saw him.

Not Hyunjin the golden boy.

Not the rich kid with the perfect face.

Just… Hyunjin.

And by the time he realized that, it was already too late.

You were gone.

But not anymore.

He can’t carry it anymore—the guilt, the weight of your absence, the sound of your voice in dreams. So he’s here. Now. Soaked and shivering and praying you’ll let him in, just long enough to say it right this time.

You stare at your phone like it might dissolve in your hand. The storm outside has picked up, rain ticking against the glass. You wrap your arms around yourself, heart punching your ribs.

You should block his number again.

You should slam the door in his face.

But twenty minutes later, when the sound of knuckles tapping against glass cuts through the storm, you're already standing at the window.

You peel back the curtain—and stop breathing.

Hyunjin.

Soaked. Hoodie clinging to his chest. Hair dripping in strands over his forehead. And those eyes… wrecked, wide, locked on you.

You crack the window an inch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

“You’re drenched.”

“I don’t care.”

“Go home.”

“I can’t.”

Your fingers tighten on the sill. “Hyunjin, you hurt me.”

“I know.” His voice breaks. “But I need to fix it. Please.”

You should slam it shut.

You should scream.

Instead… you open the window wider.

And he climbs in.

The second his feet hit the floor, the air in the room shifts. Rain drips from his sleeves. His chest is heaving. Neither of you speaks.

Then:

“You look the same,” he murmurs. “Except sadder.”

Your chin wobbles.

“I didn’t come to make you cry,” he says. “I just needed to tell you the truth.”

“Then tell me.”

“I was a coward,” he whispers. “You were the only real thing in my life, and I pushed you away. I thought if I ended it first, it wouldn’t hurt as bad when you left.”

You blink at him, heart pounding.

“I thought you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it,” he says. “And I hated that you had that power. So when Sooah said those things, I let myself believe them.”

Tears slip hot down your cheeks. You shake your head.

“I didn’t even ask you,” he chokes. “I didn’t even look at you and know the truth.”

You laugh bitterly. “You were supposed to know me, Hyunjin.”

“I know,” he whispers. “And I hate myself for it.”

Silence. Heavy. Raw.

Then he steps forward slowly, eyes on yours. “I’d do anything to take it back.”

Your breath catches.

His hand reaches for yours—and you let him take it.

“I’ve been lost without you,” he says. “Every second. I can’t sleep. I see you everywhere.”

You bite your lip. Your fingers are trembling in his.

“I miss your laugh. Your voice. The way you tug on my sleeve when you’re shy. I miss you, baby.”

He presses your joined hands to his chest, just over his heart.

And then he whispers, “I still love you.”

That breaks you.

A sob escapes your throat, and your knees give—but he catches you, arms pulling you against him fast, tight, like you might disappear if he lets go.

You cling to his hoodie, face buried in his chest, the smell of rain and regret and Hyunjin overwhelming you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, angel. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You don’t speak.

You just let him hold you while your heart slowly starts to ache in a different way.

A softer one.

A hopeful one.

You don’t know how long you stand there—how long you let Hyunjin cradle you like he’s terrified to lose you all over again.

It could’ve been seconds. Hours. A lifetime.

The quiet of your room is broken only by your breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek.

When you finally look up at him, the porch light from outside casts shadows over his face—his sharp cheekbones, the wet strands of hair clinging to his skin, the way his lips part like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

Your voice is soft, but raw. "Why did you believe her?"

His face crumples.

"Because I was scared," he admits. "Because I’ve never loved anyone like I loved you. And she said—she said things I was already scared of. That maybe I was just a convenience. That maybe someone like me couldn’t be loved for who I am."

You flinch, pulling back slightly. He doesn’t let you go.

"That’s not fair," you whisper. "You didn’t even ask me. You just... left."

His hands tighten on your waist.

"I know," he chokes. "I didn’t deserve you then. But God, I never stopped wanting you. I saw your number in my phone tonight and I—I couldn’t not try."

You swallow, eyes burning again. "And her?"

"Over," he says instantly. "She never meant anything. Not like you."

You breathe out, shaky. "It’s been five months, Hyunjin."

"Five months of hell. Five months of waking up with her and wishing it was you. Five months of trying to fill a space no one else fits."

The silence stretches again, thick with everything unsaid.

Until your voice cracks around the question you swore you’d never ask.

"Do you still love me?"

His answer comes like a confession. Like worship.

"I never stopped."

He leans in then—slow, careful, eyes locked on yours. And you don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t speak—because your body already knows.

Your lips meet his like a spark catching fire. Slow at first—gentle, searching. And then all at once: messy, desperate, teeth and tongue and the taste of tears.

His hands slide to your cheeks, his thumbs brushing over your skin, grounding you. You feel the tremble in his fingers.

When you break for air, he doesn’t pull back far.

"Let me stay," he breathes. "Just tonight. Let me show you what you meant to me. What you still mean."

You don’t answer with words.

You just nod.

And he kisses you again, this time slower, deeper—like a promise.

He leads you backward with gentle steps, never breaking the kiss, until the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed. His hands are warm on your waist, eyes searching yours like he needs to be sure.

"Tell me to stop. If this is too fast, or—"

You cut him off by pulling him closer.

"Hyunjin," you whisper. "Just kiss me."

And he does. Slower this time. Deeper. Like he wants to memorize every second.

He eases you down onto the mattress, his hand cradling the back of your head as your spine meets the sheets. He hovers over you, breath shaky, eyes full of something raw and reverent.

His touch is tentative at first—fingers ghosting over your sides, your arms, the curve of your hip. Like he's rediscovering you.

But you don’t feel like glass.

You feel like fire.

And he wants to burn with you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, his lips trailing down the side of your neck. He presses kisses along your collarbone, each one tender and filled with apology. His hands inch upward, slipping your shirt over your head before discarding it somewhere on the floor. His eyes darken as he takes you in.

“I missed you,” he says, almost like a confession. He dips down again, his mouth closing around one of your nipples while his hand gently cups the other. You arch into him, a gasp slipping past your lips, and his hips grind against yours reflexively.

You can feel him. Hard. Hot. And still fully clothed.

“Hyunjin,” you breathe, and your voice is enough to break whatever restraint he had left.

He sits back on his knees, stripping his hoodie and shirt in one fluid motion. You let your eyes drink him in—the lean muscle, the soft trail of hair leading downward, the bruises blooming where he’d been gripping himself too hard in frustration.

He undoes his jeans, but then pauses, eyes searching yours.

“I need to see all of you,” he says, voice low. “Please, angel.”

You nod, and he peels off the last of your clothes slowly, like he’s unwrapping a gift. When you’re bare beneath him, he exhales like he’s seen the sun for the first time in weeks.

Then he kisses you again, harder this time. Deeper. Like he’s claiming you all over again. One hand braces beside your head while the other moves between your legs, fingers dipping down to stroke you. You’re already wet, soaking, and he groans into your mouth when he realizes it.

“All for me,” he whispers. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

His fingers circle your clit slowly, deliberately, until your hips begin to buck. When he slides two fingers into you, curling them just right, you cry out, clinging to his shoulders.

He watches your face the whole time, his eyes dark with lust, but soft with something deeper—adoration. Like you're the most precious thing he's ever touched.

When he finally lines himself up at your entrance, he pauses. Leans in. Kisses your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

“I love you,” he whispers. “No matter how long it takes... no matter what we go through. It’s always you.”

He slides in slowly, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. The stretch burns at first, but it’s good—so good—because it’s him. And when he bottoms out, fully seated inside you, you both let out shaky breaths.

He doesn’t move right away. Just holds you, buried deep, his lips pressed to your temple.

“You feel like home,” he murmurs.

Then he begins to thrust. Deep, measured strokes that make you cling to him like he’s your lifeline. His hands cradle your hips, guiding you to move with him. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, along with his soft moans, and the broken gasps you let out beneath him.

“You’re mine,” he says between thrusts. “Always mine. I don’t care what happens. No one’s ever going to love you like I do.”

You sob his name, pleasure cresting with every movement. He’s hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back.

His pace picks up, hips snapping harder now, but never cruel—just aching, desperate, hungry. One hand snakes between you to rub circles on your clit again, and your body clamps around him like a vice.

“That’s it, angel,” he pants, his own rhythm starting to falter. “Cum for me. Please, baby. I need to feel you.”

You break with a cry, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. He groans, fucking you through it, eyes locked on your face like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“Fuck… I’m close… I—I love you… I’m so sorry,” he chokes, whimpering now. “I’m sorry, angel… I’m sorry…”

He spills into you with a desperate moan, his face buried in your neck, murmuring apologies and sweet nothings as he rides out his high, trembling in your arms.

You hold him, fingers threading through his hair, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. Not from sadness this time, but from the overwhelming fullness in your chest.

Love. Forgiveness. Him.

He lifts his head slowly, brushing your hair back. His eyes are red. His lips kiss your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, over and over.

“I love you,” he whispers again. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the ways I hurt you.”

And you believe him.

Because tonight, you were made whole again.

taglist: @vampzity @sooniedoongiedori25 @mhluvie @yaorzu-blog @lze325 @felixleftchickennugget @m-325 @lezleeferguson-120 @psychicyouthfox @pixie-felix @angel-writes-here @heechwe @galaxy4489 @minniesverse @gncbnahc

(I'M STILL ADDING PEOPLE TO TAG! comment on any post, send an ask or a message if you want added!)

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thinkinonsense · 8 months ago

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ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

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gojossugarcandy · 4 months ago

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To say your life has changed would be a huge understatement. In under the span of one week, you had found yourself a boyfriend and were already living together.

Ciaran was not only your boyfriend, but also a vampire. A very jealous, possessive, insecure and obsessed vampire.

Society always warns the younger generation to be wary of bad people. Nonchalance was the key to a healthy relationship and what not. Of course, being the youngster you are, you ignored all of those and were rather happy to have someone obsess over you.

It gave off a feeling of superiority.

But things quickly changed, a month in your relationship and you were already tired of it. And thus, you let your intrusive mind make a fatal decision for you.

Visiting your ex's birthday party. Without telling Ciaran.

You were sure had you informed him about this he would whine and start crying, these acts always had your savior complex kicking in. And he knew it.

It was the first week of new year, everyone at the party was giddy, excited and super drunk already. That everyone also included you.

Your number of drinks kept on going up and up along with those dirty eye contacts and stare downs with and to your ex.

He licked the cake from his fingers so seductively, it made your drunken brain want to ruin him right then and there.

And the consequences, well, you could blame it on your drunken mind. Or excuse it with 'I confused his face for my boyfriend' or so.

But halfway in those bedroom kisses, the window had flung open, with a cold breeze forcing its way inside.

And a man soon appeared there, the vibes he gave off were eerie.

Looking into his red irises, suddenly, a flashback occurred to you.

"Hey, you promise you won't leave me?" asked a certain red-eyed creature.

"No, never!" replied, a voice full of young love.

"Promise you won't lay eyes on any other men?"

"No, i would never, not when i have such a cute boyfriend"

"And what if you do?" Asked the boy, insecurely.

"Then, you can eat me up" said, his beloved, before jumping on him with a poor imitation of a monster's roar.

Both were laughing, the room was dark, with curtains blocking the sun's rays but the world still seemed pink and rosy to those two amateurs.

Fear, terror, horror took over you as you start backing away into a corner.

Your ex tried to punch the intruder only to be met with a swipe of his sharp nails.

Your ex started struggling on the floor, blood sputtered out of his wounds like a fountain.

And soon, his body stopped moving.

Your ex was now dead.

The heart-broken vampire, started walking slowly, his sobs a bit muffled out due to the party noises from the floor below.

"You killed him" you whispered, as your knees start buckling.

Your attention went to his nearing face, it had tears flowing out of his beautiful eyes.

And you felt the breath in your lungs knocked out of you as you were suddenly pinned to the wall, sharp nails digging into your shoulder.

"Why? Was I not enough?" a soft voice asked the inevitable question.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-I don't know what got over me" You start shaking as fear completely takes over your mind, tears forming in your eyes, body shivering - due to cold or fear or both, who knows?

"It's fine, you said i could eat you, if you ever betrayed me" he said, as he gave you a big smile, a creepy one.

"Nonononono-" before you could even stop him, a pair of sharp canines sank into your flesh.

It was followed by a mouth latching itself to that spot and blood being sucked

and sucked

and sucked out of it.

A while later, there lay in the room of birthday boy, the body of birthday boy and a lovely young lady who had decided not to heed the warning, the advice of elders. And an unhumanly creature, crying, staring at his now dead beloved.

"It's Okay

It's Okay

It's Okay! I'm Okay!! Because This Is What You Wanted!!!"

______________________________________________________________

@meo-eiru The image up there belongs to her. I really admire, adore, worship, words are not enough! creators like these as they draw such good drawing with their imaginations! Like damnnnnn! and then there is me. A person who likes drawing but is a huge failure. (I swear, my human faces look like monkeys😂🤣😂🤣) Anyway, seeing the image, I had like a context for it. I don't know if this is good or not. My previous stories are trash because I, like, had no motivation to write but just wanted to. But this one fanart fired my imagination up and I just started writing.

#yandere male #yandere darling #male yandere #yandere male x reader #yandere male x fem reader #male yandere x reader #yandere male oc #yandere male x you #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere #yandere vampire x reader #yandere ciaran x reader #yandere ciaran #ciaran x reader

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cherrxboy · 2 months ago

Text

I had this idea and I HAD to write it because I know my bitchass would NOT write it any other time (it's 5 in the morning and I haven't slept)

CW: explicit smut, I think - GN!reader - Mean!Satoru - uhhh rough seggs - Toru being an asshole - eating out/bj/whatever (reader receiving) - overstimulation I believe - a bit (probably a lot) of degrading/humiliation and stuff... he calls you a slut like two times - pet names used: baby, sweets, love - he refers to himself as "daddy" once but there's nothing else about that - mentions of death but like he's just joking - aftercare. (Not proofread) tell me if I missed anything!

English is my second language and I'm sleep deprived auauughh this is probably shit but I hope you enjoy hehe cause I personally love mean!Satoru he makes me go tehehehhehwojspsjpsj. Sorry if there are any typos ;((

♡

We've all read the fics, we've all seen the man, we've watched the show and I can't get this image outta my head, this little broken tape going off in my brain that Satoru is one of the biggest meanies when y'all are going at it. Doesn't matter what you are, what's in your pants, if you're giving or taking– he's mean.

Satoru is the type of guy that would keep you spread for him while he goes down on you, not caring if your thighs start to cramp or your legs feel sore. At some point it's not even about your pleasure anymore. He just wants to see how far he can push you, what new faces you can make, what little noises he can take out of you and Oh his favorite: how many times can he make you cum with just his mouth in a certain time limit.

He starts going and counts, each and every one of your orgasms, while also keeping track of the time. He's the strongest, he's definitely broken some records and one thing he really loves is breaking his own records. How many times can he make you cum in 15 minutes? How about 10? How about 2?!

"C'mon, love..."

"just one more, yeah? Oh I know, I know it's hurting but I'm almost breaking my last record, isn't that amazing??"

"Puh-leaseee? I'm making you feel good too, aren't I? Don't deny it, babe. I'm pretty sure everyone heard us with how loud you were being."

"No no no, I'm not saying it's baaad. Actually, makes me curious about how many noise complaints we can get in a week–"

Satoru is the type of guy to literally make fun of you while he's rearranging your guts. The type of guy that laughs in your face when you're crying all prettily, telling him that 'oh you can't take it' or how 'it's too big!' He's folding you in half at this point, not even letting you look away, hide your face in the pillows or anything as one of his hands keeps you still for him and the other holds onto your face, cupping you cheeks and squishing them together to make your face all pouty and adorable; you're just drooling and your eyes keep rolling back but Oh you better pay attention to him otherwise he's slowing down until you're begging for him to go faster and harder.

His thrusts suddenly become so weak and lazy and it's just not enough but he doesn't care, doesn't care that it practically hurts him too, he just wants to see you try and beg him to move with that fucked out lil brain of yours.

"Ah- Ah- Ah~! Harder, Toru! Puh-leaseee, faster, daddy!" As he giggles and mimics your voice (very horribly).

"Oh it's too big? But you're taking it so well, love, look at you! Shiiit~ I'm all the way in your tummy, see? Yeahhh well maybe you can't with all those tears but I definitely can."

"Hey, eyes on me, sweets– thereee we go~ Lemme see your pretty face, yeah?"

"What was that? Oh you're gonna cum? Again? That's a bit rude, baby, don't you think? You're being really greedy tonight. But it's okay, you can cum~ I'm feeling generous tonigt."

Satoru is the type of guy to pull on your hair when he's fucking you from behind, just to bring you closer to himself and make your back arch almost uncomfortably, just to whisper dirty ass shits in your ears that he knows would get you off.

He's got you on all fours and his free hand is on your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he pounds into you, sometimes giving it a little smack, groaning and moaning deeply against your neck and sometimes whimpering if you give a roll of your own hips as well. He's not shy and doesn't see why some guys hold back their moans... you seem to like it a lot, so he definitely won't stay quiet.

"Fuuuck baby~ you're so tight and so fucking warm– mmm! I'm gonna break you... uh-huh, you're gonna stay here in bed for at least a week, sweets. And I'm gonna take good care of you, yeah? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Staying here, full of my cum as we just cuddle and hide away from the world... I'll give you load after load, baby, as many as you want~"

"Taking my cock so fucking well, like a good little slut– no no no, don't you dare run away, sweets~ fuckkk... I can feel you squeezin' me, baby. You like when I call you that? Like when I treat you like the lil slut you are?"

"Oh fuck– please, give it to me sweets, please! Wanna feel you, baby, wanna feel you tightening up– shiiit.. just like that! I'm gonna fill you up so good~ just a little more, 'k? You can take it... yeah you can, good job~"

Satoru is the type of guy that's mean during sex but Oh so sweet afterwards. Man does not care how many rounds you've all been through or how tired he is... he's giving you a nice warm bath and a massage because he just can't have his sweet partner be in pain, can he?

He talks all that shit about making you unable to walk but god he thinks he'd die if he had to stay in bed with you for a whole day! He loves you, don't get me wrong. He loves spending time with you and just being with you merely in your presence but he's an active person to say the least and he can't just sit still for more than 10 minutes!

So you best believe he's giving you the best aftercare as soon as you guys are done. A glass of water to sooth your throat, soft towels to clean you up with, a nice warm bath along with a massage to make sure you won't be sore by the next few hours and finally he takes you to bed and cuddles you, kissing you all over your face and mumbling little "I love you"s again and again and again.

"You were so good for me today... such an angel. God, I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much. You're the best thing that happened to me. I love you... did I mention that I love you??"

"If you ever leave me I'm gonna cry myself to death and then haunt you in your dreams and possibly fuck you there if you let me. Sorry, was that too descriptive? I just love you so much, sweets. You can't blame a guy for loving his amazing wonderful perfect sexy partner, can you?"

♡

First post and it's a thirst daaaamn. I'm not making a good first impression y'all I'm sorry 😞☝️

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thinemoonshine · 3 months ago

Text

୨୧ 𝓵𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝓶𝐞, 𝓭𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝓵𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝓶𝐞 ୨୧

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ in which enhypen find themselves lost, listless in the dark tunnel they’re trapped in—and (y/n) is their light at the end of it

enhypen hyung line x fem!enhypen 8th member contents: fluff, enhypen clinging onto (y/n), men who yearn, crying, mentions of bad media, (y/n) comforts, heartfelt moments, enha and (y/n) are very affectionate and in love (whether platonic or romantic is up to interpretation) type: imagine

note: this work is based off of ૮꒰ྀིthis꒱ྀིა ask! and sorry i only included the hyung line :( for some reason my brain can’t think of continuations

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

“heeseung?” (y/n) mutters with confusion upon recognizing him through her door monitor.

he did ask if he could come but that was 5 minutes ago, he couldn’t already be here. but the sight of his black-masked face, capped and hooded head and doe eyes peering into the camera prove her otherwise.

she opens the door and heeseung steps inside without a word, not even a greeting and the door locks automatically behind him.

(y/n) looks up at his shadowed mien, unable to see his expression and his silence but she’s not the slightest bit intimidated. if anything, she’s worried.

“everything okay?” she asks and hee stays quiet just a little longer before wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek against her head.

he says nothing, just continuing to embrace her with a gradually tightening hold by the minute and she hears a small sigh escape him.

she doesn’t need to ask anymore. her hand reaches up to gently pat his back and he only pulls her closer against his chest. her legs are almost dangling, balancing on her toes from the unintentional hoist by heeseung as he clings and she wriggles to at least free her squashed face.

“want something to drink?” she offers and her soft voice albeit muffled rings in his ears like wind chimes and the jarring chaos in his mind goes mute.

his shoulders loosen and body turns limp against her as he drops his head onto her shoulder instead. “please.”

(y/n) chuckles with endearment and runs her hand down the back of his head—lifting his cap and hoodie in the meantime—and he hums at the feeling of her fingers massaging his overheated head.

“come on,” she says and pulls back while cupping his face—his lips jutted from her smooshing his cheeks—and she smiles at the sight of him blinking at her curiously, the knit between his brows now gone. “i have a lot of options to choose from.”

she spins on her heels again to walk ahead with a drop of her hands but just after her first step, he can feel a hand tugging against the back of her shirt. her chest lightens at the knowledge of heeseung clinging onto the fabric and the image in her head makes her chuckle and she continues on her way—not forgetting to offer him one of her hands from him to (very happily) accept by interlocking his fingers with.

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

clink!

the glass cup chimes slightly when (y/n) puts it down on jay’s bedside table.

he’s caught the flu—a really bad one—and seeing as how the others have gone out, she’s the only one available to take care of him which, in her opinion, isn’t bad at all. as much as she knows how capable the others are, she’s not sure they can nurse him without getting infected themselves or making it worse.

(y/n) gently pats jay’s heated skin with a damp towel and he stirs at that. his brows knit and lips part as a small strained breath escapes before his heavy eyes flutter open by the slightest to peer at her.

“sorry…” he croaks suddenly while she’s putting away the towel and she looks at him with soft confusion.

“what for?”

jay says nothing at first, tired and he gulps thickly. “for…burdening you. it’s your off day.”

(y/n) smiles at this and she cups his cheek—him leaning into the touch as he looks up. “i wouldn’t know what to do anyway so i’d rather take care of you any day.”

“you’re just saying that,” jay scoffs weakly, amused, but he can’t ignore the flutter he feels inside.

“i’m being honest!” the girl claims and pulls her hand away to cool his face down with the towel again. the noticeably heating skin making her worry.

jay doesn’t go back to sleep after, instead opting for watching her work as she combs his hair out of his face, fix his sheets and softly massages his hands and arms so they won’t be sore.

and suddenly, he finds his vision blurring as hot tears cascade down the corners of his eyes. his jaw’s clenched tight and he turns his face away to hide himself—a futile attempt.

“are you hurting? where is it?” she asks, concern painted on her face as she starts to run her feathery touch across his arms and shoulders to find the source.

jay only shakes his head and he inhales sharply to suppress his emotions but his debilitated self hinders him from following through. a tear turns to many and he swallows a sob into a croak.

“jay…?” (y/n) calls gingerly and cups his cheek to turn his face towards her—heart breaking at the sight of his glossy eyes and flushed, wet skin. “what’s going on?”

“it’s just t-tough,” he says vaguely. “i’m missing a lot. i—everything is just so hard. to catch up, i—”

he’s cut off by a strained sob and he brings the heels of his palms to press on his eyes. he’s not want to hide his tears, knowing that it’s a normal human thing and if any of the members was to cry, he’d rather them show it rather than hide.

but never did he imagine that what would set him off is the unabashed, limitless comfort that (y/n) spoils him with. never could he guess that the tenderness of her touches and attentiveness are what would wreck his dam—freeing the untamed turbulence of his mind.

it’s not just about being sick, missing schedules and having to catch up. it’s deeper than that—and all it took was (y/n) just being to unlock that.

and she knows.

“stop, i’m sweaty,” jay groans and pulls himself away when (y/n) started to lay herself beside him.

“i don’t care,” she chirps with a shrug and the other scoffs weakly—his lips pulling to a soft, amused smirk.

“well, you should because i’m sick and i’ll infect you,” he says hoarsely but the way his body turns and curls towards her belie his words.

she grins and brings a hand up to continue caressing his head—which he greatly favours if the way he nudges against it is any indication—before she pushes down slightly to bring him closer to the crook of her neck. “like i’d push away a chance to stay home.”

her joke manages to squeeze out a chuckle from him and the faucets of his eyes twist to a stop as his breaths deepen and relax the longer he stays in her embrace.

her scent and presence healing him more than any pills and syrup can ever achieve—his own arms curling around her and pulling her close almost to a suffocating level.

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

puppy. that’s the signature animal assigned to jake given his golden retriever tendencies and pretty, puppy eyes. not to mention the fluffy hair. but that’s all there is to it. just a label.

so why is it that he finds himself sitting outside (y/n)’s bedroom door at the vacation house like a dog put on time out?

with his knees to his chest, sad eyes staring at his toes and bottom lip jutted slightly as his mind both thinks of everything and nothing at the same time.

his eyes are wide open, awake despite the midnight hour and his ears are alert for any sound that might come from (y/n)’s room. the slightest creak makes him perk while every thud makes him turn his head quickly to check if the door’s opening.

he misses her. badly.

a while before, unable to fall asleep, he decided to do something that could make or break a celebrity’s day: search up his name. while most are of good things, he can’t simply ignore some that point out the bad—from finding the faults in his dance moves and flaws in his vocals—that absolutely kills his self-esteem.

even when these ‘negatives’ are sometimes exaggerated to the point of it actually being non-existent in the first place, he can’t help but feel belittled and…insufficient.

and in the moment, the first person that popped in his mind is (y/n). sadly, it’s 2 in the morning.

so all he can do is hide his face in his arms that are folded over his knees pulled against his chest—hoping, wishing that her presence behind the door is enough to satiate his longing.

“jake…?”

his head shoots up and he turns. an angel?

no. it’s (y/n) standing in the gap of her now open door with her oversized cartoon nightdress and a bird’s nest on top of her head. her eyes are squinting, weakened by the corridor’s light as she tries to focus on him.

“why are you sitting in front of my room?”

jake gasps softly, as if unbelieving of how his prayer has been answered and he’s quick to go on his feet. “i…wanted to see you.”

it doesn’t take a rocket genius to figure out something was wrong and she doesn’t hesitate to invite him in which he immediately accepts with his whole being—zooming through and standing in the centre of her room like a pole, waiting, before being pulled by her to sit on the edge of her bed.

“what’s up?” she asks in a murmur, the sleepiness still in her system and jake aches at the sight.

he didn’t mean to wake her. but as selfish as it sounds, part of him (most of him) can’t help but feel relieved and happy that she is.

“i just saw some comments online,” he quietly confesses as he fiddles with his fingers on his lap, embarrassed. as normal as it is, he can’t help but feel slightly ashamed that he’s so affected by some random onlookers online who probably have nothing else better to do.

yet, the moment he lifts his timid gaze up to her again, he’s almost given whiplash at how intense and sharp the glare she wears is. the drowsiness completely erased as she’s more taken by irritation.

but he knows it’s not for him. never for him. and that fact is already working as a balm to his burns.

“those people know nothing. and i mean nothing about you,” she hisses but is careful to keep her voice calm and her hands fly to cup his cheeks—smooshing them so his lips pucker and his eyes widen with surprise. she pulls him closer to her face. “they don’t know how much of a big sweetheart you are. how you’re so talented and skilled and overwhelmingly charming, handsome, beautiful that i don’t think you’re even real sometimes.”

her words make warmth spread from his chest and his cheeks start to glow a sweet red that you can almost see them even in the dim room.

“really?” he asks with a grin between his squished cheeks land (y/n) nods vigorously.

“of course! you’re such bundle of greatness that even i can’t compete with how much aura you got,” she jokes using the slang terms that make them both giggle but they know how much she actually means it.

jake’s grin seems permanent now and he lifts his hands to gently pull hers down from his face and interlock his fingers between. “you don’t have to compete. we can share.”

“oh? and you’re generous too? your great qualities are limitless!” she adds which he can’t help but titter shyly to before covering it up with a wiggle of his brows.

their soft chuckles fill the room before they’re enveloped in a calm, comforting silence.

her yawn breaks it momentarily after and jake’s just about to leave with a show of gratitude but he’s stopped when (y/n) mindlessly goes under the covers and pats the space beside her.

“slumber party~” she sleepily sings with a dopey smile and jake’s heart squeezes and pops at the sight.

slowly, he joins her and reaches to bring one of her hands to cup between his—hugging it like some kind of teddy bear as he nuzzles against it.

“thank you, (y/n),” he softly says, warm breath fanning over her knuckles when he suddenly hears a small snore escape from her.

he looks at her, surprised at how quickly she fell back to sleep before grinning, amused. his eyes fall back to her hand he holds, the noticeable size difference making him coo and he glances back up to check whether she’s still asleep before placing a loving tender kiss in her palm.

one that speaks many without words.

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

ding dong!

(y/n) heads to the door mid her night skincare routine, one hand still fixing her mask while the other presses on the monitor. “sunghoon?”

she swings the door open, able to recognize him even with the layers he wears and he lifts his head—revealing his round eyes and dark, luxuriant brows previously shadowed by his cap. “hey. you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

sunghoon shifts his weight from one foot to the other and his hands stuffed in his pocket try to dig deeper down if only his pants would allow it.

“sorry,” he muffles into the scarf wrapped around his neck and (y/n) shakes her head before opening the door wider.

“don’t be. you’re welcome anytime, i was just surprised,” she says casually with a shrug and steps back into her home let him in.

the door automatically shuts behind them and it chimes.

“make yourself at home. i’m going to finish my skincare and—“

she stops suddenly, both in her tracks and sentence before turning around with a cheeky tight-lipped smile. sunghoon blinks, also paused in the middle of freeing himself from his stuffy extra covers for discretion.

“what?” he asks, eyes wide with confusion.

“wanna do skincare with me? i’ll do all the work! you’ll be my customer like in a little beauty salon!” (y/n) offers and sunghoon’s scarf slowly drops from his shoulder as he thinks.

to be honest, he’d rather not. he wants to just lie down on the couch and rest peacefully as he basks in the cozy, homey atmosphere of (y/n)’s place.

so how’d he end up with a cold face mask on, a fluffy headband pushing his hair back and his hand being in (y/n)’s hold as she paints his nails with a serum?

“want more fruit?” she asks, focused on his fingers and he nods. without pulling her eyes away from his hand, she reaches behind to her coffee table, stabs a small cut of honeydew from its bowl before feeding it to his lips with great precision and sunghoon, still amazed as he was times before, opens his mouth to take it.

he watches as she intently applies the gloss onto his nails and cuticles, taking in the way her brows furrow slightly to how her jaw tightens and lips part whenever she realizes she’s gritting her teeth.

then suddenly she looks up and their eyes meet. his breaths hitch.

“hm?” she hums and sunghoon raises his brows in wonder before seeing his hand resting on her crown.

when did that get there?

sunghoon’s pale rosy lips part, wanting to utter the single word ‘nothing.’ like always. he can say ‘nothing.’

but why must he?

“thank you…for this. i didn’t know i needed it,” he starts and slowly pats her head. “i actually came because i was so…exhausted. i needed a break.”

he doesn’t need to specify what he means. the colours that have returned to his face, loosened shoulders and soft face speak volumes.

she’s noticed his desolate demeanor before when he came—how gaunt he was, with gaze near hollow and body language overall fatigued and strained—but she chose not to say. self care however, is one of the best home therapies she knows.

“you can rest as long as you want here,” she assures and sunghoon’s small smile stretches ever so slightly, shifting his mask and he brings his hand down to the side of her face to gently stroke her cheek.

“thank you,” he mumbles again, quieter now, almost like a mutter, and she nods before resuming her work and him resuming to watch.

he doesn’t know what exactly it is about her that allows him to be so vulnerable. whatever it is, it’s like she’s his lighthouse, saving him from going astray. a warm hearth during winter or a tongue freezing popsicle during the sweltering summer.

she’s his little respite. the first one he runs to, the first name on the tip of his tongue whenever he's losing touch with himself.

and it’s proven by how easily he finds himself falling asleep with his hand tightly holding hers and groaning softly whenever she tries to pull away. she scoffs, amused, with an endeared smile with a small whisper of “good night.”

480 notes · View notes

pukefactory · 24 days ago

Text

•☽────✧˖°˖ DOLPHIN OUTLETS ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Where You Find A Weird Creature That Ends Up Becoming Your Emotional Support Animal

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You found the creature curled up behind a slot machine in the Casino, lapping up spilled emotional residue from a busted empathy dispenser. It was the size of a bowling ball with dozens of blinking eyes and a sweet, yeasty smell like rising dough. You didn’t name it; it named itself. “Jeremy.” It sang it in three-part harmony. ENA tilted her head, red side smiling. “Huh. Strange. You’re usually the emotional support.”

☆ Jeremy (it refuses any name other than Jeremy, even if you try “Peanut” or “Bug”) communicates via static, blinking, and on rare occasions, vomiting up symbolic objects. Once, when you were anxious, it coughed up a tiny umbrella and whispered “grief is a drizzle.” ENA clapped in delight. “Oh, he’s fantastic! He’s like a weather report but for your psyche!”

☆ ENA’s Salesperson side quickly formed a bond with Jeremy, conducting little mock interviews with it. “Jeremy, could you tell us more about our friend’s emotional stock performance? How’s the self-esteem index looking today?” She gives it a pretend microphone. Jeremy chirps. The Meanie side, meanwhile, stands stiffly to the side, muttering, “He smells like tax fraud and dreams. I hate him. He’s my best friend.”

☆ When you have bad days, Jeremy inflates like a balloon and drifts beside you, humming a warbled lullaby. ENA finds herself watching you with a strange fondness then—softened, awkward. “You know,” she says, trying to sound neutral, “If you ever decide to die emotionally, I’d be happy to hold your funeral. Just to get some closure.” Pause. “Kidding! But also… not really.”

☆ Jeremy is not consistent in shape. One day he sprouts six crab legs and scuttles across the ceiling. Another, he’s translucent and filled with wriggling hands. ENA is delighted every time. “You’re both like an unlicensed petting zoo of existentialism!” she says, clapping. You glance up from your tea. “Thanks?” She beams. “High praise.”

☆ There was an incident where Jeremy duplicated himself during a panic attack. You ended up with eight mini-Jeremies forming a support group. They made ENA the guest speaker. She didn’t know what to say. She launched into a speech about hope as a pyramid scheme. Her Meanie side cried halfway through. You brought juice boxes.

☆ Jeremy loathes the Genie and flattens like a deflated balloon whenever he’s near them. ENA interprets this as a deep spiritual truth. “Maybe he knows something we don’t.” You raise a brow. “Like what?” She leans in, voice echoing: “That the Genie is a metaphor for urination and repressed trauma.” Her Meanie side throws a shoe at Jeremy. “YOU’RE NOT A LICENSED THERAPIST!”

☆ When you’re asleep, Jeremy sometimes whispers your dreams aloud in real-time. ENA listens in, wide-eyed. “You dreamed about a store that sells approval.” Pause. “Wanna tell me what that’s about, sweetheart?” She doesn’t judge you. She just tilts her head and stores it away like data. Like you’re an ecosystem. Like she wants to know how your weird brain works.

☆ One day, Jeremy got sick. Or… corrupted? Glitched? His mouth became a looping zip file, his eyes turned inside out. You panicked. ENA didn’t. “Wait. Wait. I read about this in the Book of Marketing Maladies!” She pulls a business card from her sock. It reads: “To fix a broken comfort, offer it your own.” She gently places her cap on Jeremy’s head. It glows. You cry.

☆ After a particularly dangerous encounter with the smoke, Jeremy absorbed some of it and began to leak phrases like, “the Boss is in your bones” and “inventory your grief.” ENA took you aside, very quietly. “If he ever starts saying your name backwards, don’t panic. That just means he’s bonded with you. That’s love, here.” You asked, “Is this love, too?” She looked at you. Salesperson side warm. Meanie side quiet. “…I hope so.”

308 notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

Note

Just watched s2 ep14&15 and when I tell you I cried my eyes out I mean it. Poor baby has to go through so much and alone and all the flashbacks😭😭😭😭. What hurt more was that he had to hide his drug addiction.

So for my mental peace could you write a fic where in female!reader x spencer (established relationship) where she immediately runs to him when they hear the gunshot not caring about precautions and gives him the biggest, protective hug and Spencer just just won't let her go and she wouldn't pull away too and when they reach back home she goes to his place and he breaks down in her arms and tells her everything and she stays with him the whole night everyday helping him through his addiction and withdrawals.

I know it's super long request 😭😭😭😭. Feel free to ignore it though. Love you and your writing! ♥️

Now I'm gonna cry myself I guess, wohoo😶‍🌫️

aftermath — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , spencer having withdrawals, mentions of tobias' body ( and tobias himself ) , mention of guns and dilaudid , spencer and reader both cry a/n: hii ! hope you like this <3 this hurt my heart i'm ngl - i didnt rewatch the entire ep and instead just watched clips on youtube so if i got anything wrong lmk

The world stopped the moment the gunshot cracked through the air.

It was like someone had ripped the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you hollow, suspended in a single, suffocating second. Your brain short-circuited, thoughts reduced to a frantic, broken chant no no no no no.

And then you were running.

The graveyard was a sea of shadows, the cold night air biting at your skin as you sprinted blindly between the headstones. Somewhere behind you, Hotch was shouting your name, but it barely registered.

The only thing that mattered was Spencer.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Your voice was raw, frantic. The syllables tore from your throat as you stumbled forward, feet crunching against the dirt and fallen leaves.

The images wouldn’t stop—the live feed flashing before your eyes, Tobias Hankel standing over Spencer, the way he had grabbed Spencer. The moment the screen cut to black, leaving only suffocating silence.

You weren’t sure if the trembling was from the cold or the fear or both. But then—then you saw him.

Spencer. Standing. Alive.

His body rigid, unmoving, as he stood over Tobias Hankel’s lifeless form. His shoulders heaved with each breath, the gun still clutched in his shaking hands.

You didn’t hesitate. You ran to him, feet barely touching the ground, and when you reached him, you collapsed into him with all the force of your desperation.

He froze.

For one agonizing second, he was still, his entire frame wound tight with tension. But then his arms came around you, clutching, grasping—his fingers twisted into the fabric of your jacket. He pressed himself against you, as if trying to mold himself into your skin, as if fearing that if he let go, you would disappear.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely more than a breath. The words burned in your throat, strangled by the lump of tears you hadn’t even realized you were holding back.

Spencer didn’t say anything. He just held you. Tightly. Desperately.

Like if he held on hard enough, maybe he could push away the horrors of what had just happened. Like if he crushed you close enough, maybe he could become part of you, escape himself for just a moment.

You could hear the rest of the team arriving. They didn’t pull you away and they didn’t tell Spencer to let go.

Spencer wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t. Not that you wanted him to let go.

His fingers were still twisted into your jacket, holding on with a force that felt desperate, almost painful. His whole body trembled against yours, breaths uneven, shallow, like he was trying to convince himself he was still here. That you were still here.

You tightened your arms around him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his damp, disheveled curls. You felt the way he shuddered under your touch, a broken sound escaping from somewhere deep in his chest.

Spencer still hadn’t spoken. He just held you, clung to you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

So you stayed. You stayed in the middle of that graveyard, with the smell of gunpowder still lingering in the air.

Slowly—so slowly—his breathing evened out. His fingers unclenched slightly, though he still refused to release you. And then, finally, his voice, rough and barely audible, whispered against your skin:

"You came."

As if there had ever been any other option.

You tightened your hold on him, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, your reply muffled but unwavering. "Always."

You weren’t entirely sure when you stopped hugging.

Everything was a blur, a hazy, disjointed mess of moments slipping through your fingers like sand. It felt like you were barely in your body, like you were watching yourself move from somewhere far away.

At some point, you ended up in the car.

You didn’t remember how you got there—whether someone guided you or if your feet had just carried you on their own. The only thing that mattered was that Spencer was with you.

The car was silent. The hum of the engine was distant, muffled, as if you were underwater.

Your hand was in Spencer’s, fingers entwined, his grip loose but persistent—like he was afraid to hold too tightly but even more afraid to let go. He leaned against you, head resting against your shoulder, his body barely moving. He didn’t speak. Didn’t shift. Didn’t react to anything around him.

He just clung to you. And you let him.

You didn’t break the quiet. What was there to say?

The words would have been hollow, anyway—useless against the enormity of what had almost happened.

Occasionally, a tear would escape, tracing a slow, burning path down your cheek. You didn’t wipe it away. You just pressed a kiss to the top of Spencer’s head, your lips lingering in his tousled hair, breathing him in like a reminder—he’s here, he’s alive.

And when his grip tightened, when his breath hitched almost imperceptibly, you murmured it into the space between you: "You’re safe now."

A promise. A plea. A prayer.

Spencer didn’t respond. But he held on a little tighter.

Hotch drove you to Spencer’s apartment in silence.

You managed to give him a small, strained smile as you stepped out of the car—though you weren’t entirely sure it even registered as one.

But Hotch understood. He always did. With a barely perceptible nod, he lingered just long enough to ensure you both made it inside before pulling away.

As you stepped inside, Spencer was still eerily quiet. His hand was still in yours—or maybe yours was in his. You weren’t entirely sure anymore. Neither of you had let go, and at this point, you weren’t sure who was holding onto whom.

The apartment felt different. Usually, it was a place of comfort. But tonight, it felt hollow.

You weren’t sure what to say, and honestly, you were afraid that if you tried, you’d break. That the moment words left your lips, you’d start sobbing, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

Instead, you focused on the mundane, the mechanical—the things you could control.

Gently, you helped him out of his dirt-streaked jacket, your fingers brushing over the fabric, lingering on the faint traces of dust and dried blood. Your throat tightened, but you swallowed it down, hanging the jacket up.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow, you’d wash it. Tomorrow, you’d erase the evidence of tonight.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you whispered. You weren’t sure why you whispered.

Spencer shook his head.

“Okay,” you murmured, soft as a sigh. “That’s fine.”

The paramedics had already taken care of his injuries, cleaned the gash on his forehead, patched up the cuts and bruises along his body. But they couldn’t do anything for the way he felt.

So you did the only thing you could. You took his hand again and gently pulled him toward the bedroom.

He didn’t resist. Didn’t say a word. Just followed.

Usually, you would have made a teasing remark about how cute it was that Spencer kept following you around.

Because he did—a lot.

Just last week, he had hovered around you the entire time you were making breakfast, standing so close that every time you turned, you nearly bumped into him. You had giggled, playfully nudging him away, but he had just smiled that shy little smile of his and stayed right where he was.

Now, the memory carved a hollow ache in your chest.

Because now, this wasn’t the same.

Now, he wasn’t following you because he wanted to be near you. He was following you because he needed to. Because if he let go, if he lost contact with you for even a second, he might slip away entirely.

You pulled one of his sweaters from the dresser. Turning, you found him standing too close, his hands clenched at his sides, still wearing the vest that smelled of gunpowder and damp earth.

"Can I?" you asked softly, fingers brushing the edge of the blood-red fabric.

Spencer's gaze flickered up to yours—just for a second—but it was enough. His lips trembled. His breath hitched.

Your hand was on his cheek before you could think, thumb swiping away a tear before it could fall.

That was all it took.

A shattered gasp tore from his throat, raw and broken, and then he was collapsing against you, his entire body wracked with sobs. You caught him without hesitation, arms locking around him as his knees gave way.

"I thought—" His voice was fractured, muffled against your shoulder. "He made me choose, and I—I couldn't—"

You cradled the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

Words poured out of him like a flood—Tobias's taunts, the cold press of the gun, the paralyzing fear of being forced to decide who lived or died. His hands clutched at your shirt as he spoke.

"I kept thinking of you," he choked out, the words raw and fractured. "If I died there—if you had to watch—"

You squeezed your eyes shut against the image, your stomach twisting violently. Just the thought of it—of seeing that live feed cut to static, of waiting for news that never came, of losing him in the cruelest way imaginable—made your hands tighten instinctively around him, as if you could physically shield him from the memory.

"Don't," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please, don't—"

But he kept going, the words tumbling out like he'd been holding them back for hours. "I kept seeing your face. I kept thinking—God, I kept thinking about how you'd be the one they'd call. How you'd have to—" His breath hitched, a ragged sob tearing through him. "How you'd have to identify me."

A wounded noise escaped you before you could stop it. Your fingers curled into his hair, pressing yourself tighter against him as if you could fuse the horror out of him through sheer proximity.

"But you didn't," you said fiercely. "You're here. You're alive. You came back to me."

Spencer shuddered, his hands gripping your arms like a lifeline. "I almost didn't."

The quiet admission shattered something in you.

You pulled him closer, your lips pressing against his temple, his cheek, anywhere you could reach—as if you could kiss the pain out of him, as if you could rewrite the last few hours with nothing but your touch.

"But you did."

You swallowed back the sob clawing at your throat, pressing your lips together to keep it from escaping—but the tears came anyway, silent and relentless, spilling over as you carded your fingers through his hair.

Each stroke was a silent plea. I’m here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.

But the more you touched him—the more you felt the way his breath hitched under your palms, the way his shoulders trembled against you—the harder it became to hold yourself together.

His hand was still clinging to your clothes, fingers twisted into the fabric so tightly that you were sure the wrinkles in your shirt would never come out.

But as he continued speaking, something in the back of your mind stirred, and it hit you like a slap.

Spencer wasn’t sober yet.

The paramedics had warned you. They had told you that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. That the drugs still lingered in his system, and that within the next hour, he’d likely start feeling the withdrawals. His shaking wasn’t just from fear or trauma—it was the first signs of what was to come.

Spencer stopped talking.

His words trailed off before he got to the part where he’d killed Tobias Hankel.

He was so shaky in your arms now, and you could feel the tension in his muscles, like he was about to collapse, like his body couldn’t handle any more of this. You weren’t even entirely sure how you were managing to hold him up. Your own legs felt weak, your arms trembling from the strain, but you kept him steady, keeping him as close to you as you could.

You stayed the entire night. Not that you could sleep anyway.

He was still in your arms when you went to bed, his body trembling against you, and you were doing your best to stay calm. Your hand continued to gently brush through his hair, a small, consistent motion that, in some way, calmed both of you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body was fighting against the withdrawal.

The withdrawals were bad. Worse than you had imagined.

Spencer was trying so hard. You could see it in his face—tight with strain, eyes glazed with discomfort, tears streaking down his face, though he didn’t make a sound. His body was shaking uncontrollably now.

The tears that streaked down his cheeks broke something inside of you. But you didn’t let go. You wiped them away with your thumb, whispering soft reassurances even though you weren’t sure if he could hear you, even though you weren’t sure if they made a difference.

It was hard. Watching him go through this, knowing how much pain he was in. How much more he still had to face.

But you also knew that if he could fight through this, even just tonight, it would mean everything.

The night stretched on like that.

One moment he was burning up, his skin fever-hot beneath your palms. The next, he was shaking violently. You smoothed back his damp hair, murmuring nonsense comforts against his temple as he curled into you, his fingers digging into your waist.

"I'm here," you whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, pressing a kiss to his head. "You're doing so good, Spencer. So good."

Somewhere around 3 AM, he'd stopped fighting consciousness.

The moment his body finally gave out had been both heartbreaking and relieving - his muscles going slack all at once, his head lolling heavily against your shoulder. You'd adjusted carefully, shifting just enough to pull the blanket over his shaking limbs without disturbing him.

Now, with morning creeping through the blinds, you studied the way the light caught on the healing cut above his eyebrow, the bruises along his jawline turning from angry purple to dull yellow at the edges. Your thumb hovered over them, not touching, just tracing the air above the evidence of his suffering.

You watched the way his eyelashes fluttered with dreams you hoped weren't violent, the way his lips parted slightly with each exhale.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position. His fingers, even in sleep, twitched against the fabric of your shirt, as if making sure you were still there.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, watching over him, listening to his breaths as morning slowly filled the room.

Eventually, you felt yourself start to drift, your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

But just before sleep could pull you under, Spencer stirred. His voice was barely audible, hoarse from everything his body had endured.

“…You’re still here?”

The words were so soft, so vulnerable, that they nearly shattered you.

You tightened your hold on him, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

“Always,” you whispered.

And with that, he sighed—a slow, tired sound yet filled with relief.

The road back to normal wasn’t easy—not by a long shot. If anything, there were more nights like that one than you could’ve prepared for.

Nights filled with restless sleep, quiet tears, and Spencer clinging to you like you were the only thing tethering him to reality. Healing didn’t come in a straight line.

But slowly—so slowly—it got better.

There were mornings when he smiled before he even opened his eyes. Afternoons when you caught him humming to himself while flipping through one of his worn-out paperbacks. Little things.

Beautiful, quiet victories.

And then, one day, without thinking, you found yourself teasing him again when he followed you from room to room like a lost puppy—hovering behind you as you made coffee, bumping into you in the hallway, trailing your every step just to stay close.

He blushed, like he always did, and mumbled something about spatial awareness. But when you laughed and tugged him close, he smiled for real—soft and shy, but full of something that hadn’t been there for a long time.

Hope.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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tom-whore-dleston · 20 days ago

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Warning: 18+ Joaquin Torres thots; mdni

Just imagine how sex with Joaquin would be like before he goes on a mission. You both are already so in love with each other that neither of you could keep your hands off each other. His kisses would be heated and passionate, leaving your lips swollen from him biting and sucking them. On top of that, he'd mark your skin with his teeth and tongue.

"Something to remind you of me while I'm gone. Once I'm back, I'll give you some more, 'kay, cariño?" Joaquin would murmur into your ear, making you melt against him before he could touch you with his hands. And, boy, were his hands talented.

Joaquin loved propping you in front of a mirror so you could watch him tease and pleasure you from behind. You sat on his lap at the foot of the bed with your legs spread open in front of the mirror. Whether naked or fully clothed, he'd rub your clit in small, slow circles, while his other hand played with your nipples or grabbed your neck, lightly squeezing. His dick would harden underneath you as you squirmed from his touch, causing him to chuckle darkly. You both would keep your eyes focused on each other through the mirror until you were twitching and crying out.

Yet, Joaquin didn't stop there. He would lay you down on the bed, keeping your legs open and kneel down before you. He'd suck the skin of your thighs before dragging his tongue over your wet pussy. As he ate you like the last time he'd ever taste you, he'd grab your hips, pulling you closer to his face, intoxicated by your scent. If you'd try to fuck his face or pull his hair, he'd pin your hips down hard on the bed.

"Be a good girl and take what I give you."

And you did. Every single time. Until his mouth and chin were coated in your slick. Joaquin always looked so sexy after he had eaten you out, the image being ingrained in your brain while he was away from home.

As for the way he fucks you, he is ruthless, but still making sure you are safe and comfortable. Joaquin loved trying out different postion that would drive you both crazy. Seeing your body arched and curved in different shapes as you moaned his name always egged him on to fuck you harder and faster. He loved spanking your ass, pulling your hair, and kissing you in any position you were in.

Watching you come always got him to come right after you. The moment you would cream around his cock, shaking and screaming in bliss, Joaquin would let out a hearty growl and his strokes inside you would become rough and out of rhythm.

He loved shooting his cum all over your face, letting it drip into your mouth and onto your chest. He has a whole photo album on his phone of you covered in his cum that he likes to look at while he is away from you. After a few minutes of laying in the afterglow of sex, Joaquin would pull you into the shower with him, cleaning off the sweat, saliva and cum off each other. Sometimes, you'd go for round two in the shower, depending on how badly you wanted to savor each other.

No matter how long Joaquin was out on a mission, you missed him dearly from the moment he left until he would arrive on your doorstep with his sweet smile and open arms. But the marks on your body and the lingering feel of his touch would remind you he was never too far and he'd always come back to give you more of what you craved.

we're back baby! I missed writing so much and honestly this isn't my best, but thank you Joaquin for being the most amazing muse <3 :')

#joaquin torres #the falcon #danny ramirez #tfatws #captain america brave new world #captain america 4 #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #the falcon x reader #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fanfic #joaquin torres fic #danny ramirez x reader #danny ramirez smut #smut #female reader #reader insert #no y/n

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try-set-me-on-fire · 1 month ago

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stay, stay

1161 word // rated g

based on 8x15 and 16 speculation

At 8:36 AM, Maddie's phone rings.

She tries to breathe through the way her stomach drops, tries to stop the way her brain flies through calculations — it's morning but not that early, what time of day means an unexpected phone call is an emergency, where is everyone, is everything okay — and pull on the practiced calm she wears over her cardigans every day at work.

She looks at her phone. Eddie. So it is an emergency, then. She brings the phone to her ear and her hand hardly shakes. “What's happening?”

“Maddie,” Eddie says, and she recognizes a practiced calm in his voice, too, strained almost to the breaking point. “No- it's okay, it's okay.” This is not addressed to her. There are- other sounds over the line, and it only takes a few moments for them to resolve into her brother, hurting. “Buck- I'm sorry, Maddie, could you get over here? I don't want to leave him- I- I have to go to work, it's my first shift back- I don't want to leave him.”

“I'm on my way,” she responds, and doesn't bother wading through goodbyes as she hangs up the phone and grabs her keys.

She finds them in the kitchen. Buck had given her a house key a few weeks ago, and Eddie hadn't thought to ask for it back in the days since he's returned to the city. She lets herself in and follows the sounds — Buck hurting, Buck hurting — until she finds them, Buck in a chair like he collapsed there, like it's the only thing in the world keeping him up off the ground. Or- not the only thing. Eddie is not quite kneeling, not quite standing, bent over and sort of tangled with her brother, limbs all over and moving, an image that takes a moment to puzzle out.

“You can't,” Buck is saying. Pleading. His fingers in Eddie's shoulder look like they'll leave bruises.

“Buck,” Eddie says, a softer sort of despair. His hand is very careful on Buck's chin. They're almost close enough to kiss, and Maddie wonders- but, no. It wouldn't be now. She wishes they had done so before- before. She doesn't know if it would have changed anything, but Buck would have maybe had some happy thing to cling to as he drowns. “Buck, I have to go, I have to-”

“You don't.” Buck's eyes are red and he's cried — is crying — so hard his whole face looks wet. “Eddie- Eddie-”

“It's my first shift back, Buck, I can't call out already. Bo-” Eddie briefly closes his eyes against almost saying that name. “No one's back yet, I don't have anyone to cover for me. I have to-”

“Please,” Buck begs on a sob, “Please, please-”

“Sweetheart,” Maddie finds her voice. She never thought it would fail her so frequently. Especially not here, not with the first person she ever learned to take care of. “E- Buck, it's okay.” She's at their side, she grabs onto Buck's arm. He's practically rattling under her touch. “It's going to be o-”

“It's not,” Buck says. “You don't know that,” Buck says. “He- he'll- he'll die, Maddie, he'll die, he'll die-”

“I won't,” Eddie says. He is kneeling now, hands still reaching up to Buck's face as he hovers below them, trying to keep in the line of sight of Buck’s ducked head. “Buck- it's not like that- it's not going to be like that-”

“You don't know,” Buck says. It's almost- he almost retches the words. They sound painful coming out, and Maddie can feel him convulse now that she's got both arms around him. “I won't be there- I won't be there-” another sob, catastrophic. “You won't be safe. I- I- I can't make it- I can't make you safe.”

Eddie's hands touch Buck's cheek bones, his shoulders over Maddie's crossed arms, his elbows, his hands, grab on there and hold tight. “Buck. I'm going to be as safe there as I possibly can. This is our team, we have to trust-”

“I will never forgive you if you leave.” It's a line Jee has used before when Maddie or Chim are on the way out the door in the morning and she's unhappy about it, and Buck delivers it with the same amount of absolute fury and conviction. And it's sort of heartbreaking to hear, like it is when her toddler says it, but Maddie expects Eddie to react like she and Chimney do: I'm sorry, they say. I'm so sorry, and I love you so much, and I'll miss you all day, but you know I have to go to work and you know I'll see you soon.

Eddie sits back on his heels, hands dropped to his thighs, eyes wide. His face clouds, a… worried, or scared, or sad crease forming between his eyebrows. Then his face clears. “It's not important,” he says, almost to himself. “I came back here because- I mean- what was all the point of it, then? If I'm just-” He blinks. Puts his palms on Buck’s knees. “Work isn't what's important. Here is what's- you're the important thing,” he says. “Okay,” he says, standing up, hands on Buck's face again. “Okay. Buck.” His face is very serious. “I am going to my next shift. I'm not staying away forever. Okay?”

Buck tries to look away but his face is so gently trapped. He nods, just barely. Maddie can't see his expression from this angle.

“Okay,” Eddie nods back. “But I'm going to call out today.” Maddie can see Eddie's expression. Worry, still, but also determination. Love, very plainly. “Family emergency. I’m staying home. I'm needed here. ”

Buck nods more enthusiastically this time, almost feverishly, relief slumping his forward, pulling him out of Maddie's arms to where Eddie is waiting to be rested against. And Eddie's arms come up around him, his hand tangles in his hair.

“I'm sorry,” he says, and she thinks he's talking to Buck until he says “I called you all this way for nothing.”

“Not nothing.” Her voice sounds wet, she wipes away tears she didn't know she was crying.

“Not nothing,” he agrees softly. Buck somehow looks small in his arms. He looks safe there. “It's okay,” he says, and this time she almost nods before realizing the words aren't for her benefit. She still sort of believes them, though, watching him hold her brother. Eddie loves him. Eddie's going to take care of him, because Eddie understands him, and knows how to do it. She feels like slumping in relief, too. It’s not just her anymore. It hasn’t been, for- maybe a while. Finally, finally, the life he's been so long looking for. They all just have to hold onto him long enough for him to find his way back to it.

“It's okay,” she echoes. She rests her palm over the top of Buck’s spine. “It's going to be okay. We're right here.”

#my writing #911 spoilers #buddie #maddie han #Eddie Diaz #evan buckley #tapped this out on my phone at like 1 am last night lol have fun #buck breakdown baybeeeeee

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igotanidea · 11 months ago

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Haircut: Jason Todd x reader

Inspired by the post from @pop-culturereference about what Jason's fans really want from DC (link here)

***

„AH!!”

An involuntary scream left her mouth the second she came home. Jason was not used to his girlfriend being so expressive, but protective instinct kicked in as he jumped off the couch he was reading a book on and immediately rushed to her side.

“Y/N! Love, what happened?” his hands found hers, squeezing them gently, trying to ground her in reality and assure her that whatever scared her so much was no match for him.

“What happened to you?” she sobbed, not even trying to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

“Huh?” Jason frowned “Look, I know I’m not exactly model handsome, but—”

“WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!” she wailed as if someone was tearing her heart out or squeezing her lungs.

“What are you--?” he tried again, quite taken aback by the intensity of her emotions. She wasn’t ever crying this much when he came home bloodied and bruised. She never let a single muscle on her face twitch while patching him up. But when he was okay, just chilling and for once – not getting into trouble she got into a waterfall mode. “Y/n? Look at me. Look at me!” he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.

“I AM!”

“Then you can see I’m all good. It’s all good! Come on baby, whatever fear took over your brain, you have to wake up from this!”

“Your hair!” she broke into crying fit again

“My hair?” he instinctively ran his fingers through his strands. “What about them?”

“WHERE IS IT?”

Oh.

Oh, so finally they were getting to the bottom of the problem.

He cut his hair shorter than she was used to and clearly she didn’t like it.

“Look, I just thought-“

“Was it Roy? I’m sure it was Roy. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him! How is it that I leave you guys for a few hours and you always end up causing trouble.”

“It was not—”

“Then who was it? Dick?”

“Ugh! As if I would ever let him anywhere near my head!”

“Then who helped you did this atrocity?” she pressed, taking a look at his inch-long strands.

“I did it myself.” He responded, almost sounding proud.

“You-you-yourself…?” Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stuttered. Her bag was dropped to the ground with a concerning sound of rattling, but neither of them care about the possibility of something being crashed. They had more urgent matters at the moment. The sense of betrayal slowly started creeping inside her heart.

“It’s just hair—”

“Just hair?! Are you insane?” she snapped at him “You should have asked me what I think first!”

“But—”

“Do not argue with me, Jason! You’re my boyfriend! It is not just about what you like! You can’t just act on whims without finding out my approach to the matter!”

“It’s just hair—” once more, the poor attempt at reaching her reason failed.

“How am I supposed to run my fingers through it now? And how am I supposed to live without your mop tickling me when we cuddle?”

“Y/n…” he smiled softly, cupping her cheek, meeting her eyes

“I liked them longer… I’m sorry if that hits your insecurities, but—”

“It does make me a little unsure, not gonna lie.” He chuckled. “But only a little. Cause what I’m hearing now, is that you liked my wilder look. For example when I was taking the hood off and have my hair all ruffled? Or when I was –”

“I see what you are trying to do here, Mr. Todd and I’m not falling for it.” Y/N read right through his intentions to invoke an innuendo and tried to step back.

“Come on, baby.” Jason quickly grabbed her waist, circling arms around her like two snakes, preventing her from backing out. “Admit it. You liked the bad boy image I had. It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Well it doesn’t anymore—“

“Guess that only means, I’ll have to try twice as hard… Cause too bad for you, sunshine, my hair is gonna stay like that for a while. So you have to like it. “

“Oh really-?”

“Most definitely. In fact, I think I’m gonna ditch the longer hair for good. This kind of haircut is so much more practical, you know. No strands sticking to my forehead when we get sweaty. None of them in my eyes when I fight only in the domino mask, no tangles and all that stuff-“

“You’re terrible!”

“Yeah, yeah I am, and what are you going to do about it baby?” he smirked and leaned forward, giving her a teasing look “you love me either way, we both know it.”

“Well maybe I should cut my hair too.” Her eyes glistened with mischief “you know- to match your new style.”

“What?” Jason turned a little pale. His princess was going to get rid of her perfect locks?! Over his dead body! (Even if that meant dying again.) “You are not!”

“Too bad for you I already made that decision. In fact I’m gonna go to the hairdresser first thing tomorrow—”

“I won’t let you out of here! You can’t just make such important decisions without talking to me first!”

“But I just told you.” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“And the answer is no!”

“It was not a question.”

“You are not cutting your hair. It is not only yours! It’s mine too! We’re a couple, practically like one being!”

“Well maybe if we attach some of mine to your head we can both have what we want?”

“I got a better idea. I’ll keep you trapped here for as long as mine grow back, how about that?”

“And what shall we do for so many months Mr Todd?” she hummed with a glint in her eyes.”

“Duh! I’ll make sure to convince you that the length of my hair is not the one that should be of your concern, baby…” Jason smirked letting his hoarse tone reveal what was on his mind.

Was he acting like a hypocrite? Yes.

Did she care? No.

Cause one thing that was absolutely sure about Jason Todd that there was only one like him in the world. Capable of twisting the words in a way that always turned the situation a little less serious. And whatever hairstyle he was sporting, she was not going to change him for anyone else.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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peanutpinet · 1 month ago

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Hi love! I love your stories on sylus x innocent mc. Love how cute mc is. Can you do innocent mc having anixtey after having a nightmare and sylus came to comfort her

I’m Here - Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader

A/N: Hi love, thank you for requesting and I know this might be a short one but I hope that you enjoy it!!

Disclaimer: This work is completely fiction. I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

N109 Zone - 1:48 AM (2nd POV)

It had been days since Sylus left for a “business trip”. In the beginning you were fine with it because at the very least Mephisto was with you, keeping you company.

The first few days, you would tidy around the place, change a few things to make it not so dark and gloomy. You even learned some new recipes you’ve always wanted to try.

Sylus was only able to call you the first few times but when he was going deeper at the location he was at, he deeply regret to inform you that the signal was terrible but he would try his best to update you.

Now, nearly a week later, you haven’t been able to sleep well. Your overthinking brain created multiple different scenarios and thoughts that were slowly consuming you from the inside out.

Oftentimes you would wake up in the middle of the night and hugging Sylus’ pillow as you buried yourself deeper under the blankets of his bed in his room.

Today was no difference than the past several days. It was in the middle of the night, you were reading a book, thinking that it would help you fall asleep earlier.

It was just some other romance stories that you’ve been reading. But instead of helping you fall asleep, it made you overthink even more.

What if Sylus got hurt? That can’t be right? He’s Sylus. He doesn’t get hurt easily. But what if Luke and Kieran were not around and Sylus was outnumbered? Maybe they attacked him in the daylight because he is somewhat weakened in broad daylight.

In your sleep, you dreamt how Sylus was hurt and you couldn’t do anything to save him. It was as if someone or something was holding you down, not allowing your body to move.

You were screaming, crying, trying your best to get out of the grip, twisting and turning until you heard his voice.

“Hey, I’m here. Wake up for me sweetie. Everything’s okay” you heard his voice, his deep baritone voice that was calming despite what others think of him

You kept twisting and turning until you felt large but comforting hands on your arms followed by the baritone voice that calmed you. In an instant you jolt awake, your body jerking forward as you gasped for air, trying to stabilize your breathing.

In an instant you were pulled into a warm hug, your instantly relaxing, knowing who it was and the voice followed the hug confirms it. “I’m here sweetie. You’re okay”

Your chin was gently lifted up and you saw him. You saw Sylus in the flesh. His red orbs were gentle and soft with a hint of worry in them. You slowly lifted your hand and caressed his jaw making him hum.

“I’m here sweetie. I’m here. You take a deep breath for me yeah? You can do that right?” Sylus asked and you nodded, following his breathing

“That’s good sweetie. You’re doing good. I’m here. I’m sorry I left you for so long. I tried to contact you, I swear. I’ll make it up to you” Sylus’ voice was shaking a bit, his hold on you was a bit tighter

“I was worried about you. I dreamt about you. I dreamt you were hurt and I couldn’t save you. I was so scared. What if something happened to you? I can’t Sy. Please don’t leave that long with no update” you were shaking yourself, you turned around and hugged Sylus, burying your face in the crook of his neck like a koala

“There’s nothing to be worried about sweetie. I won’t ever leave you. I promise” Sylus kissed the side of your head long enough before he placed your head under his chin. “I’m here. I’m alive. Nothing will take me away from you. You’re my reason to keep going now and I would always be here for you” Sylus kissed your temple, caressing your cheek, making you both smile

#lads #love and deep space #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace sylus #sylus lads #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #sylus imagine #sylus fanfic #sylus comfort #qin che #sylus qin

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spiicii · 2 months ago

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the usos / raw tag team champions

x fem!reader word count → 1.9k summary → this is literally just pwp. the usos have a breeding kink (change my mind!) notes → thank you @wishyouloveme for the idea! and thank you @minteagalaxea and @acute-crashout-jeyuso for beta reading! links → masterlist / taglist tags → breeding kink, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, threesome, possessive behavior, overstimulation, degradation, crying, the twins want you pregnant so bad

“You playin’ it risky, girl.” Jimmy chuckled in your ear, his cock buried so deep inside of you that you were seeing stars. “You know we ain’t gonna be changin’ it up.”

You knew they wouldn’t. In the year you’ve been dating the twins, they never pulled out. Never wore a condom. It was why you’d been so conscientious about taking your birth control pills in the first place. But when you’d forgotten your pills last week, you knew that you would still end up here: on your back, legs spread with both Uso twins between them, pumping you full of their seed again and again.

“I think we’ll be okay.” You whispered, forcing your brain to focus even as Jimmy’s dick tried to turn your thoughts into radio static. “I just had my period. It isn’t time yet.”

“Hm.” Jimmy hummed noncommittally, his thrusts never slowing even as you began to writhe beneath him. “You better hope so. Otherwise you gon end up pregnant. Is that whatchu want?”

You shook your head, trying to focus on his words even as his pleasure shot up your spine with every thrust. Jey chuckled beside you, his fingers tangling in your hair to tug your head back. You let out a moan at the feeling, your eyes opening to meet Jey’s piercing gaze.

“I dunno, uce. Maybe she planned this whole thing. Tryin’ to baby trap us and shit.”

Jey’s smile was mischievous, his fingers tugging again on your hair just to hear you moan again. “Knew she was a slut, but I didn’t think she’d stoop that low.”

You tried to shake your head but Jey’s grip on your hair made it impossible. “Please.” You gasped, your eyelids fluttering. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, right.” Jimmy huffed, his rough hands now grasping at your thighs to pull you closer. “You knew whatchu was doin’. Is this what you wanted, slut? For us to pump you full and knock you up? For us to make you a mama?”

Jimmy shifted his hips and his next thrust hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, causing you to let out a cry at the feeling. Arousal and delicious heat were beginning to lick across your limbs like wildfire.

“I guess that’s why she did it.” Jey chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple even as Jimmy’s thrusts caused you to roll your eyes into the back of your head. “But maybe she’s on to somethin’, uce. I think she’d look real pretty knocked up.”

Their words were getting to you. The image of being pregnant with their child, not even sure which one of them was the father, was causing lightning bolts of arousal to shoot through your body. Your pussy spasmed helplessly around Jimmy’s length and he laughed, his grip on your quivering thighs tightening.

“I think she likes it too, uce. Startin’ to think you right. Trappin’ us so we can’t ever leave her alone. That’s what you really wanted, wasn’t it, girl? Don’t wanna let us go, do you?”

You were having trouble hearing him, the pleasure in your core beginning to overtake your other senses. And when Jimmy finally spilled inside of you, you were quick to follow, your orgasm leaving you shaking and breathless.

Jimmy didn’t give you long to recover, quickly pulling out so that him and his brother could trade places. Jey didn’t waste any time, immediately burying himself inside of you before any of his brother’s come leaked out of your hole. You didn’t miss the way his hand pressed possessively against your stomach, right above where your womb sat.

“Wouldn’t mind knocking you up, sweetheart.” Jey murmured, his brow furrowed in concentration as he began thrusting into you. “Think you’d make the prettiest mama. Whatchu think?”

You didn’t have any words for him, not while his cock was filling you so perfectly. The pleasure from your last orgasm was still simmering low in your core, the tension beginning to build again. It felt impossibly wet between your legs, your juices and some of his brother’s come beginning to leak out and drip onto the mattress.

“That whatchu want, sweetheart?” Jimmy cooed in your ear, his hands on your face as he began to pepper your cheeks with kisses. “To carry our babies? Make sure the world knows who you belong to?”

You let out a high-pitched keen when Jey hit your g-spot again, overstimulation beginning to prick at your muscles as he began picking up the pace. He began pounding you into a new fervor, seemingly spurred on by his brother’s words.

“And what happens when you end up with twins?” Jey asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual. “You think you can handle allat? You can barely handle the twins you got now.”

Jey wasn’t normally one to finish quickly, but you could tell it was all getting to him. The thought of your belly round, your breasts filled with milk, carrying another Samoan into the world…it was all sending him spiraling towards orgasm much quicker than usual. You knew they loved the idea of getting you pregnant, but you hadn’t expected them to act like this the second it became a real possibility.

Jimmy was still pressing kisses to your face, his large hand palming at one of your breasts. “You ain’t gotta do all this to get us to stick around, baby.” He teased. “You know we ain’t ever leaving you. You know we ain’t lettin’ our best girl go.”

Jey finished inside you with a grunt, still keeping that possessive hand over your womb as he buried himself as deep as possible, ensuring you took every drop. He didn’t seem interested in pulling out, his eyes dark as he stared at you trembling beneath him.

“Please, please, Jey…” Your voice was wrecked. “I can’t…I need…”

“Shhh,” Jimmy was quick to shush you, kissing your sweaty forehead with a new tenderness. “I know, sweetheart. Too drunk on cock to think, ain’t you? Don’t worry, you know we gotchu.”

Jimmy was quick to replace his brother, once again lining up at your entrance before thrusting inside again. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, the arousal and overstimulation causing your body to feel hot and feverish. Still, you couldn’t help the next word that came out of your mouth.

“Daddy.” It came out as nothing more than a whisper, but the twins heard it all the same, both of them chuckling.

“That’s right, mamas.” Jey cooed in your ear, grabbing your jaw to meet your eyes. “Gonna knock you up and be your daddies. Just like you wanted, huh?”

You couldn’t help but nod, the arousal building inside you once again. “Want it so bad.” You admitted, opening your legs even wider to grant Jimmy better access. “Please, I need it.”

Jimmy’s grin was wicked. “Oh, baby. You don’t even know what you’re askin’ for.”

*****

You knew that the twins had stamina, but you had no idea they could go for this long. You’d lost count of how many times they’d come inside you, continuing to breed you late into the night. Your cunt was sore, your body exhausted from how many times they’d made you come. You felt full now, your womb flooded with the many loads they’d given you. You weren’t even sure how they could keep going. They seemed determined to fill you to the brim, triggered by the primal urge to come inside you and get you pregnant.

The room smelled like sex, the sheets beneath you completely soaked. You might have felt disgusted about it if you could even think. The world around you was hazy, even as you stared up at whichever twin was between your legs now. You were pretty sure it was Jimmy, but your thoughts were so scrambled you couldn’t be sure.

“So sweet. You take it so good, baby.”

The voice in your ear was Jimmy’s, so the cock inside you must belong to Jey. Probably. But did it really matter?

You felt warm and euphoric, the pleasure causing your body to thrum like a live wire. You couldn’t get enough of them.

“Such a good girl.” Jey cooed, his thrusts somehow still steady despite the multiple loads he’d given you. “Knew you’d take it like a champ. Just made to be bred like this, huh?”

It shouldn’t have been possible for him to come inside you again, but he did, leaning over you to press a sweet kiss to your cheek before pulling out again.

“Just one more.” Jimmy whispered in your ear, already leaning up to take his brother’s place again. You knew it was a lie, but you didn’t mind, allowing him to slip inside your wetness with ease. You’d let them go all night if they wanted.

“Daddy, please.” you whined, yet another orgasm building inside you. They were almost painful now, their perfect cocks wringing as much pleasure from you as possible. “I can’t…I don’t-”

“It’s okay, mamas.” Jey crooned in your ear, reaching up to wipe some of the sweaty hair from your forehead. “Just let go. We gotchu. It’s alright.”

The tension snapped and you came again, somehow gushing around Jimmy’s cock as he continued to pound into you.

“Shit, you really want a baby, huh?” Jimmy panted, his thrusts so hard you were certain your cervix would bruise. “Lemme give it to you, mama. Gonna fill you again. Gonna knock you up so everyone’ll know you’re ours.”

It went on like this for hours. By the time they finally finished, it was almost sunrise. You knew you wouldn’t be walking for days after this, your legs completely numb from how many positions they’d put you in. You tried to shift the best you could to relieve some of the pressure on your lower back, but a hand on your inner thigh immediately stilled you.

“Can’t waste a drop, sweetheart.” Jimmy murmured, using his fingers to stuff the come that was leaking out of your hole back in. “How else you gonna get what you want?” The feeling of his fingers prodding at your sore pussy caused shockwaves of overstimulation to wrack your body, a low moan tearing from your throat.

“Hush, baby. It’s alright.” Jey’s arms were wrapped around you, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he held you close. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

Were you crying? You couldn’t be sure, not when your thoughts were this muddled, your body feverish and oversensitive.

“Daddy.” It seemed to be the only word you could think of, your brain struggling to formulate a coherent thought. The twins didn’t seem to mind, both of them cooing sweet words to you as they leaned over to kiss you.

“Such a sweet girl.” One of them said, their lips soft against yours. “We’re pretty lucky our baby mama’s the prettiest of the bunch. Ain’t we, uce?”

“Mm hm.” The other hummed in agreement. “Gonna take care of you, mamas. We ain’t going anywhere.”

You knew they wouldn’t. You could already see it now: a little boy, his head full of dark curls and his skin a familiar bronze. He’d have Jey’s eyes and Jimmy’s smile. You couldn’t help but feel a warm glow inside you at the thought, letting a small sound of happiness as the twins placed their possessive hands above your womb. They were looking at you hopefully, no doubt thinking the same thing as you.

Maybe forgetting your birth control pills wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

_____

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @luvrsluxe @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @solarrexplosion @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera

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snowave · 10 months ago

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Just another brainrot of mine regarding Zayne, but then again, what's new?

Zayne who...

...is the type to play with your hair idly.

...enjoys quality time with you, no matter how busy he is with his shifts (or how tired he is).

"Dr. Greyson said you came to visit but you almost immediately left when you saw me napping. I told you, you should wake me up, my time with you is considered as resting."

...is the type who makes his presence known despite of being away from each other from time to time.

...always tries to understand you and your quirks, and grows to love them as they makes you, you.

...who subtly leaves his things in your place to have the perfect excuse to come and stay over whenever he feels like it.

"I can't find my tie, I think I left it on your couch. Can I pick it up and maybe see you as well?"

...is the type to keep track of your schedule, so that he can match his time with yours.

...is the type to give you space, and give you silent encouragement when you feel down, because sometimes, we all just need a presence to hold onto; something to keep us grounded instead of words that we usually hear.

"I'm here, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, cry your heart out."

...thinks of you before himself. He always talks in a way that will cater you, your interests, your needs, your wants, etc.

"Hm? What am I doing here? Well, my day is free so it's all yours. What do you want to do?"

...scolds you for not having self-preservation. The man just wants you to see healthy and well all the time.

...probably does not makes you lift a finger whenever you're with him. Zayne isn't a vocal person, but his affection can be seen at the way he delivers through acts of services.

...lets you make fun of him, and you'll get away with it. It amuses him to no end how the gears in your brain work, and how you always manage to think of things that you tease him about.

...talks to you in the most gentle way. Despite his image, Zayne always talks to you softly, and probably never raises his voice even though he's upset or mad.

...gives you space when you get into fights or arguments with each other. It gives you both the mental capacity you need to talk everything out in a proper way, without the need to throw useless and hurtful words to each other.

"I'm sorry. Are you in the right headspace to talk about it now? Or do you need some more time? I can wait."

...probably keeps a photo of you, or photos of both of you in his office and home, framed and delicately placed somewhere he could see immediately.

...becomes clingy in the morning. He relishes in the feeling of you wrapped in his arms, the feeling of your body pressed against his, and the calming beating of your heart. He loves it when you snuggle closer to him, like a cat seeking for warmth.

"It's my day off today, I can stay more in bed with you. Just let me be, hm? Let me hold you much longer."

...the type to look at you with eyes filled with so much longing, yearning, and love, that sometimes you feel like you'll be lost when you stare at him.

And finally, Zayne who loves you more than you think. Lore-wise, he really does. But in general setting, if he can, he'll do everything just to make sure that you're always happy, that you always feel loved, cared for, and needed.

Feel free to add more, I really, really just like talking about Zayne. I guess, it would be nice to have someone to yap with about him.

#love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnd zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #dr zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne fluff

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plutoswritingplanet · 1 year ago

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough.

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her.

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love.

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill.

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them.

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end.

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son.

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die.

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed.

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers.

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded.

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow.

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour.

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to.

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice.

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him.

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament.

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods.

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room.

- Shall we, my Lady?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat.

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features.

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade.

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed.

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it.

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug.

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade.

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses.

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you.

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking.

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies.

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man.

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike.

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way.

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps.

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting.

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls.

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head.

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo.

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts.

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me.

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him.

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle.

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art.

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards.

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh.

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs.

#my writing #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune part 2 #dune 2024 #they try to silence me again on tumblr dot com but i won't let them

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