#i was just the tag along nobody really wanted there
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
SOMETHING BOUTâ US
Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.
This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED
word count: 4605
smut warning; itâll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it Iâm not really good at writing âđœ smuts but Iâm improving at the moment.
Jey Uso x Yasmine
AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.
comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. đ€
ALSO! I donât not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.
I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios
But Iâll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. đđœââïž
TAGS âŹïž lmk if you wanna be tag đ·ïž@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign
@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic
@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi
6.
JEY I was in the garage at home doing my workouts for this upcoming PPV that is happening this weekend. Jon and I got a tag team title defense against the New Day during that time, so I had to be prepared for it.
I hope Yasmine will be able to debut around this weekend during the PPV because I heard that someone would be making their long-awaited debut for a title-shot match against Liv Morgan.
As I was doing my bench press reps, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, which made me put a pause on my workout. I grabbed it from my pocket, seeing that Yasmine had texted me.
Yasmineđ©” sent 2+ messages and two attachments IMESSAGE đŹ Yasmineđ©”: bestie butt I miss you Yasmineđ©”: it's sooo boring without you here hopefully I get to see you at work. Yasmineđ©”:
'I felt myself getting hard at these pictures she just sent me damn she looked so fucking cute.'
Joshuađ€: Yasmine you're really testing it right now. Yasmineđ©”: whaaaaaat? All I did was send some pictures đ Joshuađ€: yeah, they're cute but that's not the problem minks. Yasmineđ©”: then what's the problem?Â đ€š Joshuađ€: Yasmine stop playin dumb with me Yasmineđ©”: these pictures are getting you hard right now? Joshuađ€: bingo I feel like you sent them on purpose Yasmineđ©”: maybe....maybe notđđ€ Joshuađ€: you wanna keep playin? Yasmineđ©”: what? Ion' know what you're talking about Bestie Joshuađ€: A'ight bet since you wanna act dumb and keep playin I got'chu later on Yasmineđ©”: wait Josh I was kidding Yasmineđ©”: JOSHUA!! đ„Čđ„Č
I chuckled as I left her on read, staring down at my hardened member and then back at her photos. Her images made me want to pound my dick in so badly. After putting away all of my exercise gear and heading upstairs to my bedroom, I lay down on my bed and took down my shorts, watching my dick pop up and land on my stomach as I started to stroke it up and down while daydreaming about her.
MINI SMUT WARNING
While I kept my eyes closed, I was groaning Yasmine's name and imagining how wonderful it would feel to be within her at that moment. I was going crazy thinking about her in this way, especially when I had wet dreams about it. My legs were squeezing together, and I could picture her bouncing up and down on my dick while groaning my name. I could feel my breath becoming unsteady as I continued to stroke my dick up and down.
"Fuck...Yasmine...Fuck.." I moaned softly as I kept stroking it in a steady pace.
I was rolling my eyes in the back of my head yearning for more of her, her touch, her rubbing all up on me. I instantly grabbed my phone and started to record a video of myself stroking my dick up and down so I could send it to her.
I kept stroking the tip feeling myself edging on as I continued to moan her name, I just couldn't wait to be all up in that whenever I get a chance.
"Ouuuu fuck mama..." thinking about beating her shit in while pulling on her hair choking her as I pushed my dick deeply inside of her wanting her to feel every single inch of me.
I clenched my legs some more feeling sweat coming down my cheeks with my face being all flushed. I felt myself shaking as I sped up the pace a little bit more.
My mouth was parted opened as I felt myself getting close to my climax as my dick twitched in my hands.
I kept imagining Yasmine stroking it for me swirling her tongue around my tip before going down on me while my tip was hitting the back of her throat gagging on it.
"Fuck, I'm finna nut fuck.." I moaned.
I chuckled as I let out a satisfying sigh and saw my nut trickling from my hand as I gently stroked the remaining portion out, cursing under my breath after a few more strokes.
MINI SMUT OVER.
I used my available hand to stop the video recording as my chest was heaving up and down. Getting up from the bed, I went towards my bathroom and took a shower.
'Damn that shit felt so good.'
â§Ë° YASMINE I was at the performance center today in the ring practicing with Bianca for my debut this weekend at Crown Jewel. Nobody knew but the girls. I was so nervous and happy that I was finally debuting at my first-ever PPV.
I was on top of the turnbuckle doing my finisher move on Bianca, landing on her stomach and hearing her groan in pain at the feeling. That's when I pinned her shoulders down, counting in my head.
I let go of her leg as I felt my face flushed. My chest was heaving up and down, getting up from the ring, and I placed my hands on my hips as Bianca did the same.
"Damn girl you're really good." Bianca said.
"Man I know I believe what Shawn Michael's was saying that I'll be the next star in this company." I said wiping the sweat off of my forehead.
"I see the vision of you being a champion girl and when you do you better give me the opportunity." I nodded my head chuckling at her letting her know that I'll make sure to give her a title shot.
I went to grab my phone as I saw that Jey had sent me a video. When I went to go open it, my eyes went wide as I saw him stroking his dick up and down, hearing him moaning my name.
I made sure to put my AirPods in so I could listen to it more clearly; as I predicted it his dick was big as fuck and now I gotta wait until later to see what the fuck was he talking about earlier when I sent those pictures.
After watching the video, seeing his nut spilling out from the tip and dripping down on his hands, it just made my body feel warm and fuzzy seeing that he's thinking about me.
I turned the phone off, hearing Bianca's footsteps coming behind me. "Are you ready, girl? Let's go see what your gear is looking like." I nodded my head while grabbing our bags and our water.
â§Ë° After Bianca and I checked out my ring attire for Crown Jewel, all I can say is that it looked good, like really good. We were at the catering area, seeing Trinity and Jonathan sitting there at our table eating.
We walked up with our plates as they both looked at us and smiled I tried to scan the area to find Jey but he was nowhere to be found so I just shrugged it off.
Trinity and Them didn't know about my debut match for the weekend because it had to be a secret that would surprise everyone, including the crowds.
"Trinity have you seen my bestie?" I asked.
"I think he's in him and Jon's locker room right now I don't know why?" She said while stuffing her face with food.
"I just wanted to know that's all I was hoping to see him today." Trinity nodded her head as we all continued to eat our foods together. Meanwhile, I felt my phone buzz. When I pulled it out, I saw that Jey had texted me.
Joshuađ€Â sent a message IMESSAGE đŹ Joshuađ€: come holla at me for a minute when you get done minks.
I was nervous, to say the least. I didn't know what he had planned, and when I went towards his locker room, all I could think about was what he had said earlier before we came into work.
After I finished eating my food, I got up from the table and went towards the trashcan, throwing away my plate in the process, before heading towards his locker room.
Meanwhile, I heard someone behind me calling my name. I could recognize that voice from a mile away. When I turned around, I saw Carmelo standing there with his arms crossed.
"What Melo?" I asked giving him a stern expression.
"What the fuck is goin on between you and Jey? I saw what you posted on your page talking about a favorite person; it better be me." He said sternly as I smacked my teeth because I didn't have time for this shit right now.
"Melo? Can we not be delusional for once, like seriously, you knew who I was referring to." I was beginning to walk away until I felt him grabbing me by the wrist which made me turn around a smack the fuck out of him.
By this point, I was getting sick of him snatching me up like I was some kind of fucking Barbie doll or something. I watched as he staggered back, clutching his cheek in disbelief. Carmelo was stunned when I turned to leave for Jey's locker room when I approached his locker room I knocked on the door like usual waiting for him to open it.
When I heard his footsteps approaching the door, I heard him opening the door, and I saw myself standing there, looking all innocent. I gazed up at him, smiling.
He let me in, closing the door behind us. I wrapped my arms around his neck while he wrapped his around my waist, and we made eye contact.
"I missed you bestie butt." I said.
"I missed you too mamas." Jey said as he gave me a peck on the lips.
Hoping that he would forget what he had said earlier, I unwrapped my arms around his neck before walking away to sit down on the couch. That's when I felt him pull me back into his arms, scooping me up by the thighs.
Now I was straddling his lap like I was one week ago. He placed his lips onto mine as we passionately made out with each other. Our tongues were fighting for dominance, knowing he had won that fight, feeling him rubbing his hands all over my body.
Next thing I knew, our clothes were on the floor as the cold breeze hit our bodies. It was like we had lost control in the moment, feeling my body grinding on his hardened dick.
Hearing him hiss at the feeling, we stopped what we were doing as we looked at each other, I couldn't wait any longer for this begging him with my eyes just to fuck me right there.
"We don't have to do this mama, ion want you to feel uncomfortable or being forced." Jey said trying to read my facial expressions.
I shook my head, "I want too Josh...I wanna do this...I trust you..." I was shocked at myself for even saying this despite my trust issues but with Jey it felt so different he's been my peacemaker.
SMUT WARNING He kissed me on the lips, trailing them down onto my neck and giving me wet kisses as I threw my head back in pleasure, letting him do whatever he wanted to do to me.
He was sucking on my neck like a vampire that needed blood supply as he marked me up good, at this point we reached our limit knowing that we both wanted more from each other and not just some kissing and teasing each other.
I felt him rubbing my soaking folds against his tip as I sat down on it, letting his dick fill me up well as I gasped, knowing that he was finna be all in my shit. He pulled me closer to his body and held onto me tightly, giving me nothing but sweet kisses on the cheek.
"You goin' to ride this dick fo' me baby?" He said in a low tone that gave me shivers I nodded my head, looking into his eyes
I slowly moved my ass up and down on his dick, trying to adjust to his size, feeling his hands guiding my hips to my movements. I never felt so full before, especially when I was with Carmelo again. Something about Jey is different.
I had my eyes rolling in the back of my head as Jey watched me bounce all up on his dick I could see him having his bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth.
"Damn, mama...this some good ass pussy.." Jey Groaned as I sped up my pace a little bit.
I saw him throwing his head back as he continued to watch me become a moaning mess for him and only him.
"F-fuckk Josh..." I moaned breathlessly maintaining eye contact with him as I bit the bottom of my lip.
"You so fucking pretty baby, taking papi's dick so well." He was a much better talker than melo was it just turned me on even more. We stopped in our tracks as we heard the door knocking as me and him looked at each other.
But then I felt him thrust his hips upward, causing me to gasp while he covered my mouth, continually thrusting his hips so deep inside of me.
"Yo Uce! we gotta do this segment in like 20 minutes!" Jon said.
"Shit...A'ight then uce I'll be out there in a few!" Jey managed to speak as he pounded into my wet cunt. He looked dead into my eyes, giving me a warning.
At the point, his dick felt like it was all in my guts as I let him take control of the situation, feeling pull my face closer to his as we passionately kissed.
"Ouuu papi...you're so deep. " He liked the way I sounded, and I practically begged him for moreâmore of him calling out his name.
"Yeah? Keep bouncing on it then mama, make me nut." I did what I was told to do and went back to bouncing on his dick on the couch.
I felt my walls gripping onto him, hearing him cursing under his breath, spanking my ass in the process, getting a handful of it.
I felt a pit going down my stomach, knowing that I was going to be coating my cream all over him as we continued to tongue kiss each other.
His hands were guiding my hips to speed up the pace a little more as skins were slapping against each other, which sounded out the entire room. I could feel his tip hitting my cervix driving me crazy.
He was so deep inside of me it had me seeing stars knowing that this man drives me crazy. I could feel myself coming closer to my orgasm.
That's when I felt him get up flipping us over, now my back was on the couch while my legs were pinned to my sides as he began drilling my shit.
I couldn't handle it anymore as I tried to push him by his stomach but he slapped my hand away fucking vigorously. "J-Joshhhhuaa oh my godddd." I moaned his full name rolling my eyes in the back of my head.
"Mhm...give me this shit mama...cum all over this dick..." He grunted firmly grabbing me by the throat not wanting to hurt me.
The air was thickening with our breathing and sweating making it feel hot inside the locker room. Jey circled his hips hitting my spot over and over again as I felt defeated by him.
Our foreheads were touching each other staring into each other's eyes deeply as he pecked me on the lips letting me to relax and that he got me.
"Uhnnn Josh I-I'm finna C-cum..!" I mewled weakly feelin' tired and overwhelmed.
I heard him whispering something in my ear that made me came all over this man, "C'mon cum fo' papi baby...daddy's got'chu pretty mamas." I felt my legs shaking as I let out a gasp cumming all over him rolling my eyes deeply in the back of my head while he was watching too.
My entire body quivered underneath him as I saw my cream coat his dick so well while he continued to beat my shit in.
I felt so overwhelmed that I had tears running down my face due to me being sensitive around my area, using my hand to push him away, but that just made things worse.
He kept my legs over his shoulders, pounding into me so deeply to the point where I couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore, covering my face in the process.
"Move yo' damn arm away from yo' face minks lemme' see how good I'm fucking you." He demanded as he removed my arm away from my face.
He liked the way I was looking so miserable underneath him, holding onto the couch for dear life and feeling his dick twitch inside of me.
His movements became slower and sloppier with every single thrust he gave me; he wanted me to feel every inch.
"Fuck minks I'm finna nut..." Jey placed a soft kiss on my lips as he moved his hips deeper into my gushy insides.
After a few more thrusts, Jey pulled out of me, letting out a satisfying groan escaping his lips while he came all over my stomach, stroking the rest of his nut out.
'This is some of best sex I ever had.'
SMUT OVER.
I was panting heavily as my chest was heaving up and down; my legs felt like jello shaking violently. Jey had taken notice of that and began massaging my thighs, planting kisses over them.
He grabbed a napkin so he could wipe his nut off of my stomach, after he did that we began putting on our clothes as I attempted to walk towards the mirror fixing my hair hiding my hickies in the process behind my hair.
My legs felt so weak I could barely stand, 'damn, this nigga fuck me good way to good.' He walked up behind me wrapping his arms around my waist placing a kiss on my cheek as we looked at each other in the mirror.
"You good minks?" Jey asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine my legs just feel like jello now because of you sir." I said rolling my eyes at him as I heard him chuckling softly.
"My fault mamas, you just felt so good I couldn't help it." I punched him in his chest before placing a kiss on his lips.
He pulled away from me, grabbing his phone and checking the time he had to leave for this segment before Jon starts to get pissed like a little ass kid. With that he gave one final kiss before heading out to meet with Jon.
Meanwhile, I saw my phone light up as I saw that Bianca had texted me.
Breezyđ«¶đœÂ sent 2+ messages IMESSAGE đŹ Breezyđ«¶đœ: Yasmine wya? Breezyđ«¶đœ: oh never mind you with Joshua?
I just chuckled at the messages and began texting her back.
Minnieđ§: yeah, I was spending time with Josh Breezyđ«¶đœ: girl what was yall doing in there?đ Minnieđ§: well see about thatđđ Breezyđ«¶đœ: OMG BITCH YALL TWO IS NASTY Minnieđ§: we couldn't control ourselves okayđ this is what we wanted Breezyđ«¶đœ: I understand girl completely but hurry up before Montez get back in here Minnieđ§: I'm otw now đ
I made sure that I've gotten everything before leaving towards Montez's locker room, while walking down the hallway I ran into him yet again but this time I just ignored his ass not wanting to hear what he has to say.
As I made it towards my brother's locker room, I opened the door and saw Trinity and Bianca sitting on the couch like always. They both looked at me, darting their eyes behind me.
When I turned around, I saw Carmelo standing behind me, which made me jump a little bit before I turned around and sighed deeply.
"Melo what the fuck." I said.
His eyes darted towards my neck seeing all of my purple hickies on my neck that Jey had applied on me I could read his facial expressions and he looked pretty pissed.
He moved my hair to the side, getting a better view of the hickeys on my neck, "Yasmine, why the fuck are there hickeys on your neck?" I rolled my eyes at him, folding my arms in the process.
"Why does it matter? Get it through your head, Melo. We are not together." Carmelo tried to grab me by the arm, but Trinity came just in time to stop him, slapping him in the face and causing him to stumble backward while shutting the door in his face.
I sat down on the couch, rubbing my temple, feeling frustrated with all of this. The girls could see how stressed I was.
"Girl, you gotta get a restraining order on him or something or he'll just keep harassing you." Bianca said.
I nodded my head agreeing with them I had to do something or this will get worst.
â§Ë° OMNISCIENT After work, Yasmine decided to go home and chill for the rest of the day since her body was sore and still recovering from the session she and Jey had earlier today.
When she pulled up in the driveway, she turned off the ignition switch in her car, grabbed her keys and bags from the backseat, and exited the car.
She had thought about what Bianca had said about getting a restraining order against Carmelo. It would probably finally give her some piece of mind if he stayed away from her, and if he went against it, he could go to jail.
It made her smile to think about him being in jail and away from her, especially since she and Jey have been getting close.
She unlocked the door, wiping her feet on the mat before coming inside. She held onto the wall, taking off her shoes and placing them on the rack.
Meanwhile, she sat down on the couch, sighing in relief, feeling her phone vibrate and seeing an unknown number calling her.
OTP Yasmine: hello? Unknown number: Hey minks Yasmine: who the fuck is this? Unknown number: girl it's Trick damn did you forget me already Yasmine: Nigga how did you get my number? Ion want nun to do with you Unknown number: c'mon you know what you told me wasn't true he didn't do that Yasmine: Trick fuck you like honestly your own best friend literally fucking raped me in my locker room and choke me the fuck out and you wanna call up my phone saying that I'm making it up? Unknown number: Minks c'mon now Yasmine: don't fucking call my number again Unknown number: Minksâ
CALLED ENDED
Yasmine felt her cheeks getting wet as she wiped her tears away. She couldn't believe that this man didn't believe her and believed that she had made this all up just to ruin Carmelo's reputation.
She blocked Trick's TextNow number while bawling her eyes out on the couch, she had flashbacks of what had happened that day it always give her nightmares at night that's why she always wanted Jey to stay with her because he was her comfort person.
Yasmine wiped the rest of her tears away as she texted Trinity.
IMESSAGE đŹ Minnieđ§: hey, Trin? Trinđ€đ«¶đœ: yeah, girl what's up? Minnieđ§: is Joshua with yall? Trinđ€đ«¶đœ: no, him and Jon went out for drinks with the guys why what's wrong? Minnieđ§: sigh, I'm having a mental breakdown right now and I just need him here but ion' wanna be a burden if he's with the guys Trinđ€đ«¶đœ: hey! Don't say that about yourself you're not a burden to nobody not even Joshua Minnieđ§: I'm trying to calm myself down I can't believe that this man thinks I made it all up Trinđ€đ«¶đœ: who Trick? He called you? How? Minnieđ§: from a TextNow number Trinđ€đ«¶đœ: omg he's so weird for that honestly but let me see what time they're coming back okay? Minnieđ§: kk thank you Trin Trinđ€đ«¶đœ: ofccc I'll do anything for you
After she texted Trin, she went upstairs and went towards her bedroom, not knowing when Bianca and Montez were coming home. She lay down in her bed, curled up in a ball.
She didn't feel safe at work with Carmelo walking around, even though she had protection. She believed that her protection wouldn't help as much since they wouldn't really be around.
She again felt tears running down her face, hoping that Jey would come and comfort her, but she was also scared, wondering if she was pushing him away or scaring him off with her issues.
Wondering if she was enough for him in his eyes, Yasmine wiped her tears away, seeing her phone light up as she saw a text from Jey.
Joshuađ€Â sent 2+ messages IMESSAGE đŹ Joshuađ€: hey, mama Trin had texted me saying that you were looking for me Joshuađ€: you okay?
She smiled at the messages but it went away due to her overthinking about what she had thought about.
Yasmineđ©”: yeah, I'm okay bestie Joshuađ€: you don't have to hide it from me minks Yasmineđ©”: I-I'm not hiding anything... Joshuađ€: Yasmine don't be doing that what's wrong? Yasmineđ©”: it's nothing ion' wanna be a burden I'll see you tmr Josh goodnight Joshuađ€: Minks
Yasmine turned off her phone while getting up from her bed and going towards her dresser. She took off her clothes and threw them in the dirty bin right next to her dresser.
She heard her phone going off knowing that Jey was calling her but she didn't want to answer it ignoring her phone ringing, since she already took a shower at work she changed into something comfortable while getting inside her warm blankets.
In the dark, she tossed and turned, not feeling comfortable. Her bed felt empty without Jey cuddling her. She saw a car light approaching the house, probably thinking that it was Montez and Bianca coming home, but she heard the door knocking, which is something that they don't do when they have a key.
She got up from her bed walked downstairs towards the front door, opened the door seeing the person that she wanted to see and be with.
He looked good wearing all black along with his gold chain and white Air Forces including his piercings that hang from his ears.
He had his arms folded over his chest as she let him in before shutting the door behind him, standing there like a little kid.
Her eyes watched him sit down on the couch, curling up his finger in the process as she walked up towards him, going between his legs.
"C'mere Yasmine." Jey spoken.
She looked down at her feet, fiddling with her fingers, as he pulled her onto his lap, grabbing her chin and making her look at him.
Jey noticed that she had been crying, showing concern in his eyes. "Talk to me, mama. What was all of that about?" Yasmine opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
She sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to get away from this, so she explained what had happened and why she was acting like that, expressing herself that she didn't want to be a burden or worried that she was scaring him away with her issues, wondering if she was enough.
Hearing her vent and let out her feelings just broke his heart. Listening to this, he knew that he loved her deeply; she just didn't even know it.
"Minks, you're more than enough for me. You aren't a burden, mama. Don't ever say that." He reassured her while placing a kiss on her shoulder.
"I'm here for you, mama. You don't have to be afraid to tell me things." Yasmine nodded her head while lying down on his chest.
She knew that Jey was her true comfort person, her peacemaker, and she felt a sense of relief that Jey wasn't going to leave her or judge her for what she had gone through.
Yasmine knew that she would be loved by him.
Something Bout' Us.
A/n: I honestly understand Yasmine completely I know Jey is going to love her downnnn but Trick ass just a damn disgrace like how can you believe your best friend's lies over Yasmine? When you wasn't even there?
Idkk but he's pissing me off honestly.
But I hope yall enjoy the chapter lmk in the comments below.
Stay Ucey.
#jey uso#black writers#black fanfic writer#black oc#jey x oc black#wwelove#black reader#jey uso fanfiction#wwe fanfiction#jey uso smut
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
probably the most constant thing of my life has been the social isolation and loneliness i experience
since i was a young child, iâve always struggled to make and find friends, and often was left alone
for a long time, nothing could defeat my spirits and will to make friends, and even the loneliness wasnât enough to make me stop
nowadays, it gets to me, the loneliness, and i often wonder if iâll have all the friends iâve deserved all along
#audhdrhys#lonelyrhys#i had a lot of fake friends growing up#and i was gullible a lot so people act one way and then another and i fell for it each time they did it#often times my âfriendsâ were just there to use me as playmates and not real friends who cared about my boundaries and interests#and some of them didnât consider me their friend and forgot about me the minute i left their daily lives#some ran away from me cuz i was weird#but most of the time i just remember being alone#i remember not knowing how to make friends#i remember being too scared to and asking my sister to make friends for me#which she would and they would always favor her#i was just the tag along nobody really wanted there#and thatâs how it usually went#and i was homeschooled growing up and i didnât go to many groups or anything like that so i was already isolated from society just from tha#but the loneliness through that all has stuck with me#i still donât know how to make friends very well#i still wonder if everyone finds me offputting#and i still wonder if theyâre faking being my friend and donât actually care about me#even though i have some and am grateful for them#the loneliness stays#lonely#lonely childhood#childhood memories#childhood#friends#audhd experiences#audhd#audhd problems#audhd child
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Found this photo WAYY ago and didnt post it however i was thinking of it again today and we NEED to start talking about it + some more random ones below the cut ^ ^
#Crash#Elias Koteas#Vaughan#Crash 1996#my posts#Sry for the low effort post nobody has posted this image i thinky before and i want it out of my files#ALONG WITH i think the photo is really cool and interesting for showing Vaughan as a character#Fits along with alot of his actions and is a good showing of him me thinks#Sooo need to read the book... which i might work on getting a copy and doing just been busy BUT should be getting more free so soon...#Miiight go back and edit on some of my tags i want this filed under but blehhh idc rn... and idk how corny it would be
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself
#what if you felt unbearable guilt because your brother went missing in the two seconds you were separated#and you feel like there mustve been Something you couldve done to prevent it#if only you had stuck together. if only you hadnt let him tag along on your basically-a-suicide-mission in the first place#but none of those things happened so you go through three years blaming yourself#continuing to search for him because maybe hes still out there. and maybe exhausting yourself on an aimless search is a way you can atone#and then you're pulled into this big destiny adventure so your searching is put on the back burner#you're so busy doing important things and meeting new friends and there are points in your adventure where your heart feels lighter#and maybe you open up just a little about the crushing guilt you feel. and your new friends say it wasnt your fault#maybe you start accepting that your brother is really gone but you have to keep living your life#saving your brother was a far out dream but saving the world is something you have the power to do#so you try your best. so you dont fuck up this time#your guilt becomes the fuel keeping you going#and then at the end of your journey#you find out one of the biggest obstacles on your journey#the human chimera that you felt kinda horrified at and a little bad for even as you fought them#is your brother you've been mourning and agonizing over not being able to save#so um. The Guilt is even worse now#now he doesnt just feel responsible for his death. he Now feels responsible for him becoming this Creature Thing under porkys control#and in a lucas dies scenario. hoogh i cant imagine how claus would feel after that.......#however the thing that spurred this post was thinking about the lucas lives postgame scenario (it just got a bit out of hand lol) so.#your brother is alive and back home again and youre so unbelievably glad#but the guilt still creeps up every time you see how much hes Changed. physically and mentally#you had just started to accept the fact youd have to live without your brother but somehow having him back is almost just as painful#things cant just go back to how they were before. youll never be the exact same happy family as you used to be#its strange adjusting to having lucas back and its strange trying not to step on each others toes with their trauma#you cant help but be clingy because you couldnt bear it if he disappeared again under your watch#but nobody wants to be watched all the time especially when youre recovering from your brainwashed identity as an army commander#FUCK I REACHED THE TAG LIMIT I WANTED TO RAMBLE MORE AUGH. THEY MAKE ME SO ILL. i swear its not all angst theres some lightheartedness in it#mother 3 swap au#mothfics
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm so not okay about how Spiral ended, because my mind keeps coming back to badly beaten up Schenk, escaping the factory, and I can't not imagine him going back to his small rented flat, where he just stumbling to the bathroom, sits on the floor, and coughs up blood. There's ringing in his ears, that's not going away, and he closes his eyes, because this darkness, this nothingness is somewhat comforting, and he just thinks about everything that happened, and everything sucks, but he knows: even though he's alone, he should keep going.
#william schenk is the cutest little meow meow and that's the hill i'm going to die on#sure he builds death traps and he skinned a person but nobody's perfect you know#but i actually adore how smart and resourceful he is#also very dedicated to his morals#and determined#and he's very young like damn he's a genius in my eyes#yet so lonely#really want to see him interact with logan or lawrence or mark i just know they would get along#apprentices team up my beloved#the tags have become a garbage dump for all my schenk's thoughts tbh#william schenk#spiral from the book of saw#saw franchise#saw 2005#lina shares headcanons
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
loki/william rufus fic, where bill explains that as the second son he has inherited england while big brother bob only got the duchy of normandy, ha ha ha.
#no offence to normandy of course i'm sure it's a fine duchy with many things to recommend it.#oh but wait! England Son then dies in a âHunting Accidentâ and the next brother heads for the capital ASAP!#where is Bob? idk i think he was on crusade or something. BUT! he'll get to stay in england when henry keeps him captive for life <3#apparently robert got very into welsh poetry while imprisoned for being the older brother so maybe that made up for it all?#PLOT TWIST: henry the first of england leaves no legitimate sons and england ends up having a civil war when he dies.#btw it still throws me a bit that post-conquest kings have names like william and robert while the pre-1066 dudes are all named Aethelthing#*whispers* i kind of feel like asgard should be on a atheling system like pre-conquest england but i don't want to complicate things.#though this would explain why Thor 1 treats a Loki succession as a real possibility and thinks aptitude for kingship in any way matters.#whereas the later movies all assume it works on primogeniture (and none of us in fandom really absorbed the fact that when hela shows up#thor instantly accepts that she's ahead of him in the line of succession and objects to her evilness rather than her sex/gender.#so clearly if thor and loki have an older sister the OLDER matters more than the SISTER. right? yet sif is the only female warrior.#and while i think the 'kings NEED to go into battle!' thing was overstated by the past and by modern observers we do all go along with that#in the context of these films don't we? loki is unsuitable due to his *checks notes* weak fragile feminine form.#*looks at him and experiences a brief moment of cognitive dissonance before moving on*#and that's a story more of us want to tell (or i assume that's what's up) so we all just ignore The Hela Evidence don't we?)#(i can explain my own reasons if anyone asks but nobody will so i won't bother doing it in these tags.)#btw a friend once made a william the conqueror joke about passing the duchy on the left hand side which was FANSTASTIC#but explaining it would take far too long so i won't do that either. BUT IT WAS RLY FUNNY U GUYS (gender-neutral)!#history shitposting#plus the mcu because of course
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
the party in-game btw :^)
#cinnamon's half hrothgar so both of her ''looks'' are glams she uses in my canon till i can mod her again#i want her to be a little wrinkly she's a woman in her 40s....#ravya is just some guy they picked up in radz cuz cin loves fishing and she was a bit too abnormal about it#and this guy was like ahhh i know a lesbian when i see one. i'm coming with you#and she was like what do u mean by that. what. and he never elaborated and she just let him tag along#val joins up for a temp thing and he's terrible and cin and eden don't really like him but he's unfortunately#very good at killing things and so they Deal With Him with the intention of ditching him when they find another caster#they do not. they are stuck with him#he's such a bastard that like if he does ANYTHING nice they're sus of it#anyway cin's a trans lesbian who uses glams and hrt#eden is something. nobody knows what's going on with him but he's bi#ravya is cis gay#valentine is trans by fantasia and his parents were totally there for it. they gave him a new name and everything#they were like ohhh our son. your new name is eugene! and he's like what? no. you cant do this to me#they still have old portraits of him pre-fantasia at his home but both he and his parents pretend it's his dead sister#like his parents get so into it they cry and wail but they're just really committed to the bit#crocodile tears and then a pause to look through their fingers and resume type of bit
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
tbh Iâm more intrigued by the idea of college-age Reader getting pregnant while unmarried still living in the manor and NO ONE has any idea who the father is (maybe she does, but sheâs withholding that for now or maybe heâs not in the picture?) and itâs the biggest freak out ever. that just seems so fucking wild and potentially hilarious to me. and nobody noticing sheâs pregnant until sheâs farther along? or them finding out randomly?? imagine:
damian: you look pregnant. what is wrong with you.
reader: i am pregnant though
the batfam: ????????!!!!!!!!!! and then she proposes that now that sheâs old enough and starting a new chapter in her life raising a baby and all she should just move out! (cue everyone disliked that meme)
Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family
âïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïž
Part Two
âïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïž
A/N: Okay, I think I'm about to become a Pregnancy!Reader writer. Which, I'm not mad about. Kind think it would be fun, but I know the trope isn't for everyone. So, if itâs not your thing, Iâm sorry.
A/N: Some of this is based off of things from my own pregnancies.
A/N: Oh, no. Frick, I wanna make this a series now. Check the bottom, cause I have a plot idea for this and I want opinions on it. I spiraled, this was supposed to be a quick blurb. I got carried away. Gonna build up to the yandere shenanigans because Iâm turning into a writer with a million WIPs.
A/N: Tagging @skay-ali because I like their The Forgotten Daughter series.
Warnings: Fem!Reader, Very minor Yandere Themes (like barely there), minor NSFW, graphic descriptions of pregnancy and medical procedures, Vomiting.
âïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïž
You don't really remember that night it happened. But, it only happened once and after you swore you'd never drink again. The hangover after that night had been one of the worst of your short life.
In fact, the sticky feeling between your legs and bitter taste on your tongue had also added to your decision to swear of these college parties. Luckily, you have enough of your memory to remember that you and your partner from that night had both been willing even when wasted. Even if you couldn't remember their name. Or, their face.
It takes you a while to notice. One missed cycle wasn't anything to freak out about, and it was exam season. The stress had probably caused the nausea. It wasn't until you were heading down to breakfast one morning and smelled the burnt eggs in the kitchen that Stephanie had burnt that you realized something might be wrong.
You, of course, ignore it. It was just a fluke. Burnt eggs weren't appetizing to anyone. But, then you nearly faint walking through the perfume section after looking to restock your favorite bottle of scent.
The doctor you finally went to another week later had asked about your cycle and the last time you had been intimate with someone. That's when the reality of things started to set in. You hadn't even thought to do an at home test to check. Your doctor was kind though, saying they could just do a quick urine sample and blood test just to make sure. It might be something else.
The next few minutes felt like ages. But, when the Doctor came back to tell you the positive results you panicked. Not as in panicked as in you broke down, but you threw up a mask. You're good at doing that. You must get it from your father.
When she asks you if this is good news or bad news you can't help, but blurt that it's good. Great even. Which causes her to beam at you. Before you know it, you're being handed a complementary diaper bag with formula and tiny bottles while being given the rundown on your possible due date and future appointments. You nodded you're head along with the information, sliding the paper's into the diaper bag as she hands them to you.
But, then she turns to you with delight and tells you that the Ultra Sound tech has an opening and you're just far along enough they can do your first ultrasound. It'll only be a thirty minute wait.
After nodding along once more, you go back into the waiting room. Holding your new bag with white knuckles and falling into deep thought.
This is happening. But, how? Are you even fit to be a parent? You've hardly ever been loved. How are you going to love someone else? How are you going to do this? What will the family think? What will your few friends think? You don't even remember who their father is. This is impossible. You're not ready. You'll never be ready. That churning feeling is in your stomach again and you feel that single piece of toast you had for breakfast about to come back up.
The thirty minutes fly by with those thoughts in your head. They still swirl in your head as your go back into the ultrasound room.
It's dark, but the tech had few soft lights on in the room. Its actually kind of... cozy.
What's not cozy it the tech telling you that she's going to stick a wand up your bits so you could see the baby. Your eyes screwing shut at the cold invasive feeling.
But, when you open them, she turns the screen for you to see. It's almost amazing how fast the image appears on the screen.
And, their moving. Actually moving. You end up laughing at the sight, causing the screen to flicker and the little blob to move. When the nurse plays the heart beat you can feel yours stuttering in your chest.
Watching them bounce in there with each laugh, itâs easy for the next words to spill out of your mouth.
âOh, Iâm gonna love you.â
âïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïž
Every step after that feels remarkably less lonely. Itâs not just you anymore. You have someone who youâre going to love.
You donât bother telling the Family. Bruce would just lecture you on being reckless while the otherâs would judge you for it.
Honestly, you donât care if they did. This is your baby.
Funnily enough, for a house full of detectives and highly intelligent vigilantes no one actually notices. Not even Cassandra. Itâs a bit insulting how much they donât pay attention. But, your symptoms soon make it so you donât care.
The waves of exhaustion, the way everything smells strong and certain things make you want to gag. Heartburn that burns your throat. The subtle cravings that make you cry when you canât fulfill them. Thankfully you finished your exams because you were too tired to even move from your bed most mornings due to strange nightmares.
Eventually, someone does notice. And, itâs not anyone you would expect.
Of all things you cried over on the pantry floor, it had to be salt and vinegar chips. They hadnât been what you wanted, but it was too late to go get french fries and a smoothie at this hour in Gotham. And, you stuffed them down your throat with angry tears.
It was Stephanie of all people to find you. You gave her a sharp glare when she seemed to grow wide eyed. Normally you avoid her gaze, but you were quite pissed about having chips in your mouth and not fries. As her eyes grew wider, your nose wrinkled in further annoyance at her.
Just as youâre about to tell her off, she speaks.
âDo youâ um, want something else?â
Itâs pitiful how fast your snarl turns into a pleading pout.
âYes, please. I want fries. I want Jokerized fries so badly.â You practically blubber when she gives you a pointed nod towards the car garage.
It takes you a bit to get off the floor despite the fact that your bump is hardly noticeable, but Stephanie noticed the extremely subtle curve.
âHow far?â She asks hesitantly, looking from the bump to your face.
You also hesitant for a moment, looking up at her with tears on your cheeks and a serious look in your eyes. â14 Weeks.â
Her eyebrows raise and a wiry pout appears on her face. âDamn. Youâre smaller than I was at that time, so not fair.â
The slightly surprised that information gives you almost makes you pause. But, if you had you wouldâve probably toppled back down to the pantry floor.
âExplain on the way?â You ask, still a bit nervous. The two of you had never been close since you moved into the manor less than a handful of years back.
âSure.â She grins, leading the way.
As you both walk, she whispers. âDoes Bruce know?â
âDonât know. Donât care.â
âAh.â Stephanie managed to hide the winces from you.
When you two finally make into the car, youâre already feeling better about life. Youâre about to have your fries, and possibly a shake too. You didnât expect to have any company, but surprisingly itâs nice.
Stephanie drives, and get the fries to go. Munching on them as Stephanie drives you back to the manor. Her sharing her own pregnancy experience.
"Wait, so Tim dated you when you were pregnant with another dudes kid? Babe, forget being me being small, you got game."
"Damn right I do." She says smugly, stuffing her own fries in her mouth. "So, um, do you wanna talk about what happened with you?"
And, just like that your mood shifts.
"No."
"Oh- Oh! I'm sorr-" She starts up, and you can tell she's assuming the worst.
"Don't you start, Stephanie." You interrupt with a pointed glare. "I don't want to talk about it because it's none of y'all's business."
That makes her cough on her french fry. "Wait, wait, what do you mean? Don't you want help?"
"Nah, I got it." Comes your stubborn reply, glaring out the window as you dip your fry into the cheesecake milkshake.
"... You should tell Bruce." She suggest after a moment of awkward silence.
"What? So he can ignore his grandchild, too?" Your filter is none existent with your hormones all out of wack.
"He doesn't ignore you-"
"Oh, yes the fuck he does." Your firmly state. Growing a bit heated. "Y'all all figgin do."
Stephanie is about to roll her eyes, chalking your words to you just being unreasonable. But, then the thought starts to creep upon her with each passing building when she realizes this is the first time she's actually hung out with you. Ever.
"I'm sorry." She murmurs to you. The silence falling over you both as the cars continues back to the manor.
"... I'm only forgiving you because you bought my fries..."
"Really?! That's all I had to do?"
"What? I was desperate for this- Wait! Hang on. Stop the car. Stop the car-"
"What? Why?! Are you- OH! Fuck!"
You ended up regurgitating up all the fries you had just eaten. Right into your lap.
"Oooo, that's nasty." Stephanie says, cracking the windows.
"Is it bad that I still want to eat them?" You mumble to her, eyeing the remaining fries.
"Please, please, wait till we get back or I'm gonna hurl, too."
"Fine." Comes your reply. Your eyes drifting shut for a moment. "If you tell anyone I'm gonna tell Cassandra about your crush on her."
"How did you- Frick, you are more like Bruce then I realize." Her voice going from panic to begrudging realization.
"Now, that's offenseive."
"Oh, come on. You're kids gonna have some of Bruce's DNA too."
"Eww. Eww. Don't remind me."
The banter between you both coming back with ease.
When you make it back to the manor, parting ways for the night. You feel at ease. You may have made have finally made a new friend in all this and gained a pillar of support.
As you shower and finish off your fries, you can't help but think about the apartments you had been looking at. Wondering what Stephanie will thinking of your nursery ideas.
Down in the cave, Stephanie slowly walks down the steps. Realizing this might have just gotten complicated.
"You okay, Steph?â
âYeah. Yeah, Iâm okay.â
âïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïžâïž
A/N: Soooooo, what if, and hear me out, wee add some baby daddy drama to this?
A/N: Please note, I write a Reader that DID NOT grow up with the Bat Family, which means we could have some really really juicy drama here. But, we could just keep the options limited to just close friends of the Bat family.
A/N: What do y'all think? Baby Daddy drama? One of the Bat Boys the Daddy? One of the other vigilantes? Should I do a Baby Daddy poll? I just feel like this is an opportunity.
A/N: Also, Stephanie was a teen mom in some comics from my research. Which I think adds to this and gives her a better chance of bonding with Reader until shit goes down.
#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#platonic batfam#yandere dc#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfamily x reader#anon ask#answered asks#pregnant!reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him
I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that momentđ, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings
So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol
Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! đđ
Something Sweet
Sylus x Reader đ©ž
Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...
Genre: fluff!
Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones â), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era
| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
âSy, dâyou know what Iâm craving right now?â
âAlways, sweetie.â Sylus doesnât look up from his book. âNot now, though. Iâm tired.â
Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.
âNo,â you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. âThatâs not what I meant, you narcissist.â
He chuckles with his usual low timbreâ his gaze still not liftingâ and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. Youâre losing him.
âSy,â you say again, then with more of a whine: âSylus.â
His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. Theyâre set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. âWhat are you craving, sweetie?â
You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylusâs lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. âDo you remember that cafĂ© we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didnât think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we couldââ
âYeah?â His hand moves to your other foot.
âWell, they make theseââ
âMacarons.â
âYou remember?â
His smile widens like he remembers vividly. âKitten, how could I forget? Iâm still jealous of that sweet little treat. Youâve never made that face for me, and believe meââ he wiggles one of your toesâ âIâve tried.â
That had been one of the only times youâd truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the cafĂ© window, and youâd heaved Sylusâs damp coat from your shouldersâ giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ââŠthanksâ heâd given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.
You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylusâs eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.
After a few of the longest seconds of your life, heâd dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.
âTheyâre still the sweetest things Iâve ever tasted,â you tease now, just as youâd wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.
He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.
Youâre quickly out of breath. âSylus?â
âMmm?â
He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. âPlease?â
His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; heâs never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since youâd stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. âYouâre forgetting something, sweetie,â he murmurs gently. âWhy did we stop going to that cafĂ©, hmm?â
You shrug.
âIt closed, kitten,â he sighs. âMonths ago.â
âWhat?â
Not only did you already know thatâ you actually visited the cafĂ© on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the manâs tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.  Â
It's all coming back to you and youâre struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You canât go back there. It doesnât exist anymore, and youâll never taste sweetness like that again.
Your mouth has gone dry.
âSweetie?â Sylus prompts, because he notices youâre far away. âAre you alright?â
âYeah,â your voice wobbles, âI just really wanted⊠I mean, I really needed one of thoseââ
â⊠Macarons?â he finishes for you.
You burst into tears, and one day, youâll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantlyâ lost, for a momentâ before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. âNo, no, no,â he coos, âdonât cry, kitten, please. I didnât mean to⊠well, I didnât realiseâŠâ
He doesnât know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now heâs stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: âListen to me. Iâll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps thereâs another cafĂ© that couldââ
You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.
Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you canât have and the cafĂ© you canât return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.
Itâs like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? Itâs not a big deal. Itâs not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then thereâs Sylusâ your Sylus, devoted and adoringâ and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.
You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but heâs gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all thatâs left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.
âSylus?â you call out into the empty morning.
It isnât his fault, not really. You wouldnât want to be around you, either.
âŠ
Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.
The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea thatâs gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and heâ
He left you.
âSy?â you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.
âHey,â he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whateverâs turned the air sweet.
You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. âHey, really? Thatâs all youâve gotâ hey?â
Heâs kneeling for youâ on the floor, beside the couchâ so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. âWhat would you prefer, sweetie?â His lips are close to yours too. âGood evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?â
âHow about sorry?â you snap, because he isnât cute and he isnât charming.
He pouts. âWhy sorry?â
âBecause you left, Sylus!â You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because itâs still in the text box.
You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylusâs hand as he plucks it from the floor. Heâs more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.
It was a lot of thingsâ colourful, creativeâ not entirely tasteful. âMy, my, your highness,â he tuts, âso this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?â
âYouâre not valiant,â you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. âYouâreââ
âA heartless prick,â he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. âAnd whose fault is that, I wonder?â
âYou can have your heart back.â
âNope. Youâre stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Nowââ he sits back on his kneesâ âwould you please ask me about my quest?â
The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. âWhat quest, oh valiant knight?â
His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. âClose your eyes.â
You doâ whether youâre queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then thereâs a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know heâs using his Evol. âOpen,â he commands.
And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. âTa-da,â he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.
Youâre prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.
âSylus,â you gasp in disbelief, âhow did youââ
âIt doesnât matter,â he says; the story isnât for today, and heâs very, very tired. A few weeks from now heâll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old cafĂ©. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. âNow, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try toââ
You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. Itâs so impulsiveâ so recklessâ that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.
âEasy, sweetie.â His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. âI have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.â
He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. Heâd tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when youâre done.
âIt suits you,â you grin.
He yawns. âEverything does.â
You donât want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefullyâ showing tremendous restraintâ reach out to take his face in your hands. âYouâre amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, butâŠâ
âButâŠ?â
âI missed you. I like macarons, yeah,â you smile, âbut Iâd much rather have you.â
This time, he canât hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. âYou couldnât have said that before I spent the whole dayââ
His voice is strangled as you keel towards himâ slow and deliberateâ to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.
âSuch a lovely moment, kitten,â he muses, your head on his shoulder. âI do hope itâs sincere, and notâ sayâ an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.â
Thereâs another moment of quiet.
âDonât be silly, Sy,â you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.
#đrach is actually writing#sylus x reader#sylus#love and deepspace#lads sylus#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#qin che#sylus x mc#sylus x you#lads x reader#lads#lnds#l&ds
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
hourglass
in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.
18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k
Itâs been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.
About three months since you had an early Valentineâs Day celebration (even though you werenât a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesnât usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore youâd be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)
About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.
Youâd have liked him to stay later that night. Youâd have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.
âCurfew?â you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.
âActually, Iâm going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. Iâm going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.â
âOh my god, thatâs amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!â
A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore himâbut you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.
âI wanted to see you tonight because I wonât be here for Valentineâs Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,â he admits meekly.
If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.
The dreaded âwhat are weâ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other latelyâat least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friendsâyou act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like youâre his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many wordsâbut this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)
âFour whole days... what will I do without you?â you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of itâdespite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They donât ever start to feel shorter.
âWell, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.â
âDepressing,â you admit. âAnd a little ominous, considering youâre about to embark on a heroâs journey.â
âI think youâll like this one,â he smiles.
You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.
âGive me something to look forward to,â you say, earnestly.
âIâwell, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and Iâve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if thatâs something youâre maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time toââ
âYou want to kiss me?â
âWhâyou couldnât tell?â Spencer says, like he canât believe it.
As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.
Itâs too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. Thereâs no rush of adrenalineâit's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. Itâs a relief.
You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to himâbut then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.
âI really have to go,â he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. âIf I donât leave now Iâll be here all night.â
Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.
At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.
âIncentive for you to come home.â
Nearly three months since that night.
At first when he stopped answering texts, youâd assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understandâyou knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.
Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe heâs been called away on a case. It wouldnât be the first time heâs disappeared because of his work. But even then, heâd at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.
So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an âunforeseen work-related emergencyâyou called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.
When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.
Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.
Realized it was not at all a joke.
In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldnât (or more likely, wouldnât) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.
Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.
Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.
He doesnât want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. Youâre not on his list of approved visitors.
âYou asked him about me?â you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.
I tried. Iâm sorry. Iâll call you when I know more.
All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?
The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didnât want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you werenât crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didnât mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldnât do anything about.
That copy of The Odyssey, which wasnât even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for youâa tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to youâabout Lattimoreâs faith to the original text, Merrillâs strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammondâs prose just as much as he did.
Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.
He didnât want to see you.
He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasnât dead, but wouldnât do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you werenât exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didnât want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.
But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.
So you didnât really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. Iâll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what Iâm going to do with my life after school, but Iâll be damned if I donât even make it that far.
Hours later, well into the night, youâd all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. Youâre not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.
And you couldnât even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.
Surely youâre hallucinating.
Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didnât spend three months in prison pretending you didnât exist.
He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybeâand gaunter even more than is normal for him.Â
But it's him.
You canât think about the apprehensive look on his faceâyou canât think about the impossibility of him being here. You canât think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and heâs real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesnât flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just canât get him close enough.
âIâm sorry,â Spencer mutters into your hair, IâmsorryIâmsorryIâmsorryIâmsorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suitâtry to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.
âYouâdisâdisappeared,â you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.
Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.
âI know.â
He knows?
He knows?
You scoff.
âYou have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? IâI'mââ
The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.
âIâm sorry,â he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. Thereâs that kicked puppy look about himâand itâs familiar, but now thereâs more damage. You donât know anything about his time in prison, you havenât heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully presentâand you realize for the first time that he is different.
It chills you.
Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasnât one part of his internal machinations that you didnât understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.
He is so different.
Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymoreâonly an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.
Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.
He seems to have aged ten yearsâif not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.
You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
Youâre embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.
He says your name gently, with so much familiarity youâre briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But thatâs not fair to him.
âSorry,â you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.
âDonât apologize,â Spencer says immediately, âyouâre right. I donâtââ he clears his throatâ âIâm being incredibly selfish. I shouldnât have just shown up, Iâll justâI'll leave. Iâm sorry.â
A silent moment passes.
You donât look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.
Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your buildingâ
And suddenly youâre sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go againâand even though youâre still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.
âWait!â You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. âPlease, wait!â
The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.
âPlease donât leave again, you justâI'm sorry, I really need you to not goââ you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.
âIâm not going,â he breathes shakily. âI tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I canât.â
âYou canât,â you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he canât figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.
A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is acceptedâeither way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and youâre ready for it. You donât need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.
You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.
âIs this okay?â he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.
Ideally it wouldnât happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isnât ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But itâs hard to explain, and youâd rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you donât say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didnât think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but itâs a good ache because it means heâs real and heâs there.
You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that youâre wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.
Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You donât hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you donât even care. Neither does he, apparentlyâonce youâre inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like youâre already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like heâs holding himself back.
âIs this what you want?â
Thereâs an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isnât what he wanted for the two of you either. But youâre both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you donât need to say that, because he understands.
âYeah. Yes, this is what I want.â
For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and thereâs an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.
Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately youâre caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.
Heâs never been in here before. You find yourself glad itâs relatively cleanâone of the pastimes youâd picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.
A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it allâeyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. Youâre sure heâs spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.
Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?
In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because itâs another way he gets to know you. Itâs a different way to learn you from the inside.
You sense that heâs caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he canât anymore.
He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesnât. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.
âItâs fine,â you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. âItâs fine.â
He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still canât meet his eyes.
âWe donât have to doââ
âNo! No, please. I want to. I needâI need us to be okay.â
âHey,â he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. âWe are okay. Me and you are fine.â
Itâs a pretty thought, but itâs not true. In fact, itâs a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe youâre fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. Itâs especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didnât do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.
âI just need you to stay,â you whisper, and heâs already nodding, wide-eyed like heâd do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isnât all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He mustâve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened?Â
âOkay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?â
You sniffle and look back down.
âYou can untie that for me.â
He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.
âOkay.â
A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? Youâre sure you havenât stopped wanting it even once since then.
Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming heâs kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.
You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.
âSorry,â you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what youâre doing, especially when heâs wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.
âYouâre okay,â he assures you, and itâs so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happeningâthe thing youâd hoped to avoid if you hadnât lost momentum partway through, where youâre allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. âHere, can I help you?â
But he doesnât actually wait for an answer before heâs finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till itâs a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. Itâs heavier than you thought itâd be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.
You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesnât mean everything will be alright. Because it canât just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you havenât spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this heâs going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. Youâre almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where heâs been and what heâs enduredâthings youâre sure you couldnât have taken. What that does to a person, you canât imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you nowâbut you know thatâs not always enough. Maybe youâre just scared that somehow whatever heâs been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now youâll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe heâd stick around.
Stillâeven if you do end up pushing him further away in the long runâwon't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?
You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he canât ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease heâs gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.
âIf weâre going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.â
Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. Itâs a sick buzzâa high on an empty stomach.
âI canât,â you admit.
âYeah, you can,â Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When heâs sure youâre not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. âYou can.â
You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If heâs seen this hoodie on you and wondered whatâs underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.
Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.
Right. No shirt.
You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.
âI wasnât expecting guests.â
The words come out shy. Spencerâs chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.
âYou donât have to explain yourself to me.â
Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.
It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that youâd have said noâyou're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.
Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposedâbut Spencerâs hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.
âWait. Weâre... weâre uneven.â
Itâs a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically canât stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.
âWe are,â he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. âYouâre a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.â
âI donât believe you.â
The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencerâs golden eyes flash up to yours. Heâs breathing a little harder than usual.
âYou want me to show you what I mean?â
If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.
You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you donât mention that. Instead you swallowâyour thoughts, your words, your nausea.
âThatâs new.â
You wonder how you hadnât noticed it earlier.
He nods.
âA lot is new.â
It sounds almost like heâs challenging youâthere's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like heâs inviting you to say itâs ugly. And you realize heâs referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.
âI donât care. I wanna see you.â
Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You canât feel it against your cheek but you know it hasnât gone away.
âIâm sure you think you do,â he permits, and thatâs where the conversation ends for the momentâwith his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. âFor now why donât you let me worry about you?â
Obediently, you breathe, âokay.â
This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.
âI want... I want to give you slow. But...â
But slow is for people who didnât lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who donât know what itâs like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.
You understand the feeling.
âI donât need slow.â
Youâll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if thatâs what he needs. Youâll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.
âBut you want slow,â he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. Youâd keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. âI know you do. You deserve to get what you want.â
âI can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.â
Spencerâs shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long youâve needed him so badly. Itâs overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how youâll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.
âIâm going to try.â Spencerâs voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. âI want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...â
Now heâs sitting, and youâre standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if heâd find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyesâthe kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and heâd earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.
The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their babyâs painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossibleâto capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because youâve felt it for him.
âI thought about you all the time,â he whispers, doesnât bother calling you beautiful but you donât mind because heâs telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. âWhen I was gone, I thought about youââ
Youâre just as quiet, just as soft.
âDonât, Spencer.â
He doesnât get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didnât exist.
âOkay.â He swallows the things heâd wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. âIâm sorry.â
But his handsâhis hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like theyâre his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.
Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazesâin fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesnât seem to realize that heâs making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkenedâyou werenât expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.
âYou donât have to go that slow.â
A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and heâs emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.
âImpatient girl,â he scolds, and though itâs lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think Iâve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because itâs only sad and true and unkind.
Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and youâd swear heâs not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until itâs pressed to the mattress and youâre half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencerâs style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you donât mind it.
More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.
âI wasnât doing you justice with my imagination,â he murmurs against your mouth. âI couldnât have known.â
âCouldnât have known what?â you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.
âHow pretty you would be,â he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. âYou were holding out on me.â
Itâs a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, âWas not, asshole,â and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where youâre both a little less damaged. Where itâs a little easier.
But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it isâbrute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencerâs never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, youâll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.
His lips, thoughâalways his lipsâare kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you donât dare move for fear heâll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you wonât be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.
Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.
The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.
Heâs clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a  little was. Youâre okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if youâre not exactly okay with himâsomething you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesnât quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.
You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.
âIs this okay?â
You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?
âYou donât have to...â
âBut is it okay with you?â
Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, âYes, if thatâs what you want.â
Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but itâs difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and itâs finally happening but itâs not exactly as youâd imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way heâs so hungry for you because heâs been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because heâs had everything taken from him.
For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if heâs freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it couldâve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.
These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You donât have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?
All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong itâs almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesnât waste anymore time before heâs kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.
His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldnât have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and youâre unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails youâhell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.
The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though youâve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like heâs doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.
âAhâplease,â you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, youâre not sure.
Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.
ââM sorry,â you pant, âitâs been awhile, I...â
âDonât apologize,â Spencer says like itâs simple, his own breath coming quicker. âHowâre you feeling? Need me to stop?â
âNo! No, it feels really good, I feel good.â
He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.
âYeah?â
â...Yeah.â
This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. Itâs a different smile than youâre used to from him, but you decide you donât at all mind it.
Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you donât feel youâre missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like heâs cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?
Youâre reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like heâs signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but heâs climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until youâre gentle and pliant for him like you havenât been yet.
His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. âBetter?â
Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, youâre not sure. Not trust. You donât trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. Youâve completed something with him now, and heâs still here, still sweet.
He looks into your eyes, then, for a momentâand there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.
They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.
He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.
âI need you to remember itâs all going to heal.â
He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.
âWhat?â
Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that canât help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures heâd shown you from his early days at the BAUâbut it shines through occasionally even now. Itâs reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.
âJust...â his fingers donât stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. âPlease donât freak out, alright?â
Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.
And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isnât right.
Heâs like a Pollack of bruisesâstarbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.
Youâre glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you donât think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.
But you canât. You simply donât have the gas in the tank to freak out, as heâd saidâat least not externally. Those bruises shouldnât be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.
You drag your eyes back to hisânervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.
Itâs enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?
He doesnât seem to know what youâre going to do, and neither do you, until youâre grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.
âI lost weight,â he says quietly, as if thatâs the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.
âYouâre still pretty.â
He smiles at thisâa true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.
âI didnât have a lot to spare.â
A moment goes by.
âIâm not going to ask you about them,â you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he wonât want to tell you.
Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know itâs still the same Spencer.
âLie down.â
Oh. Right.
This.
You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.
Soon heâs coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of youâlingering not on the parts youâd expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he werenât in the way.
âYou alright?â He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. Itâs so hard to keep up.
âI...â
Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.
Maybe heâs changed, and heâs harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer youâd fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You donât know if heâd be able to hear it.
There are things you canât have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but youâd rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.
You swallow.
âIâm good.â
Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. Itâs hesitant, at firstâmaybe he can taste your thoughts, where theyâd been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. Thatâs the only way he knows how to want you.
When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that youâre going to have him like youâve never had him before and in ways youâve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.
âSpencer,â you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what youâre looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.
Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.
And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and itâs beyond perfectâit's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.
And youâre not even fucking yet.
âOh my god,â you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. Itâs like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where theyâre pressed togetherâthat is how hard itâs beating.
Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourselfâand then heâs kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you canât not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then heâs pushing in.
Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. Heâs not going anywhere, you think, and youâre glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.
âShh,â he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. âYouâre okay.â
Spencer. Your Spencer.
For a moment, youâre living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way heâs opening you up.
This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.
Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that heâs not giving you everything yet, but youâre okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.
âGood girl,â he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. âI thought you might like that one.â
âMhm.â
âMhm. How are you? You okay?â
ââM ready.â
âYouâre ready?â His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.
âFuck,â you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.
âOh, my god,â he groans, continuing with that slow pace, âyou feel so good, angel.â
You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. âFaster.â
This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. Itâs almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.
Thereâs nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what youâre feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But itâs too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You canât do it alone.
âSpencer.â
âHm?â
âI donât know...â the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.
âYou donât know?â
Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.
âDo you know how much I missed you?â
Itâs like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.
And while this topic was off-limits earlierâyou're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.
Spencer continues unprompted.
âI thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.â
You whine. Whether itâs pleasure or distress is anyoneâs guessâincluding your own.
âYou were gone so long,â you whisper, eyes shut.
At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.
âI know. I wish I couldâI wish I could change that. But Iâm here, okay? Iâm right here with you.â
Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, theyâd be something along the lines of:Â but for how long? How long until you leave again?
âYouâre here.â
You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This canât be faked. It canât be another dream to wake up in tears from.
âYouâre here,â you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.
âIâm here,â he breathes.
Thereâs so much you want to sayâthree months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleepâand in this moment you canât manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesnât tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs Iâm here Iâm here Iâm here over and over again against your skin until heâs not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.
Soon heâs adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.
âIâm sorry!â you squeak.
âDo it again.â
âWhâwhat?â
âPlease,â he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. âDo it again, honey.â
Honey.
Youâd do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.
When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you donât really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time heâs making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But youâre driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if youâre not sure how.
Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. âIâm not gonna last.â
Any response you mightâve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.
ââM gonna cum,â you mewl like itâs a secret.
âAre you?â he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, youâre sure youâd see him above you.
âMhm.â
âLook at me. Look at me.â
It is unmistakably a commandâone you fight to follow.
You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like youâd thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. Theyâre open in this moment for you.
No more words are spoken after thatâyou cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.
âFuck,â you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but youâre entranced by him, unable to look away now that youâre hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that heâll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lipsâa plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet itâs like he can read your mind. Echoes of Iâm here Iâm here Iâm here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.
Soon the kissing ceases and youâre just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.
Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. Itâs unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.
It canât last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.
Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. âIs your bathroom through that door?â
You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. Youâre further disturbed when you see thereâs gauze around his thigh, matching whatâs around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you heâll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.
He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuringâthe sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before heâs returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet youâd just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye youâre looking back to the ceiling.
âI shouldâve asked first,â he says quietly as he cleans up the mess heâd made of you.
You speak just as softly, like youâre both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. âItâs okay. I wouldâve told you if I didnât want it.â
His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.
When heâs done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.
âAre you gonna, like... hate me now?â
It was a mistake. Thatâs clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.
âAm I going to hate you?â
Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.
âNot hate, I just...â the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad heâs not immediately running out the door. âIâm not dumb. I know what this was.â
He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. âI never thought you were dumb.â
This is your first real conversation since heâs gotten back, you realize. And how quickly youâre falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.
The silence goes on longer than youâre used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.
Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.
âWhat happened?â
You said you wouldnât ask, but that was then, and youâre upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You donât know.
But it doesnât work.
âDo you really want to know?â Thereâs a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. Itâs a privilege to have him this closeâhis beauty is a constant surprise that youâd become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. âI... I did it to myself.â
He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though theyâve been waiting in the wings all night.
âWhat? Did youâwere you trying toââ
His eyes widen.
âNo! No, honey, no.â You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. âNo. I wasâit's complicated. I didnâtâI wasnât trying to hurt myself, but I had toâI had to do it before someone else did something worse.â
The bruises covering his abdomen.
You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. âWhy would they want to hurt you?â
Mist fills his eyes even as heâs looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if heâs two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.
âIâm... not... the same, as I was.â Itâs not an answer to your questionâbut itâs the beginning of the answer to a question youâd been too afraid to put into words.
âDonât say that,â you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like itâll make this easier.
âBut itâs true,â Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.
âYouâre just going to leave again.â
And youâre losing to the tears.
âIâm right here. Iâm not going anywhere.â
âBut you will,â you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.
âNot right now. Right now Iâm here.â
Iâll stay until you fall asleep again.
For now, maybe that has to be enough.Â
You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesnât tell you to stop.Â
Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes.Â
âWe were so close. Before you⊠we were almost there.â
Youâre sure of it. Youâre sure that if he hadnât gone when he did you wouldâve been a real couple. You wouldâve told him you loved him.Â
âWeâll get there again,â he promises, rubbing your arm. âI just⊠I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But weâre going to get there again.â
Maybe it will never be like it was.Â
But as so often is the caseâSpencer is right. Difference doesnât mean it wonât ever be good again.Â
You have to believe that, just as you had to believe youâd see him again.Â
You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table.Â
The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world.Â
But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms.Â
You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now.Â
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x you#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid angst
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
âThis isnât what I had in mind.â You hesitated to even stand on the rocky shore.
âWhaat? Câmon! Humans love swimming!â Mammon was not going to give up after driving you all the way out here. He tugged on your wrist, hoping you would follow. âTry it!â
âIâm good. I think Iâll stay here. Mammon, go have fun and Iâll watch.â You didnât even want to sit down. It was enough to stand in place and watch the lake.
âWhatâs a matter with it, huh?â
âItâs too hot,â Satan stated matter-of-factly.
âButt out! Nobody asked you.â Mammon kicked a cloud of gravel and stones towards his smart alecky brother, who just shrugged. âWhyâd you even tag along anyway?â
A vein above Satan's eye twitched. âYou came into my room, interrupted us, and dragged them away. Of course I was going to follow.â
Mammon dismissed Satan with a wave of his hand and shifted his focus back to you. âSo the temperature, that's really it? Donâ worry, youâll get used to it in no time!â
âIt is too hot, yeah. Iâll die,â you responded.
âQuit beinâ dramatic.â
âMammon. Iâll die.â
The lake was gorgeous, with views like you had never seen before. Truly breathtaking scenery that you never dreamed of witnessing in person. Shame that it was a lake of magma.
âJust dip your toes in. Do somethinâ fun.â
The message clearly wasnât getting through. You exchanged glances with a sympathetic Satan while Mammon took charge, splashing into the lake with exaggerated fervor. âWoo! Yeah, this is it! You two, get over here!â
Satan took a few steps forward and let the slow-moving waves ooze over his toes.
You were content to stand your ground. Heat seeped through the bottom of your shoes. While things were shallow at the shore, this volcano was pretty tall and you were all rather close to its peak. The magma in this crater must go down deep.
âHow is your swimsuit okay?â you suddenly called out over the bubbling gases.
Mammon managed to hear you from some distance away. He stopped splashing around and began floating on his back. âWhaddya mean?â
You gestured at his shorts. âWouldnât those burn up?â
Mammon gazed at the clouds and let the lava push him back towards shore.
Satan was able to provide a satisfactory explanation. âTheyâre imbued with our magic. If we took them off and threw them in, the residual magic would first burn up over several minutes and then the fabric would catch fire. Want to see?â
You considered it. This science experiment sounded better than swimming in a billion-degree sea, but then somebody would be lacking pants for the drive back home. âThatâs okay.â
#the definitely not awkward and very chill no pants car ride for 2 hours#obey me#obey me!#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me scenarios#obey me swd#obey me x mc#obey me fanfic#obey me x reader#obey me x you#obey me x gender neutral mc#obey me fandom#obey me writing#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x you#obey me mammon x mc#obey me mammon x reader#obey me satan#obey me satan x reader#obey me fanfiction#obey me drabble
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
A party for three
As usual, you and your boyfriend Taehyung travel by van to the same festival the both of you have been going to since you first started dating. But when you run into his best friend at the festival, you suddenly end the night with your pussy filled to the brim.
Contains: Everyone is under the influence, drunk, threesome, dubcon cause nobodyâs thinking clearly, yn gets called a slut, double penetration in pussy <- yn winces and says itâs too tight but Tae encourages her, yn cries out of pleasure, riding, missionary, doggystyle, boobplay, multi orgasm, just fucking with literally zero thoughts
Admin note: fuck me I wrote this all on the tumblr app and it didnât fucking save and I had to do it AGAIN!! :)
â
It was a warm night in the middle of summer as you and your boyfriend, Taehyung, pulled up in the parking lot of a venue you knew all too well. The two of you had been coming to this exact music festival for a few years now, and tonight was just the same as any other.
Or so you thought.
You cheered as one of your favorite bands entered the stage and took the crowd by storm, their fans immediately beginning to crowd the stage and the surrounding area.
Taehyung, on the other hand, wasn't even watching the band. He was busy watching you, your smile lighting up your entire face as you swayed your hips to the music and sang along to the lyrics. When you felt his eyes on you, you glanced over at him, smiling at him before you stepped closer and gave him a peck on the lips.
"Are you enjoying the show?" You asked him, giggling.
He shrugged. "I am now," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him.
You giggled at his words; not sure if it was because you were tipsy or because you were amused by his cheesiness, but nonetheless he made you giggle.
A tap on his shoulder caught him by surprise and he turned around in confusion before a grin made his way to his face.
âHey!â Jimin greeted cheerfully, (he was Taehyungâs best friend), waving at the two of you.
âHey! What are you doing here?â Taehyung asked, which earned a playful push from Jimin.
âDude, the same as you two are doing here, obviously, except I donât have a pretty girl on my arm.â
You smiled at his compliment and reached over to give him a hug, and he hugged you back.
Jimin tagged along with the three of you, and the band was still going strong and performing, so you all decided to continue partying together. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and you were definitely a bit more than tipsy at this point. Your head was spinning, your body felt light, and you couldnât stop giggling as you leaned into Taehyung for support, who was also quite drunk.
The band played a song that was more on the slower side, so everyone was moving along to the music rather than jumping up and down like they had been earlier.
"Hey," Taehyung murmured in your ear, and you turned around to face him, "want to head back to the van and relax a bit?"
You nodded in response.
âJimin? You coming with us or staying here?" You asked, turning to his best friend.
âYeah, letâs go.â
And with that, the three of you walked out of the venue and to the parking lot, where you all stepped into the van; it was one of those fancy ones, the really big vans that had a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchenâ it was fucking expensive but Taehyung insisted that it would be cool for road trips and it definitely was.
You flopped down on the bed and closed your eyes, your head spinning, and a few seconds later you felt the bed sink a bit, and you opened your eyes to see that it was Jimin, and he was staring at you.
"Y/N, I have been curious for a while... can I ask you something?" He said, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Sure." You responded, curious as to what he wanted to know.
"Your boobs, they look really soft, can I touch them? I've always wanted to feel them."
You laughed, his bluntness amusing you. âOkay.â
He reached his hand forward, and you watched as he gently cupped your breasts through your bra. He squeezed them a few times, and then he looked up at you. "Can I touch you under your shirt?" Jimin asked, his eyes hopeful.
You were feeling bold (probably due to all the stuff you took), and also very turned on, so you nodded. "Go ahead."
With your permission, he pushed your shirt up and over your head, and you sat up and unhooked your bra, letting it fall off of your shoulders. And then before you knew it, you and Jimin were cuddled up, your back rested against the wall as he laid on top of you, sucking on your tits and groping your boobs.
You had one hand resting on his head and the other found itâs way between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your shorts, moaning at the sensation.
Before you knew it, Jiminâs cock was in his hands, and he was pushing your shorts to the side and grinding his erection against your clit before it slipped in and was sliding in and out of you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as he pounded into you, the two of you breathing heavily.
"Fuck, Y/N, you're so wet, baby," he moaned, thrusting his cock in and out of your pussy, his hips snapping against your ass, "so good, fuck."
You were panting, throwing your head back as his cock slammed into you, over and over.
The door then creaked open, and you looked over to see that it was your boyfriend, standing in the doorway. However, he didnât seem fazed by the fact his girlfriend was getting fucked by his best friend. Instead, he stepped forward and crawled onto the bed, next to you. He grabbed hold of your face and kissed you, his tongue slipping past your lips, and you could taste the alcohol on his breath. His fingers trailed to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb as he continued to kiss you.
Taehyung pulled away, taking in the sight of his best friendâs cock drilling into you.
âGood pussy?â Taehyung asked with a chuckle.
"Very good pussy," Jimin replied, moaning as he thrusted his cock in and out of you, "gonna beat it up so good, gonna fuck it all up," he groaned, his hand reaching down to grab onto your tit.
âMmhmm, I know how much she likes her pussy getting beat up. Do you like having your pussy beat up, baby?" Taehyung cooed.
You could only whimper, your mouth hanging open and your eyes squeezed shut.
âShe loves it, dude, look at her," said Jimin, smirking.
Taehyung watched in awe as you rode his best friend's cock, your walls fluttering around his thick length. Taehyung could no longer ignore his hardening cock, so he reached down and unzipped his jeans, his erection springing free.
You felt him press his cock against your cheek, and you opened your eyes to see him holding his errection, the head rubbing against your cheek.
"You want it, baby?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly, opening your mouth. He guided his cock towards your mouth, and you opened it wider to take it, allowing him to slide it between your lips.
As you sucked on his cock, he ran his fingers over your arms before he held onto your hand and watched as you bobbed your head up and down, slurping and sucking on his shaft, your mouth full of his cock.
âJiminâŠâ You whined, spreading your legs as far as they could, allowing his cock to slam into you even deeper, and it was driving you crazy.
"What's wrong, miss Taeâs girlfriend? Can't take anymore?" He teased, grinning as he watched your face contort in pleasure, Taehyungâs cock slipping out of your mouth. Jimin grabbed you by the hips, holding you in place as he adjusted himself, fucking you from a deeper angle. Taehyung wrapped your fingers around his shaft, and you started to rub him off, watching as Jimin drilled into you.
"Such a pretty little slut, taking me and Tae's cock, I bet your pussy's just dying to get fucked, isn't it, slut?" Jimin asked with gritted teeth.
You cried out in response, your eyes rolling back in your head, and soon you were cumming, your pussy squeezing and contracting around his cock.
Taehyung stroked himself faster, watching as you came, and Jimin pulled out, wanting to feel your mouth around his cock, while Taehyung took his place, lifting you off the bed and putting you on his lap, facing him.
You sunk yourself onto his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck as you started to ride him, and he thrusted his hips upward, meeting yours.
âYeah babe, ride my cock just like that, bounce on my dick," Taehyung encouraged, groaning as he watched you bounce up and down on his shaft, his hands resting on your hips.
Jimin stood next to the bed, jerking himself off as he watched you get fucked, and he stepped closer to you and held his cock out, and you immediately took him into your mouth, moaning as you moved your head back and forth, taking him all the way in.
âLove it?â Taehyung cooed, his hands moving to your ass and squeezing your cheeks.
âLove it so much," you managed to say, the two of them thrusting their cocks in and out of you.
"Love your holes filled with my cock and my best friend's, don't you, baby?" Taehyung whispered as he caressed your face.
"Yes, Tae, love it, love cocks so much, please," you begged, your voice a whimper.
"Gonna fuck you until you're sore and can't walk," he said, smirking as he slapped your ass, "want two cocks in your pussy? Think you can handle that?â
âShe wants two cocks?â Jimin pulled his errection out of your mouth, stroking himself as he stared at your pussy.
Taehyung lifted you off his dick, turning you around, your back against his chest and his dick pressed against your ass.
"Jimin's cock is nice and big too, so I think it'll be a tight fit. Think you can handle that, babe?"
âPlease, want them,â You giggled, rolling your hips impatiently, âput cock in me, I want it."
Taehyung grabbed hold of his cock and pushed the tip into you, and then slowly lowered you down onto him, letting out a hiss as your sweet pussy engulfed him.
You leaned back into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your stomach. He began to pump his cock in and out of you, his eyes falling closed.
"Mmhmm," he hummed, "love your pussy, so good, babe."
"I love it too," said Jimin, climbing onto the bed, his cock brushing against your thigh, still rock hard. âWhere do I put it in? Donât see space, too tight."
You were about to open your mouth to tell him where to put it, but before you could, Taehyung spoke first.
"Just push it in on top of mine," Taehyung told him, "don't worry, she'll make space."
Jimin did what he was told, and you felt him start to push in, at which you winced and whimpered.
"Shhh, you'll be okay," cooed your boyfriend, his hand going to your clit and rubbing it gently, "just relax and let it happen, baby. Don't worry, we're not gonna hurt you, promise.â He whispered against your ear, before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.
âToo tight, too fullâŠâ You whimpered, squirming in his arms, but he held you in place, his grip tightening around your waist.
"Baby, I can feel Jiminâs cock, itâs almost in all the way, you feel it too? He's rubbing his cock against mine," said your boyfriend, chuckling softly.
"Yeah, yeah," Jimin breathed, finally pushing his cock all the way in, letting out a deep groan, "fuck, so tight, fuck."
The two of them started to move, and the sensation of having both their cocks inside of you was almost too much to bear.
"Please, don't stop, don't stop," you chanted, tears streaming down your cheeks as they pumped their cocks in and out of you, stretching your pussy even further, filling you up so perfectly.
They both began to speed up, and the room was filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans, along with the sound of your pussy squelching as they fucked it.
"Shit, she's milking my cock," said Jimin, his hands grabbing onto your thighs, pushing your legs back as he drilled into you. Taehyung never lost his rhythm, pounding upwards with a steady pace, his cock hitting all the right placesâ while Jimin pushed in, Taehyung pulled out, when Taehyung took a break, Jimin didnât stop, and occasionally youâd be double drilled when theyâd both push their cocks in at the same time, the sensations overwhelming and mind numbing.
You cried out as your pussy began to spasm, and soon you were cumming again, the two of them fucking you through it, their dicks continuing to pound into your pussy, not slowing down for a second.
âOh, oh!â Your eyes rolled back, mouth wide open and drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. You didnât know how you were taking two cocks at the same time, but you were, and it felt amazing.
After the double penetrating, you ended up in the arms of your boyfriend who fucked you missionary style, the two of you making out while he thrusted into you, his tongue down your neck and his hands exploring your body, squeezing your breasts as he enjoyed your pussy. Then after, Jimin took over and fucked you doggystyle, your legs spread and back arched as his cock rammed into you from behind, your ass jiggling each time his hips met yours.
You didnât know how long the three of you managed to keep it up, but you fell asleep somewhere between the sex, and when you woke up the sun was shining through the curtains and you were wrapped in a blanket.
Taehyung was heard in the kitchen, presumably making breakfast.. or lunch.
You sat up, wincing as your muscles ached and the events of last night replayed in your head.
That was just a fucked up wet dream, right?
Your boyfriend stepped into the room, holding a plate.
"Hey babe, here, I made you some breakfast, thought you needed it after last night."
#bts x reader#bts smut#bts requests#bts smut requests#bts fanfic#bts smut fanfic#taehyung smut#jimin smut#taehyung x female#taehyung x yn#Jimin x female#jimin x yn
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Small Victories
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.
âĄâĄ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo âĄâĄ
5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...
âĄâĄ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know âĄâĄ
You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.
You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.
If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.
The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.
You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.
So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.
Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.
There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.
When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.
"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.
The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.
"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.
"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.
"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.
He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.
"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.
"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.
"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.
"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.
The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.
"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.
"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."
Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.
"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.
He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.
"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin⊠recover a debt quicker."
Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.
He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.
"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."
His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.
"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.
"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.
"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,â You said, standing your ground as best as you could.
He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.
"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."
"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.
He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.
"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."
"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.
He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"We'll see about that."
And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.
You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.
It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.
The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.
You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.
You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.
The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.
The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.
The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.
She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.
"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.
"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.
"The prince requested a woman's company,â She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.
"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.
"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.
You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.
"Very well, madam."
You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.
Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.
He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.
His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.
The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.
The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.
The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.
Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.
The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.
You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.
Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.
"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.
You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.
The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.
When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.
You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.
"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.
"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.
"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.
"Now."
The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.
"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.
"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."
You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.
You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.
You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.
"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.
"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.
He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.
"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.
"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.
"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."
"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.
He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.
"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.
"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.
He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.
"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.
You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.
"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.
"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.
"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.
You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.
"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.
You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.
He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."
You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.
Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.
"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.
He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.
"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.
Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.
He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.
You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.
He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.
He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.
"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."
You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.
He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.
He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.
"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"
You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.
"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.
The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.
You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.
You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.
His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.
"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"
"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.
He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?â
"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.
"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."
His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.
"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."
You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.
"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.
"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.
He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.
"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.
He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.
His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.
He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.
Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.
You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.
You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.
"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.
You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.
He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.
He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.
"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.
He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.
You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.
He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.
"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.
You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.
He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.
"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"
You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.
"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.
You gripped his forearms and nodded.
He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.
He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.
"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.
You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.
He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.
He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.
You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.
You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.
"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.
You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.
You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.
He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.
He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.
Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.
He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.
He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.
"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.
He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.
He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.
And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.
Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.
#house of the dragon#hotd#prince daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen smut#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen fanfic#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#hotd x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd fic#hotd imagine#daemon x y/n#daemon x you#daemon x reader#daemon smut#hotd daemon#house of the dragon smut#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon x reader#hotd fanfiction#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
OMG I JUST NOTICED YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN THAT JUST MADE MY DAY!!!!
anyways can you do headcanons for bllk character introducing you to either their teams or the press iykwim
pretty please I loveeeee your posts so much <333333
Introducing their s/o to their team - isagi, kaiser, rin, hiori, chigiri
m.list | rules
Note : Hiii you're so cute lslsls thank you sm for your request <3 I chose this one cause somebody else asked about the press finding out so I'll do both !
Nobody is mentioned so I'll choose but feel free to ask for your fav !Â
IsagiÂ
He's so shy but happy omg
He's probably blushing if they keep saying how pretty you areÂ
Those who ask a bit more about you earlier to isagi will probably start a conversation more easilyÂ
But you love to talk with everyone!
If you're famous, they'll ask about it or how you two meet or even about your jobÂ
But if you're someone like you and me they're begging to know how you two meetÂ
They're probably expect something really cheesy based on isagi himselfÂ
He probably get teased a lot afterwards but he takes it easyÂ
heâs just so happy you can finally meet themÂ
RinÂ
heâs pretty but awful so everybody think heâs bitchless
no need to say that they GASPED when he introduced you
you seem so sweet, what are you doing here ?
âHe paid you ?â i definitely see some of them ask you that - like bachiraÂ
wait until you tell them that you asked him and he wasnât planning of doing without you mentioning itÂ
theyâre shocked, they feel betrayed and are ready to make a scene to him before you calm it downÂ
everybody want to know more about you, asking you lot of questions to the point that rin has to claim you backÂ
holding your waist or wrist to remind you that heâs there tooÂ
I think it goes more simply that he imagined at firstÂ
He's always happy when they ask about you even if he doesnât show it
ChigiriÂ
just like that time they react when they saw his sister, they will ask him who you are even if itâs obvious that youâre his s/oÂ
one or two would probably ask you out on a date to make him mad - tbh itâs really funny to see
heâll blush and become protective over you, adorableÂ
he would roll his eyes at their jokes but as long as youâre laughing at them, itâs fine with him
heâll get tease by the gaze he sent you all night, sweet and soft, speaking all the love he has for you before his tongue canÂ
heâs a bit cash if theyâre doing to much though, they have to be careful around his loverÂ
Hiori
he talks about you regularly so theyâre all happy when he mentions that youâll tag along for a team meal theyâre HYPE
theyâre so happy to see you itâs cute, you wish every partner is welcome that wayÂ
youâre so soft spoken it totally make sense that you ended up with himÂ
youâre probably a little reserved and overwhelmed at first but theyâre calmer than you thoughtÂ
itâs also a lot funnier than you thought so, even if you stay glued to hioriâs side, you can enjoy the night to the fullest !Â
he checks on you frequently, catching a lot of eyes and they make sure to let him knowÂ
you two are just so cute for sure damn couple goalÂ
KaiserÂ
ness is jealous lmaoÂ
heâs very cocky and proud to introduce you to themÂ
youâre so precious and most importantly : youâre his - he canât just keep it to himselfÂ
sharing the world about you start with his teammates
heâll tell them how you two meet and how you fall in love with him - as if he wasnât the one down bad - with his arm around your shoulders to keep you closeÂ
he trusted them but they canât touch <3 even in a friendly wayÂ
youâre really welcome though, theyâre all very interested in you and your life/jobÂ
it goes pretty smoothly, even if ness is a little saltyÂ
SaeÂ
heâs reluctant to say the least, he knows he wonât see the end of itÂ
youâre amazing, he loves you unconditionally
but youâre so good like that that he knows he will have to deal with them asking how youâre doing and he doesnât like itÂ
he says yes anyway, and one day he brings you with him at an unofficial meetingÂ
theyâre so shocked but happy to see you in real life (youâre on his lock screen) : they want to know everything
sae is a rather intimate person and doesnât talk much about his personal life so youâre the one who will tell them the cheesy stuff
yes you received death glares, you you still answer them with a big smileÂ
youâre funny, they already really love you and they canât wait to see you more around
I hope you liked it !
#blue lock x reader#blue lock headcanons#blue lock fluff#blue lock hc#bllk x reader#bllk headcanons#bllk hcs#bllk fluff#sae x reader#sae headcanons#sae hc#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi headcanons#isagi fluff#kaiser x reader#kaiser fluff#kaiser hcs#michael kaiser#hiori x reader#hiori headcanons#hiori fluff#hiori yo x reader#chigiri x reader#chigiri headcanons#chigiri hcs#chigiri fluff#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#rin hcs
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Parings: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x reader
Summary: You fall asleep on the ghoulâs shoulder.
A/N: VERY SHORT!! theres not much plot haha. i just had this cute idea so why not write it out. i honestly feel like iâve made a âfall asleep next to the characterâ fic to every character i wrote so farđ
âDarlinâ, I sure as hell ainât gonna sit around here all day just cause you didnât get enough sleep last night. Nobody gets good sleep up here. Itâs-â
He stops mid sentence when he feels the weight of your head drop on his shoulder.
You and him had a confusing relationship dynamic. You ran into each other looking for something similar. A bounty. After a bit of talking, you asked if you could tag along with him. He made it clear that he doesnât do âduosâ or anything of the sort. But if you found something along the way, he thought it would be better if you shared it with him other than not. You looked young. Young people tend to have more of an eye for things, he thought. Even though he was sure heâd find the bounty no problem, why not enjoy a bit of company? He ended up agreeing.
You two have stopped for a minute because you complained that you were getting tired. You havenât slept in a while, due to being a bit paranoid about all the creatures that could sneak up and kill you. Plus you were alone. Being alone out here and having your guard down was most likely to get you killed.
Having someone with you, especially him, made the tension ease off you a bit, and you could feel the tiredness effect you more.
You sat down, your back laying against a wall. He sighed and reluctantlyïżŒ sat down next to you.
âDarlinâ, I sure as hell ainât gonna sit around here all day just cause you didnât get enough sleep last night. Nobody gets good sleep up here. Itâs-â
He stops mid sentence when he feels the weight of your head drop on his shoulder.
He looks over and down at you in disbelief. Did you really just.. fall asleep on his shoulder? Do you know who he is? Heâs feared by mostly everyone on the surface.
He realizes that this means heâll be taking a longer break than he wanted. If he moved, you might wake up. And he thinks that itâs better to have a fully rested person travelling with him than a sleep deprived one.
He sighs and leans back.
âBetter get some rest too, then.â He mumbles as he shifts his hat so itâs now over his eyes.
He feels you adjusting slightly, face pressed in his jacket.
He must admit, itâs nice to feel this sort of touch after 200 years of nothing but violence and death.
#my works#:ghoul#fallout#fallout x reader#ghoul#ghoul fallout#ghoul x reader#ghoul fallout x reader#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard#the ghoul x reader#ghoul/cooper x reader#fallout ghoul x reader#ghoul x you#cooper howard x you#fallout fic#also why does he look so pookie in this gif omg
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
KINKTOBER DAY 17 â APHRODISIACS. dan heng (hsr) x f!reader! ïŸ link to return to kinktober 2024 masterlist & taglist
itâs only natural that youâd try to play it off, especially when he had already warned you about this ahead of time. your bad, youâll admit. unfortunately for you though, this aphrodisiac is one of the strongest, and it wonât be going away anytime soon.
CONTAINS â aphrodisiacs, hints of mutual pining, marking, wall sex, squirting (reader cums from him putting it in)
To your surprise and nobody elseâs, Dan Heng was right after all.
A small part of you knew he was when he had initially warned you- advised that you stay on the Express because youâd make for an easy target, but you also couldnât deny that youâd much rather join him than stay cooped up in your room all week.
Any time with Dan Heng is better than no time with Dan Heng, or so you thought. Maybe if youâd pictured this outcome in your head a bit earlier, you wouldnât have tagged along.
But youâd also rather die than admit you were wrong.
The Expressâ hallway looks hazy when you try to make your way back to your room after wishing him a good night. Similar to how the world appears when youâve come down with a high fever. You think you can feel the blood buzzing in your ears, and it wasnât even a direct hit. Youâre certain of this fact- youâve always been quick on your feet.
But this one has already started to make you feel lightheaded.
The thought of him taking notice of how your nails dug into his door frame earlier to prevent yourself from collapsing onto the floor haunts you a little. Heâs so observant that youâre surprised he hasnât said anything yet- besides a couple glances and maybe one or two concerned âAre you alright?â
Perhaps he really didnât know, and you were just that capable of hiding the fact that youâve been hit with one of the strongest aphrodisiacs in existence.
Though that seems unlikely.
It seems to only worsen with each passing minute. Switches from the initial dull ache between your legs to a sharp throbbing, and you feel so hot. Feverish. Maybe even delirious at this point. It takes all the strength in your body just to roll over in bed and flip open your computer to search if aphrodisiacs can actually kill.
You sure hope not. Whatâll happen if youâre dead by morning? Having never kissed Dan Heng a single time?
You donât even want to imagine a life with that kind of depressing end.
Itâs possible that you ended up lasting for another thirty minutes at least. Maybe five in reality. Though itâs hard to keep track of time when youâre rubbing your cunt back and forth against your pillow like itâs the last thing youâll do. Imagining that itâs him youâre straddling only seems to make it even worse.
You want him so bad.
Thatâs why after some time, you find yourself in front of his room again- head hanging low, chest rising up and down in heavy pants, and your legs barely able to hold up your weight. You donât even bother facing him. Not when you can already tell what face heâs making when he says the words,
âI told you that you shouldnât have come along.â
If you wanted to give him a sheepish laugh, it only comes out as a pained whine instead. âS-sorry,â your eyes widen at how strained your voice sounds, and you think you see him stiffen in front of you. âDo you thinkâŠ.. um, do you know to fix it?â
It falls eerily silent.
â..PleaseâŠ? I canât⊠canât really.. ask Welt for help.â
âDonât ask Welt.â His voice softens ever so slightly, but you think thereâs something unfamiliar behind it. You suck in a sharp breath as soon as he takes a step forward to reach around you and close the door behind youâ slowly, as if giving you time to change your mind. âI know how to help.â
Your first thought is that he smells nice. Really, really nice. Youâve always thought that heâd smell good, but with the way you are now, itâs intoxicating. Your knees almost buckle, and you hope he doesnât hear you swallow a gulp.
You could just lift your arm and touch him. You could pull him in for a hug and take a deep inhale straight into his chest. You could bury your face deep in-
âIf I were to help you fix this, then I would need to touch you.â Your eyes widen, walls instinctively fluttering around nothing at the suggestion. His words carry more weight to them, and you at least know Dan Heng well enough to recognize this as his way of asking if youâre okay.
And youâre much, much more than okay with receiving his help.
âPleaseâŠ. yes please.â
Time seems to slow down as he closes the distance between the two of youâ backs you up until youâre pressed against the wall and your face heats up. Your entire body follows as soon as you look at him, head fuzzy and clouded and youâre barely able to process just how close he is.
This is something youâve always wanted. Maybe even dreamed about.
âIâŠâ your eyes slam shut when you feel him hike up your skirtâ slowly, and his fingers briefly ghost over your waist before he finally slots his thigh between your legs and nudges. âF-fuck..!â Your head falls back, back of your hand instinctively coming to hide your faceâ and he freezes.
That sensitive? You didnât know it was possible for it to worsen. If you werenât in such a daze, maybe youâd feel more embarrassed about it. âClose your eyes,â his voice is so close that it sends a shiver down your spine, âand let me touch you more.â
You listen. Itâs a confirmation to him that you desperately need his helpâ because you never listen. âYouâre lucky that you werenât hit directly,â you feel him tilt your chin up, and a part of you wishes you could hold itâ nuzzle your cheek against his palmâ but then something suddenly clicks in your head.
â..You⊠you sawââ
His lips slot against yours the next second. Just one peck, and then another. It shuts you up immediately- sends a weird warmth coursing through your body and bubbles up in your core. Feels good. Feels good and he hasnât even started. He pulls away, only to mumble a âyeah. I saw everything. I always keep an eye on you because you never listen..though I couldnât make it to you in timeâ before his lips are back on yours.
To his surprise, you keep your eyes shut like he told you to. Maybe itâs all too much for you to take in, so closing your eyes and focusing solely on how he feels is the only way you know youâre not dreaming. Your body goes into overdrive, knees buckling as soon as he deepens the kiss and you almost moan when you feel him wrap an arm around you to keep you upright.
Youâre practically melting. Melting into the kiss- letting him pull you even closer and letting him press his thigh into your cunt. Everything after that becomes a blur in your head. Where you end and he starts is something you donât bother thinking about. Itâs a mess of kissesâ deep and full of tongueâ and he trails them down your neck, ends just below your ear after heâs kissed every inch of your skin.
Youâre certain heâs left marks, but his lips feel too good for you to care. The exact moment when he picked you up to press your back against the wall never registered in your head either. You only open your eyes when you finally feel him prod at your hole, and your heartbeat is practically thumping against your ribcage. âIâm going in. Hold tight.â
He starts to pushes inside, and your vision goes white. âWaitâ w-waiââ You choke, embrace around his neck slipping, loosens just a bit too much and you sink down onto his lengthâ mouth falling open in a silent scream as soon as he bottoms out in one rough motion.
It hits you all at once. A violent orgasm that rips from deep inside you- one youâre not quite familiar with- has you screaming into his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles of his back as you gush all over him. He practically growls at the feeling, fingers digging into your thighs even when they tremble and jerk against him.
The room falls silent aside from your panting and his breathing. Your walls spasm around his thickness- strongly feeling the aftershocks, and he feels your slick dripping down his cock and onto the floor beneath you.
ââS n-no fair at all,â you whimper, âfeels too good. Iâm almost scaredââ
âDonât say things like that.â If it was even possible, he holds you even closer. Even with the softness in his voice, you can tell heâs struggling to hold back. âYou donât need to think about anything,â he reminds you, âjust hold tight and let yourself feel everything.â
âTrust me to take care of it.â
dividers by @ cafekitsune
#hsr smut#hsr x reader#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng smut#hsr dan heng#hsr imagines#hsr fanfic#hsr x you#hsr drabbles#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#honkai star rail dan heng#dan heng#eviewriting#dan heng x you
927 notes
·
View notes