#it's not humor that lets you or the characters breathe

[reidmarieprentiss]

Oops: Wrong Person

Summary: Spencer and you share a steamy night together, but when you go to spill the details to Emily, you accidentally send the text to the person of interest... will Spencer see it before you can fix things?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: NSFW (18+) additional warnings under the cut, alcohol consumption, talks of hangover, mention of a gun, sending text to wrong person, happy ending

Word count: 7.2k

a/n: shout out to @imagining-in-the-margins for pulling me out of my writers slump with their wrong recipient challenge !!! not proofread :/

prompts used: Character sends their friend a detailed review of their recent sexual encounter… and accidentally sends it to the person they’re reviewing

Character enlists Penelope’s help in hacking into someone’s device to delete an unintended message

main masterlist

Additional warnings: allusions to sex, oral (fem receiving)

The evening began innocently enough—just another night out with the team, exchanging stories and letting Penelope’s latest matchmaking attempts provide ample fodder for laughter. You and Spencer had been particularly unlucky in love lately, both of you enduring one disastrous date after another. Penelope had insisted she had "the perfect person" for each of you, but after a string of ill-suited setups, neither of you were optimistic. It was that shared frustration that had the two of you lingering over drinks a little longer than usual, swapping stories of cringe-worthy encounters and commiserating over your shared loneliness.

The conversation flowed more easily as the alcohol loosened your tongues, and you found yourselves laughing more, teasing less, and unearthing unexpected commonalities. Spencer wasn’t just the brilliant, socially awkward genius you’d always known—there was warmth, wit, and a surprising sense of humor that made you start to see him in a different light. For his part, Spencer found himself captivated by the way your eyes lit up as you recounted your tales, his usual nervousness fading as he grew more comfortable in your presence.

When the team decided to call it a night, Spencer insisted on walking you home. "You shouldn’t be out alone this late," he said, his tone firm but his gaze soft. The cool night air sobered you both slightly, but the buzz of the evening lingered as you strolled side by side. When you reached your front door, you turned to thank him, but Spencer hesitated. There was a moment—a pause filled with unspoken words—before he asked, almost shyly, "Can I kiss you?"

The question caught you off guard, but the answer came easily. “Yes,” you whispered, and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, tentative at first but quickly deepening with urgency. The kiss ignited something you hadn’t expected, and before long, the two of you were tangled in your sheets, surrendering to the pull of the moment.

But now, as the morning light crept through the blinds, unwelcome and far too bright for how your head pounded and your stomach churned. The first thing you registered was warmth—Spencer’s arm draped over your waist, his face tucked into the pillow mere inches from yours. His soft breaths were the only sound in the room, aside from the dull hum of the city outside.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as the reality of the night before came crashing down like an avalanche. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing, hoping, that somehow, this was a vivid dream. But the ache in your muscles and the tangling of limbs beneath the sheets told you otherwise.

How had it come to this? You’d both sworn off dating for a while after Penelope’s well-meaning but disastrous matchmaking attempts, bonding over how exhausting it was to keep picking yourselves up after failure. You’d laughed, drank more than you should have, and for the first time, Spencer wasn’t just your quirky, brilliant colleague—he was just a man. A man with soft brown eyes, a boyish smile, and the kind of awkward charm that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, someone understood.

And then he’d walked you home. You had both hesitated on your doorstep, the air thick with unspoken words and the lingering spark of a night full of confessions. Spencer had looked at you, his cheeks flushed and his voice almost trembling as he asked if he could kiss you.

God, you’d wanted to say no. You should have said no. But the way he looked at you, with a vulnerability so raw and genuine, made it impossible. And when his lips met yours, all the doubts and hesitations had melted away. At least until now.

A quiet groan escaped your lips as you gingerly shifted away from his arm, careful not to wake him. You needed space—space to think, space to breathe. Tugging on a shirt discarded on the floor, you padded to the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter as you stared blankly at the coffee maker.

This wasn’t just a mistake; it was a colossal, earth-shattering disaster. Spencer wasn’t just some random guy at a bar; he was your coworker, your teammate. You weren’t supposed to cross those lines, especially not in a way that could make things awkward for the entire team.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, willing away the threatening sting of tears. "What the hell were we thinking?" you muttered to yourself, though you already knew the answer. You were thinking about loneliness, about longing, about the fleeting comfort of being wanted. You were thinking about Spencer's warm smile and the way he looked at you like you were the most fascinating person in the world.

The sound of movement behind you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. You turned to find Spencer standing in the doorway, his hair disheveled and his shirt haphazardly buttoned. He looked at you with a mixture of shyness and concern, clearly unsure of what to say.

"Good morning," he said softly, his voice cracking slightly.

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile. "Morning."

An awkward silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Spencer shifted on his feet, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on you. "Are you okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing in that familiar, thoughtful way.

"Yeah," you lied quickly, your voice pitching just a little too high to be convincing.

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head, scrutinizing you in that way only Spencer could—like he was dissecting every layer of your soul. “You’re lying,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact, devoid of judgment. “Do you regret last night?”

His words hit you harder than you expected. The vulnerability in his gaze—those soft, questioning hazel eyes—made your heart ache. You could feel the truth rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You couldn’t bear to hurt him, not after everything.

“I only regret drinking so much,” you said instead, forcing a weak smile and hoping it was enough. “I’m horribly hungover.”

For a moment, Spencer stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your immense relief, his lips quirked into a small, understanding smile, and he even chuckled softly. “Yeah, we might have overdone it a bit,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you making coffee?”

You nodded, grateful for the shift in focus. As the coffee brewed, the familiar aroma filling your small kitchen, the tension eased. You poured two mugs and handed one to Spencer, who took it with a quiet “thanks” and a smile. The two of you sat at your tiny dining table, sipping the hot brew and talking about the most recent case. It was like slipping back into the roles you knew, the professional partnership that felt safe and predictable.

When Spencer finally stood to leave, he hesitated by the door. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said softly, lingering for just a moment before stepping out into the morning sun.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the silence in your apartment felt deafening. You slumped into your chair, staring at the coffee cup he’d left behind. You’d managed to keep the lie intact, but it didn’t make the knot in your stomach feel any less tight. If anything, it made it worse.

Later that evening, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself, you grabbed your phone and fired off a text to Emily. She was your go-to for all the juicy details and unsolicited advice, and you desperately needed her take on the situation.

Em, you’ll never believe it… I slept with Spencer! And before you even ask, no, it was not good. He was so sweet and, honestly, really attractive, but it was like he was just there to smash and dash, I swear! There was no build-up, no foreplay, it was so boring. I swear the only reason I was even wet enough was how good he looked. Em, what do I do?

You stared at the message for a moment before pressing send, your heart pounding as you anticipated her reply. You knew Emily wouldn’t hold back, but that was exactly what you needed—someone to be brutally honest with you.

Setting your phone aside, you waited for the familiar buzz of her reply. But as the minutes ticked by, your attention started to drift. The weight of the day and the lingering tension from your morning with Spencer caught up with you, and before you knew it, you had dozed off on the couch.

When you woke early the next morning, the faint glow of your phone screen illuminated the room, the only light breaking through the predawn darkness. You groaned, rubbing one eye as you sat up, feeling the stiffness in your back from spending the night on the couch. Reaching for your phone, you squinted at the screen, ready to check if Emily had replied to your late-night text.

But when you opened your conversation with her, the message you so vividly remembered typing was nowhere to be found. Confused, you stared at the blank thread for a moment.

"That's weird," you muttered to yourself. "Maybe I just dreamed I sent it."

Shrugging it off, you stretched, wincing as the ache from your uncomfortable sleeping position made itself known. After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, you pushed the odd moment out of your mind, determined to start the day fresh.

Later that morning, as you walked into the bullpen at work, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The usual hum of activity filled the air—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, voices murmuring about cases. Spencer was already at his desk, his face buried in a file, and he didn’t look up as you passed by. If he was feeling awkward about that night, he didn’t show it.

You dropped your bag onto your desk and booted up your computer, feeling a flicker of relief that everything seemed normal. The morning carried on uneventfully—until Emily strolled over, her face unreadable, and perched casually on the edge of your desk.

"Hey," she said, her tone casual as ever. "Do anything interesting this weekend?"

The question made your stomach flip. For a brief, horrifying moment, you wondered if you had sent that text after all.

Your heart pounded as you leaned in closer to Emily, lowering your voice to a whisper so that Spencer, sitting just a few feet away, wouldn’t overhear. “Did you see my text? I could have sworn I sent one last night,” you asked, keeping your tone as casual as possible despite the rising panic in your chest.

Emily frowned slightly, pulling out her phone and scrolling through your thread. “No? What was it about?” she asked, holding her screen up as proof of her empty inbox.

The confusion on your face deepened as you promised to catch her up on your weekend later. “Never mind, it’s nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. But as she walked away, a gnawing sense of dread began to form in the pit of your stomach. Something felt off—terribly off.

Grabbing your phone, you scrolled through your messages, hoping, praying you’d simply forgotten to hit send or, at worst, sent it to someone like your parents or even Hotch. But when you finally found the message, your blood ran cold. There it was, the detailed, unfiltered account of your night with Spencer, sent—and the recipient was none other than Spencer Reid himself.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt, and you couldn’t breathe. Your hands trembled as you stared at the screen, rereading the incriminating text over and over. You couldn’t even bring yourself to glance in Spencer’s direction, terrified he’d somehow know you’d realized your mistake.

Not knowing what else to do, you bolted from your desk and ran straight to Penelope’s office. You slammed the door shut behind you, startling her so badly that she let out a loud shriek.

“Y/N! What the heck, you scared me, girl!” she exclaimed, spinning around in her chair with wide eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

You barely managed to catch your breath as you blurted out the words. “Can you hack into Spencer’s phone?”

“What? Why?” she asked, her confusion giving way to intrigue.

“I sent him something he was never meant to see,” you said, your voice trembling.

Penelope’s expression lit up with gleeful curiosity, her hands clasping together in delight. “Oh my god! Drama!” she squealed. “Was it something saucy?” Her grin turned wicked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“No, Pen, nothing like that…” you lied, though your face betrayed the truth. “Just—can you do it?”

“Only if you tell me why,” she sing-songed, leaning forward as if this were the best thing to happen to her all week.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “It’s about Spencer, okay? I sent him a message I was venting to Emily about… and it’s—oh my god, Penelope, it’s bad.”

“How bad?” she pressed, practically vibrating in her seat.

You hesitated, your mind racing. “Like… it’s about bedroom activities, bad.”

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “You and Boy Wonder?” she gasped, her voice rising in pitch. “No way! Tell me everything right now, and then I’ll consider saving your butt.”

So, you spilled it all, every mortifying detail of your ill-advised text and the lackluster night with Spencer. Penelope listened with wide eyes, her hand dramatically clutching her chest as though she were living through the mortification alongside you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupted at one point, holding up a finger. “Are you saying there was no foreplay? None at all? Oh, honey, that’s—oh no.” Her sympathy was so theatrical it almost made you laugh, but the weight of your predicament kept your stomach in knots.

You sighed, shaking your head. “I know, I know. It was just… disappointing. He was sweet, don’t get me wrong, but it felt so rushed, and then I panicked afterward, and now this. I just hope he hasn’t seen the text. I mean, he doesn’t check his phone often, right? Unless it’s a call or something urgent?”

Penelope tilted her head thoughtfully, tapping a glittery nail against her lips. “You’ve got a point there. Spencer isn’t exactly glued to his phone like the rest of us mere mortals. But if he has seen it…” She winced, letting the implication hang in the air.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Penelope, please. I’ll never live this down. Can you help me? Just… I don’t know, tell him it was a new protocol or something if you have to.”

Penelope’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oh, sweetie, you know I love a good cover story. I’ll just tell him we’re testing a new security system or a phone update procedure, and I need to check his device. It’ll buy us some time, at least.”

Relief flooded you, though it was tinged with lingering dread. “You’re a lifesaver, Pen. I owe you big time.”

“Oh, you’ll owe me,” she quipped, already pulling up the tools she needed on her computer. “Now go sit tight while Mama Bear fixes your mess.”

You gave her a weak smile and stepped out of her office, nerves still on edge as you tried to focus on anything but the potential fallout. All you could do now was hope Penelope worked her magic before Spencer’s curiosity—or worse, his notifications—got the better of him.

—

It had been a few weeks since that mortifying ordeal, and life at the BAU had returned to its usual rhythm. You and Spencer were working together like nothing had happened, the two of you exchanging case theories and research notes with the same easy professionalism as always. If he had seen the text, he certainly wasn’t acting like it.

You clung to that thought, reassuring yourself every time you caught him flipping through files or muttering stats under his breath. Spencer wasn’t one to hold back if something was bothering him—if he had read the text, you were sure he would’ve said something by now. Right?

Penelope had assured you she’d taken care of it, spinning some elaborate story about a security test or protocol update to gain access to his phone. “Smooth as butter,” she’d told you with a wink. You had to trust her; if anyone could cover their tracks, it was Penelope Garcia.

Still, there were moments when a flicker of doubt would creep in, especially when you caught Spencer looking at you for a beat too long or when his smile seemed softer than usual. You wondered if he was just being his sweet, considerate self, or if there was some small part of him that knew.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. He was standing next to your desk, holding out a file. “I thought you might want to take a look at this. It’s related to the unsub’s timeline.”

“Oh, thanks,” you said quickly, accepting the file and forcing a smile. Your hands brushed briefly, and though the touch was fleeting, it sent a small jolt through you. You cleared your throat, trying to push the memory of that night further down into the recesses of your mind.

As he walked back to his desk, you let out a slow breath of relief. He was acting normal—maybe even too normal—but you decided to take it as a win. If he hadn’t mentioned anything by now, it probably meant Penelope had pulled off her mission flawlessly.

You could finally move forward, pretending nothing had ever happened. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

—

The team had gathered at the bar once again, and the night was well underway. Laughter filled the air as Penelope and Emily, true to their roles as the team’s biggest shit-stirrers, steered the conversation toward bad hookup stories. One by one, everyone chimed in with their own tales—some embarrassing, others outright hilarious. Even Hotch and Rossi surprised everyone by sharing anecdotes, their typically reserved facades melting away under the influence of camaraderie and alcohol.

You, however, stayed silent, staring intently at your soda and purposefully avoiding Spencer’s gaze. The thought of contributing to the topic sent waves of panic through you. Spencer, sipping his lemonade, seemed just as disinterested in alcohol as you were—although, unlike you, he appeared perfectly calm.

Emily, catching your silence and sensing an opportunity, smirked over the rim of her whiskey glass. “Y/N…” she began, dragging out your name in a voice that instantly made your stomach drop. “What about you? Any bad hookups recently?”

Your eyes widened, and the sip of soda you’d just taken went down the wrong way. You coughed violently, waving a hand to reassure everyone you were fine, even as your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. “H-hmm? No,” you managed to croak out, your voice high and strained. “Not, um, not too recently.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as if she could see right through you. “Not too recently?” she repeated, clearly fishing for more. “That’s a very specific answer, don’t you think?”

Penelope leaned in, her knowing grin rattling you further. “Oh, come on, Y/N! Spill it! We’ve all shared—you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

You opened your mouth, scrambling for something—anything—to say that wouldn’t give away the truth. But before you could stammer out a reply, Spencer spoke up, his tone light but pointed.

“Maybe we should let Y/N off the hook,” he said, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking back to his glass. “Not everyone wants to relive their awkward, or boring, moments.”

Your breath hitched, and time seemed to slow. Spencer’s words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been.

"Not everyone wants to relive their awkward, or boring, moments."

The word boring hit you like a brick to the chest, your mind immediately flashing back to the mortifying text you’d mistakenly sent to him weeks ago. Boring. The exact word you’d used to describe your night with him.

Your heart raced as you tried to process what this could mean. Had he seen the text? Was he throwing subtle jabs at you now, letting you know in his own understated way that he was aware of what you’d said? Or—your stomach churned—was this just a terrible coincidence?

You froze, your fingers gripping the edge of your glass as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your face felt hot, and your mind scrambled for something to say, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. All you could do was glance at him, hoping to read something in his expression, but Spencer didn’t look back at you. Instead, he sipped his lemonade nonchalantly, his face giving nothing away except perhaps the faintest flicker of amusement.

Penelope, blissfully aware of the tension now coursing through you, laughed and waved him off. “Oh, come on, Spencer. You’ve gotta admit, the awkward ones make for the best stories!”

Spencer smiled faintly but didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the table. You, on the other hand, felt like you were going to combust. Every second stretched painfully as you tried to decipher his intent. Did he know? Had he been holding this over you all this time? If he did know, why hadn’t he said anything? And why bring it up now?

You decided you couldn’t sit there any longer. “Excuse me,” you muttered hastily, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. You needed a moment—just a moment—to breathe and figure out what the hell was happening.

Once inside, you leaned against the sink, gripping the counter as you stared at your reflection. He knows. He definitely knows, you thought, replaying his words over and over in your mind.

But what did that mean for the two of you now? And, more terrifyingly, what was he going to do about it?

When you returned to the table, you were relieved to find that the group had shifted away from the awkward topic of hookups. Instead, they were now swapping stories about their most embarrassing encounters with local law enforcement during cases. The laughter was infectious, and you felt some of the tension ease from your shoulders as you slid back into your seat.

Emily was in the middle of reenacting a particularly mortifying moment where she’d accidentally walked into the wrong briefing room during a case, only to realize it was a police academy class in session. Penelope nearly fell off her chair laughing, and even Hotch cracked a rare smile. You joined in the laughter, grateful for the distraction and the chance to blend back into the group unnoticed.

But even as you laughed, you couldn’t shake the awareness of Spencer’s gaze. It wasn’t obvious, not enough for anyone else to notice, but you felt it—the way his eyes lingered on you a second too long, the way he watched you out of the corner of his vision.

You tried to brush it off as paranoia, convincing yourself you were imagining things, but the weight of his attention was impossible to ignore. Every time you glanced his way, he quickly looked down, pretending to be focused on his drink or the conversation. Yet his subtle smirk betrayed him, like he knew something you didn’t.

Your stomach twisted again, but this time it wasn’t just embarrassment—it was something else, something harder to pin down. Was he amused? Angry? Curious? Or worse… disappointed?

“Y/N,” Emily called, pulling you back to the moment. “What about you? Didn’t you have that one time with the sheriff who thought you were the intern?”

You forced a laugh, grateful for the change of subject. “Oh, God, yes. He spent half the briefing explaining things to me like I’d never heard of basic police work. Then he asked if I could grab him coffee!” The group erupted into laughter again, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, focusing on the good friends around you.

But even in the warmth of the group’s laughter, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Spencer’s gaze. It burned softly, quietly, but with undeniable intensity, leaving you wondering what he was thinking—and what he might be planning to say when the moment came.

After dropping Emily off and driving yourself home, you settled into the comfort of your routine, grateful to put the tension of the evening behind you. You had already changed into pajamas and washed your face when a sharp knock at the door startled you. The hour was late, and your neighborhood wasn’t exactly bustling at night, so caution kicked in immediately. Grabbing your gun—safety on, of course—you crept toward the door and checked the peephole.

The sight of Spencer standing there, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, made you release a heavy sigh. You lowered the gun, unbolting the door and opening it to find him still waiting, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination.

“Spencer?” you asked, blinking at him in surprise. “Why are you here?”

His gaze immediately dropped to the gun still loosely in your grip, and his eyebrows shot up. “Whoa,” he said with a nervous laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace. I just wanted to talk.”

You shook your head, setting the weapon on the nearby table with a faint smirk. “You picked a great time for it,” you muttered, motioning for him to come inside. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Spencer stepped past you, his movements careful and deliberate as he crossed the threshold. He paused just inside, glancing around as though he needed to steady himself. Finally, he turned to face you, his hands still tucked in his pockets, his face unreadable.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, and then tonight…” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your stomach dropped, and you felt your pulse quicken. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the doorframe.

His lips twitched—something between a smile and a grimace. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. “The way you froze when I said ‘boring.’ The way you’ve been avoiding looking at me for weeks. And the way you bolted when Emily tried to press you about hookups tonight.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“I saw the text,” he admitted softly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “The one you meant to send to Emily.”

Your heart sank, and your cheeks flushed with humiliation. “Spencer, I—” you began, but he cut you off again, his voice surprisingly calm.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he continued. “I figured it was your way of processing things, and I didn’t want to make it worse. But after tonight, I realized… maybe we need to talk about it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Spencer, I didn’t mean for you to see that. I was just… venting. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I know you didn’t. And honestly, I’m not upset—not about what you said, anyway. But it made me think… maybe I didn’t handle things as well as I could have.”

That caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wasn’t exactly at my best that night. I was nervous, and I didn’t know how to… connect with you the way I wanted to. And after seeing that text, I realized I might have made you feel… unimportant. Like it didn’t mean anything to me. But it did.”

His confession left you stunned, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes—it was almost too much.

“Spencer,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t realize it mattered to you that much.”

“It does,” Spencer said simply, his voice steady but his eyes searching yours. “And I want to try to redeem myself, if you’ll let me.”

“Redeem yourself?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the words catching in your throat as the air between you grew heavy with anticipation.

Spencer stepped closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you, his movements careful and deliberate. “Yeah,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hands found your waist, his touch light but firm as he gently pulled you closer. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, the gesture small but filled with meaning. You felt like you were in a daze, your thoughts scattered as Spencer leaned down, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips. Time seemed to slow as his face drew nearer, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was different this time—slower, deeper, infused with an unspoken promise. Spencer’s hands slid up your sides, one settling on your lower back, the other moving to cradle the side of your face. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, then curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened.

It wasn’t rushed, and it wasn’t awkward. It was intentional, every movement speaking of care and consideration. Spencer kissed you like he wanted to show you exactly how much you mattered, how much the moment mattered.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves. His hand remained on your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” Spencer asked softly, his voice a delicate mixture of nerves and hope. His hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, grounding both you and him as his hazel eyes searched yours for an answer.

Your heart fluttered at his request, the vulnerability in his expression making the moment feel intimate in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. You nodded, your lips parting slightly as you whispered, “Yeah, we can.”

He exhaled a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, his relief almost palpable. He smiled, that shy but genuine smile that made your chest ache in the best way. Taking your hand in his, he let you lead him toward the bedroom, his fingers entwining with yours in a way that felt so natural, so right.

Once inside, Spencer paused, glancing around as if he were taking in every detail of the space. You felt a rush of warmth in your cheeks, suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings, but Spencer’s attention quickly returned to you. He reached for you again, his touch gentle as he pulled you close.

“I want to get this right,” he murmured, his voice soft and earnest. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “I don’t want you to ever feel like… like you don’t matter to me.”

The sincerity in his words struck something deep within you, and you leaned into his touch, your hands resting on his chest as you tilted your face up to him. “You don’t have to prove anything, Spencer,” you said quietly. 

His lips curved into a small smile, “I want to” he said before he kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine.

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he took his time this time, unhurriedly removing your clothes with a reverence that bordered on worship. Every inch of newly exposed skin was met with a gentle kiss, his lips pressing softly against your collarbone, your shoulders, the curve of your hip. His attention to every detail made your heart race and your skin hum with anticipation.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second and show you how much this moment meant to him. He whispered quiet words between kisses—gentle reassurances and praises that made you feel both seen and cherished.

By the time you were completely bare, the tension in your body had melted away, replaced by a growing warmth that seemed to spread from your chest to every corner of your being. Spencer’s hands lingered on your waist, his touch warm and grounding, before he guided you gently to lie down on the bed. His gaze never left yours, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost like a prayer, before straightening to remove his own clothes. Piece by piece, he stripped down, his movements still unhurried as though rushing would break the fragile intimacy between you. When he was down to just his briefs, he paused, his expression laced with vulnerability as he looked at you.

Spencer took your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he climbed onto the bed in front of you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before trailing a path along your jaw and down your neck.

This wasn’t rushed or frantic. This wasn’t about proving anything or making up for past mistakes (well, maybe a little bit). This was about connection, about being fully present with each other. Spencer’s touch was gentle but firm, his kisses lingering, his hands exploring every curve and plane of your body as though memorizing you.

“You matter,” Spencer murmured against your skin, the words sending shivers down your spine as they vibrated through you. “This matters.”

“Spencer,” you groaned, your tone half-playful, half-flustered as you turned your head and buried your face in the pillow, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks.

“I mean it,” he said with a soft laugh, his lips brushing tender kisses along the curve of your hips as he began to trail his way downward. His voice was warm and genuine, the sincerity in his words making your heart ache in the best way.

You gasped softly, lifting your head from the pillow to look at him just as his hands gently spread your thighs apart. His gaze was steady but filled with unmistakable affection, the teasing grin on his face doing nothing to disguise the care in his actions.

“No foreplay?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he settled between your legs. His hands caressed your thighs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. “What awful man made you go through that?”

The memory of your drunken text and his earlier words flashed through your mind, and your cheeks flushed even deeper. “Oh my god, Spencer,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands as he laughed softly.

“I’m serious,” he continued, his tone light but laced with playful mockery. “That’s a crime against humanity, honestly. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropping lower as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “I’ll make it up to you.”

The words alone sent a shiver through you, but it was the way Spencer looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment—that left you utterly breathless. And as his lips moved closer, you realized with a mix of anticipation and awe that he fully intended to prove it.

The first kiss to your most intimate skin made you yelp in shock, your body jolting at the sudden, unexpected sensation. The sound escaped you before you could even process it, and your hands flew to grip the sheets beneath you as your breath hitched.

“Someone’s sensitive,” Spencer mumbled, his voice low and teasing, the words more directed to your skin than to you. His warm breath against you made your already racing heart stutter. Before you could form a coherent response, he leaned in again, his lips pressing another kiss to your clit, this time followed by a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue.

The sensation was electric, a mix of heat and softness that sent waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped from your lips, your head falling back against the pillow as Spencer’s hands gripped your thighs gently, holding you in place as he worked.

He moved with an almost studious precision, as though he were memorizing what made you gasp, shiver, or moan. Every touch of his lips, every flick of his tongue, was calculated yet somehow felt achingly natural, like he was simply following the rhythm of your body.

"Mm," he hummed against you, his tone almost smug as he pulled back briefly, his lips glistening. "I knew you'd taste amazing." His voice was warm, filled with an admiration that made your cheeks burn. Then, without giving you time to respond, he dove back in, his tongue and lips working together in a way that left you unable to form a single coherent thought.

You were melting, your body arching into him as your fingers tangled in the sheets. Each sensation was more intense than the last, and you found yourself utterly at his mercy, the rest of the world fading away until only Spencer remained.

And just when you thought the pleasure couldn’t possibly get any better, Spencer added one of his beautiful, long, bony fingers into the mix. The gentle yet deliberate motion of his finger sliding into you sent a shockwave of sensation through your entire body, and you couldn’t hold back the way your back arched off the bed.

“Spencer!” you yelled out, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, your voice raw with need. The sound seemed to spur him on, and you felt his lips curve into a faint smile against your skin.

“Good?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression equal parts satisfaction and adoration.

You could barely respond, your words coming out in broken gasps. “Yes—oh my god, yes!”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against you, before he returned his focus to you. His finger moved in perfect rhythm with his tongue, slow and deliberate at first, then gradually picking up a pace that had you completely unraveling beneath him. Every movement was calculated, every flick of his wrist or press of his tongue designed to draw out every sound you made, and you could feel yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

“Spencer…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body trembled beneath his relentless attention. You weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or pleading for him to never stop—maybe both, maybe neither. All you knew was that he was consuming every part of you, and you didn’t want it to end.

When he added a second finger, curling them in just the right way, it pushed you over the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, crashing over you in waves so powerful that your cries filled the room as your body arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as if you needed to anchor yourself to reality.

Spencer didn’t stop, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you were left trembling, breathless, and completely undone beneath him. Only then did he pull back, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he gave you a moment to catch your breath.

“You’re amazing,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with a quiet awe as he rested his chin lightly on your hip. His hazel eyes were warm and sincere, and a soft smile tugged at his lips. “Can’t believe I missed out on this last time.”

The compliment, so earnest and sweet, made your cheeks flush. You slung an arm over your eyes, laughing softly, trying to shake off the sudden wave of shyness that washed over you. “Oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your arm.

Spencer chuckled, his amusement clear as he pushed himself up and lay down beside you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you felt his warmth even before he leaned in close, propping his head up with one hand as he looked down at you with a playful expression. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone light, curiosity mingling with amusement.

You moved your arm just enough to peek at him, a lopsided grin still on your face. “I just—wow,” you said, still catching your breath. “I was not expecting that.”

Spencer’s brows lifted in mock surprise, and he placed a hand over his chest in a dramatic gesture. “You doubted me?” he teased, his grin widening.

You laughed again, finally dropping your arm and turning to face him fully. “No, not exactly,” you admitted, biting your lip. “But that was… definitely not what I expected. In the best possible way.”

His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something gentler. “Good,” he said simply, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Am I going to get a better review this time?”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting at his chest. “Mhm,” you teased, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’ll make sure to tell Em how good her coworker is with his mouth.”

Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before chuckling. “Oh god, please don’t do that,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands before he peeked out at you with a sheepish grin. “Just tell her your boyfriend is better than you previously thought.”

His words hung in the air, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. “Boyfriend?” you repeated, your brows raising as you looked at him, searching his face for any sign that he was joking.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed instantly, but he didn’t backpedal. Instead, he held your gaze, his lips twitching into a small, nervous smile. “I mean… if you want me to be,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual confidence. “I just thought… maybe this isn’t just a one-time, or two-timw thing. At least, I hope it’s not.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his voice, and a warmth spread through your chest as you processed his words. You couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to rest a hand on his cheek. “You’re serious?”

Spencer nodded, his hazel eyes filled with sincerity. “Yeah, I am,” he said quietly. “But only if you’re okay with that.”

A smile spread across your face, your fingers brushing against his skin as you leaned in closer. “I think a girl could get used to that,” you whispered.

The relief that washed over Spencer’s face was almost palpable, and he couldn’t hide the wide grin that followed. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with a newfound certainty that made your heart flutter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[dindjarindiaries]

Clueless

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Are you flirting with me?” “Have been for years, but thanks for noticing.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You tapped around the usual controls you could reach from the chair behind Din's as the cockpit of the Razor Crest groaned to life around you. "How's the hyperdrive looking?"

Din kept moving his gloved hands along the main console as he answered. "It's online." He gave his helmet a quick tilt as he pushed one more button above his head. "For now."

Din exhaled a heavy breath and wrapped his hands around the joysticks, giving them a squeeze before he maneuvered the gunship off the ground. The breath you let out was one of relief; the two of you had certainly been trapped on worse planets before, but you were glad to see the sight of it fading below you.

"Glad you're confident in your work." You failed to hide your growing smile as you relaxed and let Din take care of the rest.

"This isn't a confidence problem." Din spared a look at you over his shoulder before he lifted his hands to grasp the hyperspace levers. "The Crest just manages to surprise me from time to time."

With that, Din pulled back, and the stars stretched out before you. They then burst into the familiar plethora of blue and white swirling lights, beginning yet another long journey through hyperspace.

Hopefully one that you wouldn't get forcefully pulled out of. Again.

But you were still stuck on what Din had said: This isn't a confidence problem. That drew a pleased hum from you, one that you didn't bother to keep hidden from him. It wasn't like he'd get it, anyway. Not if he hadn't the other countless times you'd done it.

"I like that."

Din, now leaning back in his chair, swiveled in his seat to face you. His helmet was tilted in genuine confusion. "Like what?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you instead gestured to him with your chin. "The confidence."

Din shrugged. "Comes from experience."

You smirked and kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I'd like to see what kind of experience."

Din didn't move, but his tone spelled out all the confusion you likely would have seen on his face if it wasn't covered by his helmet. "Was getting pulled out of hyperspace hours ago not enough experience for you?"

That time, you really did let yourself roll your eyes as you laughed and stood to your feet. Honestly, the tally of your advances versus Din's own cluelessness was getting difficult to keep track of. "Fair point."

You stepped over to Din and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

"It's been a long day. I'd say it's time for some beauty sleep, but you've already got the first part covered." You gave his pauldron a squeeze and turned around. "And no, rest isn't an option this time."

You could only get a few steps away, however, when you suddenly heard Din stand up behind you. "Wait."

You froze in place and looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your brow as you awaited him to retaliate with some kind of meaningless yet humorous joke.

Instead, you saw him nervously shifting his weight between his feet. Even his gloved hands were pulling tight into fists before he asked a question you never thought you'd hear.

"Are you flirting with me?"

As surprised as you were to hear the words, you didn't miss a beat with your response. "Have been for years, but thanks for noticing." You flashed him a wink and started walking forward again, letting your sudden adrenaline carry you. "See you in a few hours."

You had only just started to cross the cockpit's threshold when Din found his voice again. "What?"

You laughed to yourself but didn't stop your stride as you stepped over the ladder towards the storage space you had claimed as your own private bunk. The door slid open for you, but before it could close, something—or someone—stood in the way.

"Hold on."

Din sounded out of breath, and when you turned around, you saw him leaning against the metal material of the storage room's threshold. His body was still rigid, the same way it looked when he was preparing to leap into battle.

"You can't just... after you..." Din gestured absently behind himself, to the open cockpit.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest again as you fully faced him. "I know this incredibly obvious revelation is somehow news to you, but it's not to me, and I'd really like to get some sleep."

Din just shook his helmet in pure disbelief. His modulated voice was lower than usual when he spoke again. "All this time?"

You huffed and looked down at your boots. "What did you think I was doing?"

Din's tone with thick with embarrassment. "Being nice."

You laughed again. You couldn't help it. "Of course you did." You reached forward and tapped your knuckles against his helmet. "Your skull must be as thick as your beskar."

You stood back where you were before and watched Din carefully. His visor was focused on the floor, and his gloved fingertips were fluttering thoughtfully on the hand he had propped up by his head.

You closed your eyes and sighed. His cluelessness was even worse than you thought it was.

"Listen, Din, you clearly need some rest. Just... go to sleep and we can talk about this later. Okay?"

Din's helmet snapped back up to you at that. "No. I'm sorry, let me just..."

He leaned off the threshold but continued to stand in it, keeping the door open for himself. His gloved hand palmed his helmet as his chest rose and fell with a frustrated breath.

"Kriff."

You chuckled and shook your head at him. "Din, it's really not that big of a deal."

Din stared at you before his armored shoulders deflated. "It isn't?"

You let out a softer breath as your chest squeezed. "I didn't mean..." Now you were the one palming your face. "Not like that. I just meant that I'm not offended or anything."

Din tilted his helmet. "Offended by what?"

You shrugged, too overcome by your newfound embarrassment to look at him as your stare returned to your boots. "You not reciprocating."

Din let out a sigh so heavy that you had no choice but to look up at him again. He had changed his position so that his hands were set on his hips as he shook his helmet.

"That's the thing." His visor found your gaze before he nodded. "I've been trying to."

Now, it was really your turn to be shocked. You blinked at him a few times as your heart somersaulted in your chest. All this time, you thought your flirting was just a vain effort to get the attention of a man who would never be open to you or what you had to offer. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow managed to miss something.

You found your voice, but it was only a squeak. "What?"

Din gestured with a gloved hand behind you. "I'm not good with words, so I tried to do things. Like helping you set up this room. And cleaning your weapons." The next part was a mumble you nearly missed. "And making you that blanket."

You whipped around, spotting the blanket—your favorite, by the way—that had just shown up one day on your makeshift bunk. You huffed in disbelief and turned back around to face him. "That was you?"

"Who else?"

It was Din's turn to laugh, though it was only a raspy chuckle for him. He even turned your own question back on you.

"What did you think I was doing?"

And your answer was nothing different. "Being nice."

Din let out the biggest sigh you'd ever heard from him, and you couldn't even blame him.

Oh, the irony of it all. Maybe you were actually the clueless one.

"So..." You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. " What now?"

Din shrugged. "Hell if I know." He gestured with his helmet behind him. "I think I just proved I'm not the most qualified in this area."

You spared another glance at the blanket. "Clearly, I'm not much better."

Din looked off to the side the way he always did when he was planning something. After a few heartbeats, he nodded to himself and looked at you again. "I might have an idea."

You lifted your brow. "Yeah?"

Din nodded again. "We should switch."

"Switch what?"

Din shifted his weight and used his finger to gesture between the two of you. "Techniques?" The suggestion came out as a question. "I'll try words, and you try actions."

You hummed in consideration before ultimately nodding. "Okay, yeah. I like that idea." You smirked at him. "You first."

Din, for once in his life, stammered. "What? I—Well, I can't just..."

"You can." You took a step closer to him. "You have something to say to me. I know you do."

It was then that something overcame Din, and you could see it in the way his posture relaxed into something much more familiar and comfortable. His visor gave you a steady once-over as he took a smaller step closer to you.

"I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

You let yourself embrace the flustered feeling even as you let out an impressed whistle. "That was good, Djarin! You're learning." You gave his armored shoulder a pat.

Din gave his helmet a soft tilt. "Your turn."

You grinned, letting your hand fall from his shoulder to instead grasp his arm. You other hand rose to meet it, and gently, you pulled him further into the room, causing the door to slide shut behind him. Din looked back at it in surprise, but when he looked at you again, he didn't seem displeased.

"I'm offering you my bunk." You gestured back towards it. "Because I want you here, but also because I don't want you sleeping on that sorry excuse for a bed down in the hold anymore."

Din chuckled at that, the sound thick with both amusement and admiration as he nodded. "Fair enough."

You helped him get settled into the bunk with you, draping the blanket he had apparently made over both of you as the final touch. Your face was the closest it had ever been to his visor as you laid beside him. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the brief silence.

"This is a good start."

You smiled, humming once more before getting close enough to rest your face against his cowl. "I agree."

The gloved hand you felt on your back was enough evidence of the fact that he was just as comfortable, now, and not as clueless as you had thought him to be.

[chuluoyi]

✎ wife

- gojo satoru x reader

in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher's wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds

genre: fluff, crack, gojo being a silly little menace as always, yuji and nobara are confused, an attempt at humor, lovesick gojo, mention of breastfeeding

note: it’s so silly but i had fun writing this! based on a request by anon (thank you!) but i tweaked it a bit and partly inspired by this fanart. reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high and has a baby with gojo—loosely a continuation of protect

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Take that off immediately!"

"Kyaaah~! Yuji is here, you pervert!"

Yuji was a laughing mess. Megumi and Nobara collectively sighed. Nanami attempted to retrieve his once-immaculate suit, now a crumpled mess, from the one and only Gojo Satoru, who found humor in stealing his signature attire and impersonating the stern-faced Nanami in front of his fresh batch of first years.

"He is incorrigible," Nobara grumbled, her eyes slitting. They said that he was a strong sorcerer, possibly the strongest there was, but she found it really hard to believe.

Megumi threw her a deadpan stare. With many years of putting up with this kind of antics under his belt, he pitied her for not knowing that this was far from the worst. "Yeah, he is."

"How does anyone ever put up with him?"

That was actually a good question. "We don't..." Megumi paused, recalling each and every occasion where he tried to do so. "His wife is probably the only one who can."

Nobara sputtered, spinning towards him. "What the—wife? That annoying man has an actual, living, breathing wife?"

"Who? Gojo-sensei?" Yuji chimed in, jumping into the conversation, leaving the supposedly two adults in their catfight. Nanami was still clawing to get his suit back, and Gojo continued to giggle and evade him, playfully running away.

Nobara scoffed. "I bet the woman just married him for the money. He comes from prestigious clan, yes? That must be it."

Yuji felt his eyes would pop out of its sockets. "What are you talking about, Kugisaki!? What woman—"

"Shut up, Itadori! Don't be too loud!"

Nobara and Yuji's unharmonious ruckus irritated Megumi to the bone, and he decided that the best course of action now was to leave them all in the dust. With a glare and a shake of his head, he stalked away.

And thus the two new first years were left with half-truths that would lead them into a major misadventure later that day—

—which happened when they spotted Nanami with you, whom they were still unfamiliar with.

They were convinced that Gojo’s wife must be some sort of boring tramp eyeing his wealth and not this positively radiant, mature woman, and so ruling that possibility out, they positively swooned at the sight before them.

"He's irresponsible, egotistical—" snippets of Nanami's frustrated words conveyed enough to paint a picture of Gojo's character. He was definitely ranting about Gojo to you.

"Is that Nanamin's wife?" Yuji mused, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "She is so pretty..."

"They... look cute together," Nobara hummed with dreamy eyes, and then looked at Yuji sharply. "And yes, she's indeed pretty, but know your place, Itadori!"

"I know!"

Based on how the two of you interacted, they concluded that you must have been close, with the way Nanami visibly relaxed around you, and not as formal as he was with anyone else. They highly suspected that the two of you were married, as you wore a ring, which was the ultimate sign.

"And how's the baby?" Nanami asked then, directing the question to you with a smile on his face, prompting surprised gasps from both Yuji and Nobara.

You were glowing, to say the least, and when you let out a small giggle at his question, even both students couldn't miss the way your expression exuded pure happiness. "He is well. Ah, I really wanted to bring him along too, but he was a little messy after eating so I left him at home. You can see him later…"

Yuji gaped. "So it's true..."

"Oh my gosh... and they have a baby." Nobara almost squealed.

And that sealed it. The headline of the day: Nanami is married to this stunning woman wandering the school grounds.

So imagine their utter shock when the second time they found you, you were with Gojo, and he was shamelessly snogging you in the hallway.

“Why are you here?” Gojo was breathless after the soul-sucking kiss he smothered you. His tone remained playful yet carried a clear undertone of concern. "You're still on maternity leave. I'll make sure Yaga knows that."

“Satoru,” you whined, and the use of his given name made Yuji and Nobara gasp in disbelief. “I’m perfectly okay and I don’t need to breastfeed anymore. I should start getting back to work.”

Nobara seemed to finally understand the implication. But Yuji didn’t. His mind flitting from one scandalous idea to another—

Gojo-sensei seducing Nanamin’s wife? Nanamin’s wife cheating on him with Gojo-sensei?

In the brief period he spent with Gojo, Yuji realized that he didn't exactly have a reputation for decency. So despite himself, he could only muster up this one word: “Homewrecker. Homewrecker!”

Yuji’s shriek took all three of you by surprise, and now both you and Gojo were aware of his presence.

“You absolute idiot,” Nobara hissed, face-palming.

“Oh, Yuji? Nobara?” Gojo genially asked, his concern towards you quickly dissolved into a meaningful smirk on his face. “And what do you mean by—?”

Yuji yelped. “You! You are! You’re trying to seduce Nanamin’s wife!”

Silence. Gojo’s eyes twitched beyond his blindfold. You blinked. Nobara wanted to save herself from the second-hand embarrassment. And his loud voice caught the attention of Megumi too, who was close by.

“You seem to be mistaken. First of all, Nanami isn’t married,” Gojo said with a strained voice, maintaining his smile. He then gestured at you, showing you off with pride. “And this here, is my wife.”

“Y-your wife?!” Yuji exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “H-how?! I saw her with Nanamin! Talking about a baby—”

“That would be my baby.”

“But how?!”

“Yuji, do you want me to give you a crash course in baby-making—”

“Satoru!”

You sent him a glare and turned to the young first years with a smile. "You must be the new first years? I’m Y/N, and I’m in charge of the second years.” You gestured towards your husband. “And please, ignore most things he says. He’s a bit crass, and if you ever feel he's harassed you, don't hesitate to report it to me."

“Wifey! How could you!”

“Shut up, Satoru! You’re embarrassing yourself!”

“What are you doing here?” Megumi inquired with a deep frown, getting between Yuji and Nobara as they stared at Gojo in total bewilderment.

Yuji exclaimed in disbelief, pointing at you. “Fushiguro! Gojo-sensei’s wife is a beauty!”

“…I know that already.”

Nobara whipped her head towards him. "You knew?! Since when?!"

“They… took me in.”

“THEY WHAT?!”

Gojo grinned at their chorus of surprise. “And what a fine boy he turns out to be, eh?”

Megumi scowled, but Gojo wasn’t bothered at all. If anything, what offended him was—

"What makes you think my dear wife here belongs to Nanami instead of me?" he joked with a mock scoff, earning an eye roll from you.

Nobara and Yuji blurted out their thoughts simultaneously.

“They look good together?”

“Nanamin is dependable?”

Gojo gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his mouth. "So, not only do I not look good with her, but I also don't seem dependable enough?" He turned to you with the most aghast expression. “Tell me that isn’t true—”

You shot him a withering look, deadpanning, “Actually, you might be.”

And Gojo clutched his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

Epilogue

“Satoru… come on, you know I was joking.”

Your dramatic ass of a husband had his head on your lap, hugging your torso tight. The pout on his face hadn’t faded a bit ever since he was done with his class, and now on your marital bed, he was clinging to you with all of his might.

He shook his head petulantly, clicking his tongue. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of my students. You’re so mean!”

You sighed. “I’m sure you have made a fool out of yourself far often. This is insignificant.”

“Hmph! How could you say that?! I don't care if it's me, but I can't believe that it's coming from you! I shower you with my undivided love each and every day!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Somehow seeing him like this made your heart lurch. He reminded you so much of your baby boy who was sleeping right in the next room that you couldn't resist smiling and pinching his cheeks.

“Okay, okay. My husband is handsome, looks good with me and definitely someone I can rely on,” you relented, and like a lightbulb going off, Satoru suddenly beamed so wide that you were certain his cheeks hurt.

“That’s more like it! Now, now, there’s only one way that can prove how responsible I am! Let me just fill you up with another baby—”

You smacked him on the head.

[dissapointu]

Drabbles: Arcane Characters Accidentally Hurting Their Partner

————————————————————————-

Jinx

Jinx’s grin disappears the second she sees the small cut on your arm, courtesy of one of her misfired gadgets. Her pupils shrink as she stumbles over her words.

“I-I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t aiming for you!” she blurts, her hands hovering as if she’s afraid to touch you.

When you assure her you’re okay, she frowns, grabbing a rag to stop the bleeding. “It’s not okay! I’m supposed to protect you, not…this!”

She doesn’t stop apologizing, even as she wraps your arm. Later, she silently hugs you, her face buried in your shoulder.

Vi

Vi freezes when you flinch, realizing her sparring move had hit you harder than she intended.

“Shit—are you okay?” she asks, dropping into a crouch beside you. Her hands hover nervously as she tries to assess the damage.

When you say you’re fine, she shakes her head. “Fine doesn’t cut it. I shouldn’t have gone that hard.”

She insists on patching you up herself, her brows furrowed with guilt. Later, she pulls you close. “I’ll be more careful next time. Promise.”

Sevika

Sevika’s jaw tightens when she notices the bruise forming on your wrist—an unintended consequence of her grip during an argument.

She doesn’t say anything at first, but when you notice her uncharacteristic silence, she finally mutters, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

You try to brush it off, but her eyes flash. “No, don’t. That was my fault.”

She’s gentle with you for the rest of the day, her guilt evident in every soft touch and murmured apology.

Silco

Silco’s expression doesn’t change when you point out the small burn from his lit cigar. However, the way he immediately sets the cigar aside speaks volumes.

“That was careless of me,” he says, his tone measured, but there’s a flicker of concern in his gaze.

When you tell him it’s not a big deal, he shakes his head. “It is to me.”

He carefully applies a salve to the burn, his touch surprisingly tender. Later, he keeps a noticeable distance whenever his cigar is lit.

Vander

Vander’s heart sinks when you wince, your hand flying to your shoulder after an accidental bump during his bar cleanup.

“Damn it, I didn’t see you there,” he says, his voice heavy with guilt.

You try to laugh it off, but he gently guides you to a chair. “Let me take a look.”

He checks on you with the same care he shows his kids, his eyes soft with concern. “I’ll be more careful next time,” he promises, squeezing your hand.

Ekko

Ekko’s stomach drops when he realizes the gadget he tossed over his shoulder hit you instead.

“Crap, are you okay?!” he asks, rushing to your side. His hands flutter around you, unsure where to start.

When you assure him you’re fine, he shakes his head. “No way. That was stupid of me.”

He insists on helping you sit, muttering apologies under his breath. “I owe you, big time,” he says, giving you a sheepish smile.

Jayce

Jayce pales when he notices the grease smudge on your face from a stray spark during one of his experiments.

“I didn’t think it would reach you!” he exclaims, dropping his tools.

You tell him it’s nothing, but he’s already grabbing a cloth and checking for burns. “Nothing? You’re hurt because of me.”

He’s extra cautious after that, keeping you far from his experiments. Later, he kisses your forehead and whispers, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Viktor

Viktor’s heart races when he sees the small cut on your hand from a jagged edge of his prototype.

“Let me see,” he says quickly, his voice tinged with worry.

You try to wave it off, but he frowns. “Please. I should’ve warned you.”

He cleans the cut with delicate care, his movements precise. “I’ll fix the design,” he promises. “It won’t happen again.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s eyes widen when she sees the scrape on your arm from her training session.

“I didn’t realize you were that close,” she says, her voice tinged with regret.

When you brush it off, she insists on tending to it herself. “Humor me,” she says with a small smile, though her hands are steady and careful.

Later, she apologizes again, her touch lingering on your arm. “I’ll make sure to keep you safe next time.”

[sunaluv]

'IS SHE TAKEN?'

in which someone asks your man if you're single

feat: ran, gojo

RAN

the club setting was filled with more excitement tonight. don't get it twisted, any club or event hosted by the haitanis was guaranteed to be the event of the day, good vibes, hot people, and lots of money to be made. but when one of the brothers was actually present at the club? something about their aura seemed to bring out the vibes in people.

ran's hooded gaze watched adoringly at you across the club, the setting bringing nostalgia to the first time you met. ever the social butterfly you were, accepting another phone number from one of the girlfriends you made tonight. the other members of the roundtable looked at one another, wondering if the haitani brother was even present.

"no wonder you're so distracted, boss," the man next to him nudged him with his elbow, to which ran side-eyed him. "she's a looker, d'ya think she's single?"

your boyfriend appeared neutral as he let the guy ramble on about how hot you were, and what he would do to you given the chance. he missed the harsh roll of ran's eyes. if he didn't know you were spoken for, he would make sure this guy knew by the end of the night.

as if on queue, you waved bye to your new friends and started to make your way to the table. eyes followed your figure as you passed, but that was to be expected when the prettiest girl at the club walked past.

"hey, sweetheart," his soft lips pressed against the crown of your head. "you alright?"

"i'm good! a little tired though," you let out a deep sigh, melting into his arms. "these heels have been killing me..."

wordlessly, his large hands had your ankles in his lap, undoing the buckles on your heels and rubbing tender circles into the irritated skin.

he smirked at the relieved sigh that left your lips. "my buddy here has something to ask you, sweets."

the man next to you seemed to go silent since your arrival at the table, the consequences of his actions just hitting. a deep breath followed by a gulp as he wiped his damp hands against his slacks. he almost flinched when your hooded, yet dominating gaze met his own eyes, but after remembering who and where he was, he gained his composure almost as quickly as it left.

"nah 'ts nothin'," he waved his hand. "just a passing thought, is all..."

others both around the roundtable and those dancing near it tried not to make it obvious that they were watching the exchange going down. they found themselves pitying a character who would not deserve it, under different circumstances. but, as discussed, the haitani aura seems to throw things off of balance.

if he didn't want to talk, ran would do it for him. "he wants to know if your single, claims he could give you a lay better than your man could,"

your eyes left the man, instead looking over your boyfriends face in silent communication.

'you and i both know he can't'

'...i know, my love, just humor me every once in a while?'

'you're such a character sometimes, haitani'

'you love it though'

eyes darted between you, awaiting your response, thus his sentence in anticipation. he didn't know what telepathic language you were communicating in, but he was glad to not hear his fate get discussed right in front of him.

"i'm very flattered, but i have a boyfriend, sorry." your response was dry towards him, but the gaze you held with ran was anything but.

catching wind of what was about to happen, you excused yourself from the table, leaving a kiss on the corner of rans mouth, whispering a 'be good' in his ear before leaving.

whatever happened after your departure was not your business, after all.

GOJO

"hey man," a hand belonging to an unfamiliar man clasped on satorus shoulder. "do you know if the girl you came here with has a boyfriend?"

you had dragged your boyfriend to one of your friend's parties, much to his dismay. he's sworn off drinking after geto's blackmail folder started getting a bit thick, meaning there was nothing fun to do other than socialise, but he didn't want to after people flocked to him for the wrong reasons.

so now he was maybe the only sober one in this lively scene, which leads to the current events.

he spoke your name for clarity. "uhh, I'm not sure. you can go ask her if you want. ill even put in a good word for you."

has this man been a fraction more sober, he would've questioned why the blindfolded man's smile was so wide, or why he was so willing to help, but alas, this was a party and alcohol was supplied.

"thanks, dude! you're such a lifesaver."

satoru almost felt bad for the guy. he was practically buzzing whilst traversing through the sweaty bodies in search of you. he felt bad until he remembered how bored he was before this happened, he has to put himself first sometimes.

after a couple stumbles, reroutes and a rest break, they had finally found you in your angelic beauty, laughing with a group of girls he didn't know.

he thought it was quite cute how the guy seemed to become more shy at the sight of you, and satoru couldn't blame him. had he been someone more normal, he would act the same in your presence.

one of the girls caught sight of the pair by the entry and gestured you towards them. your face softened slightly at the sight of your six-foot-something boyfriend and his... friend?

"hey toru," you smiled, before looking at the other man. "who’s this?"

satoru said nothing, slapping the guy a little too harshly on the back before stepping back. the floor was his.

"hey," he breathed out, before introducing himself. "i saw you come in with your friend earlier, and just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone?"

your heart rate picked up, but not for the reason the guy was hoping. why was gojo like this? did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

he obviously did as when you looked over your shoulder to the said man, he gave you a big, encouraging grin with both thumbs up. the audacity.

he had thrown you to the wolves and left you to fend for yourself.

"uhm..." you breathed, trying not to shatter the poor guy's heart. "i have a boyfriend, unfortunately. sorry."

"what do you mean, unfortunately!" satoru mocked you from behind the guy. "I'm a total catch, right?" he turned to the guy. "right??"

though delayed, the guy had finally come to the realisation he had been punked by the man who egged him on the whole time. his face burst into a deep shade of red, apologising profusely before rushing back into the crowd.

"you're such an ass, gojo."

"the last name huh?" he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm in for it arent i?"

[incognit0slut]

Prove me wrong

When you tease Spencer about his inability to be dominant in bed, he decides to prove you wrong by taking matters into his own hands.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) afab reader, established relationship, dom spence but he’s still gentle, spanking, fingering, edging/orgasm control ~3.6k words A/n: Every time I write him as a dom I always make sure to write a backstory, like I can’t imagine him being hard on you out of nowhere. Do you get what I’m saying? Anyway this is the spanking fic I was talking about the other day. lmk what you think!!

The giggle left your lips before you could stop yourself. You really shouldn’t be laughing, especially when you were straddling his lap in the midst of a hot, passionate make-out session. But you couldn’t help it, it was as if you had no control over your amusement. Spencer, however, did not find the humor in the words that had slipped out of your mouth.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?”

It wasn’t fair. You knew that. What had started as a casual conversation—with stolen kisses here and there—quickly escalated into a playful banter about who was more in charge in the relationship. You had been teasing him, confidently asserting that you were the one wearing the pants in the relationship because you couldn’t imagine him being in control.

The conversation naturally shifted to a more personal challenge, touching on the topic of dominance, a subject neither of you had seriously discussed before. You had laughed then, not out of mockery, but because the idea seemed so out of character for him.

“I just think you’re more comfortable with control in other areas,” you said, trying to stifle your giggle. “But in bed? I can’t picture it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “And what areas do you think I’m more comfortable with?”

“Well, teaching for one,” you replied, leaning closer. “I’ve sat in one of your seminars. You’re always so confident standing in front of a classroom.”

“So you think I’m good at teaching?” he replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But not at… other things?”

“Exactly,” you said, nodding. “I mean, you dominate the classroom with your knowledge. But that’s different from... you know, being dominant in bed.”

“Mhm.” His hands trailed up your legs before they settled on your waist. “Maybe those skills are more transferable than you think.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You can’t possibly compare giving a lecture in front of your students to... this.”

“Why not? Both require confidence, understanding your audience, and knowing how to lead.”

“Nice try, but I’m still not convinced,” you teased. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, your lips barely brushing his, but he backed away, leaving you hanging. His eyes were serious, not amused by your skepticism. You laughed. It was clear he wasn’t satisfied with your perception of him.

“Baby, it’s okay. I don’t mind if this isn’t your strong suit.”

“Well I do.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “Since when do you care about my opinion?”

“Since you’re my girlfriend,” he replied. “And I can’t let you think less of me.”

“I never think any less of you.”

“But you’re doubting me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Oh, come on, stop making that face.”

Spencer's response was swift. His hands moved to gently cup your face, drawing your attention fully to him. “Tell me why you think I can’t be dominant in bed.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, you have this… air about you. It's hard to imagine you letting go.”

"Maybe I don't need to let go. Maybe I just need to take control in a different way," he said, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two."

"You? Teach me?" You raised an eyebrow, mock disbelief coloring your tone. "This I have to see."

“I think you should be careful what you wish for,” He said under his breath, his lips now just a whisper away from yours.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” you shot back, smiling against his lips. “I just don’t think you have it in you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you.

His lips moved against yours softly yet deeply, carrying the usual sweetness you'd grown accustomed to, but there was a subtle edge this time. It wasn’t too harsh, but just enough to catch you off guard and make you part your lips. He took the invitation, his tongue tracing a deliberate path inside your mouth as his hand trailed up to hold the back of your neck.

Hot. You felt hot everywhere. Certain spots on your body felt as if they were on fire, the burn traveling through your veins before pooling between your thighs. You couldn’t believe a simple kiss could make you feel this way. The heat was intense, making you ache with a need that you instinctively started to move your hips, seeking more. But then he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not allowed to move.”

You frowned at him. “Why not?”

"Because..." His fingers traced a path to the hem of his shirt that you wore, the one you claimed as your own. He slowly began to lift it, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “You need to earn it.”

You understood immediately what he was attempting. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you desperate. You realized it was some kind of power play, and this was his way to dominate you, to keep you on the edge. Each careful, controlled movement was a clear message to you. He was in charge, and you were left craving whatever he chose to give.

"Yeah?" You whispered, noticing the way your voice trembled with anticipation. "And how do I do that?"

He lifted the shirt higher, his hands sliding up your sides, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. “By letting me lead,” he said. “Maybe I'll give you what you want then.”

The fabric slipped over your head, and you sat there, perched on his lap, momentarily vulnerable under his intense gaze. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as you felt his hands rest lightly on your bare shoulders, his fingers tracing small circles before they trailed lower, stopping just above your breasts.

“Will you do that? Will you do what I say?”

You swallowed hard. This was new. You never thought you’d see him asking your permission to be in control, yet here he was, doing the exact thing you were skeptical about. And to your surprise, you liked this side of him.

“Will you?” He urged.

You felt your breathing grow heavy as his hands moved lower. “…yes.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples. “I can’t hear you.”

You felt the sensation hit right through you, and it took a lot of self-control for you not to arch into his touch, to keep your voice steady as you repeated louder, “Yes.”

A satisfied smile played at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to press an open kiss on your neck. “I think I can get used to this.”

You tilted your head, exposing your neck to him. He wasted no time, licking and sucking on your pulse point, making sure to leave his mark. His hands continued their exploration, squeezing your breasts gently, feeling their full weight in his palms. When he tugged on your nipples, pulling them harder than he ever had before, a moan escaped your lips, surprising even yourself.

His lips curved into a smirk against your skin. "Sounds like someone's enjoying this more than they expected.”

Breathlessly, you replied, "You're... doing okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" His breath was hot on your already heated skin. "I'll have to try harder then."

His fingers traced a teasing path down to the hem of your panties, playing with the soft fabric, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath. “Lift your hips.”

You complied, lifting your hips slightly, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the fabric and slowly began to pull it down. You shifted on his lap, letting him slip off your panties completely. He discarded it onto the floor, his hands returning to your thighs, gently massaging the plumpness of it as he fixed his gaze on you.

There was something about you that captivated him at that moment. The way you trembled, the way your breathing quickened, the way your pupils dilated. Spencer had always loved the pure desire reflected in your eyes whenever he touched you, but this was different. It was raw, unfiltered desperation, and he wanted to savor it, to draw it out and see just how far it could go.

“See? Already doing better than just okay.”

Your breath hitched as his palm ran up your inner thigh. “You’re not done proving yourself yet.”

“You know,” he started, his voice low and teasing. “You shouldn’t really challenge me like this.”

“I’m not challenging you… you’re the one who started this.”

His fingers stopped just at the edge of the heat between your legs, teasingly close yet maddeningly far, but close enough to feel the dampness on your skin.

“No, you started this.” He moved his hand further, brushing against your outer lips. “You told me I wasn’t capable of being dominant.”

Your mouth fell open, a gasp escaping your lips. “I—I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think I could take control?” His fingers grazed your slick pussy, slowly brushing your arousal between your folds. “Or didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much?”

You could only moan in response, your body reacting despite your attempts to keep your composure. 

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice as soft as his touch. “Are you still not convinced?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers found your clit. You gasped, trying to form coherent thoughts. “I… I’m starting to see your point.”

“I need more than that,” he uttered, and to your disappointment, he pulled away. “Lay down on my lap.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He smiled. “You heard me. Lay down on my lap.”

Hesitantly, you shifted, positioning yourself across his lap, your heart pounding in your chest. “Spencer, I don’t—” you started, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Shh,” he cut you off, his hand softly patting your back. “Relax.”

He watched as you started to relax, the supple curve of your back arching slightly, highlighting the roundness of your ass as you settled into position. His hand rested lightly on your lower back while his other found your face, turning it towards him. His eyes met yours as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.

"Look at me," he whispered. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes steady on his soft brown orbs even though your heart was racing while his other hand trailed down the curve of your hips. Then, without warning, his hand lifted from your skin only to come down gently in a firm, open-handed spank on your ass that resounded through the quiet room.

"Spencer!" you exclaimed, a flush spreading across your cheeks.

His hand rubbed the area soothingly. “Have I convinced you enough?”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch both soothing and stimulating. “Maybe,” you replied breathlessly, your cheeks still flushed.

“Maybe?” He laughed. “Why do I feel like you’re doing this on purpose?”

You looked away, flustered, not wanting to admit the truth. “I’m not… I mean…” you stammered, your face heating up even more.

Seeing your reaction, he moved his hand between your thighs again, his fingers brushing against your slickness. “Interesting,” he hummed. “It seems you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch. “Spencer…”

“But you don’t deserve this yet,” he said, pulling his hand back teasingly. “Not until you’ve fully earned it.”

His hand suddenly came down on your ass again, the sharp sound echoing through the room. The burning sting made you gasp. 

“Count,” he instructed.

You could feel your eyes well up with unshed tears, the intensity of the slap overwhelming. You should feel ashamed and embarrassed by the situation, everything about this should send you into sheer mortification. Yet, there was also an undeniable pleasure threading through the pain, so intense that you could feel yourself getting aroused.

Another spank followed, slightly harder this time. “I told you to count.” “Two,” you gasped.

His hand came down again, firmer than before. “Start from the beginning.”

You blinked away the moisture in your eyes, trying to steady your voice. “One...”

“That’s better,” he murmured, his hand connecting with your skin, the sensation sharper than before.

“Two...”

His eyes stayed locked on you, gauging every reaction as he slapped you again.

“Three,” you cried out.

You continued to count, the numbers blending with your gasps and moans. By the time you reached seven, you were panting, the tears finally spilling over your face. His touch softened, his fingers gently caressing your reddened skin as he pressed his lips on your cheek, trying to kiss your tears away.

“Oh, baby, you know I hate to see you cry,” his voice was sweet, almost cooing, but the underlying taunt was unmistakable as his hand came down again sharply on your ass. You cried out, but he continued to trail soft kisses along your jawline, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re doing so well,” he breathed. “But I need you to count again.”

“Eight,” you whined as you tried to catch your breath. Before you could fully process the last slap, you felt another sharp smack on your ass, making you cry out again. 

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered, the mix of sensations overwhelming you. His kisses were gentle, almost tender, but his hand was anything but soft.

“Just a little more, I promise,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and comforting. “What number was that?”

“Nine,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

“One more,” he whispered. “Just one last time. Can you be a good girl and count it out for me?”

You nodded, bracing yourself. He slowly lifted his hand again and paused in the air for a moment before letting it down in a firm, final spank.

“Ten!”

“Very good,” he praised softly, his voice warm and approving. He rubbed the stinging area gently as his lips found yours in a tender, reassuring kiss, his hand cradling your face gently.

“There, all done,” he said, pulling away. “Do you think you deserve your reward now?”

You nodded slightly, your body still humming from the intense sensations. “Please.”

His smile was soft when you met his gaze. “Alright,” he hummed. “You’ve earned it.”

You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver of anticipation run through you as his fingers slipped between your legs again. The warmth of his fingers against your folds sent waves of pleasure through your body, and when he pressed gently against your clit, a gasp escaped your lips. You arched into his touch, every nerve ending tingling with the sensations he was creating. The pleasure built steadily, each stroke sending you higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Spencer,” you moaned, unable to hold back yourself as you arched your back, your hips grinding against his fingers, seeking more of the delicious friction.

“You’re so wet,” he sighed with a hint of surprise and satisfaction. “You like it when I go hard on you?” 

You could only nod in response, your mind barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he was working on you.

“Do you think you can take it if I go harder?” he asked, his fingers stilling for a moment, waiting for your response.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with desire. “I-I can take it.”

He answered you by slipping, not one, but two fingers into you without warning. The sound you let out was filthy, almost primal, a mix of a moan and a gasp that reverberated through the room. The unexpected intrusion drove you crazy, making it impossible to hold back your reactions as his fingers started to move inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that had your toes curling.

“God, you’re so tight,” Spencer sighed, his lips brushing against your ear. He could feel your walls clenching around him, contracting in response every time he thrust his fingers into you. It drove him wild. It consumed his mind. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this way.

If you were wet before, you were absolutely drenched now. Your arousal stained his skin, and it amazed him how it didn't seem to stop. The liquid seemed to intensify, becoming the only noise in the room—a slick, wet sound that echoed softly as he started a faster pace, curling his fingers inside you.

You felt the pressure building, a tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your lower stomach. Every curl of his fingers, every stroke against that perfect spot inside you, sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m so close…”

He pulled your face closer to his, brushing his lips on your cheek. "Already?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out, leaving a void that made you whimper in protest. But before you could voice your frustration, his hand came down sharply on your ass. The sudden slap made you wail, your jaw slacking open.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

You didn't know which surprised you more, his sudden withdrawal or the sharp sting of his slap. But both affected you like a storm suddenly breaking the calm, jolting your senses awake, heightening your senses.

With his hands still on you, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Have I proved you wrong yet?"

You could barely speak. Instead, you opted for a nod, hoping he’d understand your silent affirmation. But Spencer wanted more, he wanted to hear it. When your voice failed to form the words, his hand came down sharply again, a firm smack that made you gasp and arch your back.

"Not good enough," he said firmly. He then gripped your chin, turning your face to meet his gaze, forcing you to look directly into his eyes in this position. His hold was firm, his eyes intense. "Say it."

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words, but they came out as a soft whimper when you felt his fingers suddenly slipping into your cunt again. The stretch was even more delicious this time, intensifying the pleasure already floating in your veins, scattering your thoughts.

"Focus," he commanded, but how could you when he thrust his fingers into you at a mind-blowing speed? Each thrust seemed to demand an answer, it was as if he was using your own body against you, pushing you to the edge until the only thing you could think of was the control he had over you.

And it was working, because all you could focus on was him—his fingers pumping in and out of your slick cunt, the intense gaze in his eyes, the warmth of his breath against your lips. Everything around you seemed to blur and only he remained clear.

"Say it," he urged again. "Say that you were wrong."

You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak, but his hard gaze and the relentless motion of his fingers forced the words from you. "I-I was... wrong."

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers never faltering. "I can't hear you, baby, need you to talk to me."

You moaned, your body trembling with the need for release. "I-I wanna cum."

"Hold it," he said firmly. His fingers didn't relent, maintaining that perfect rhythm, pushing you further, harder. "Say it louder."

You clenched around him, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. "I-I was wrong."

"I think you can do better than that."

You groaned. The pressure was too much and you fought to find your voice through the haze of pleasure. You could feel every ridge and curve of his fingers as they moved inside you, the friction building an unbearable heat that pooled low in your abdomen.

"I still can't hear you."

"I was wrong!" you cried out pathetically, your voice breaking with desperation. Your walls clamped around him, trying to draw him deeper as the slick, wet sounds of his movements filled your ears. You were drowning in the sensations, the tension inside you winding tighter and tighter. The world narrowed down to the feeling of his fingers inside you, the relentless pressure, the intense heat pooling in your core.

“Spencer, please,” your voice cracked, tears prickling down your cheeks again. You could taste the saltiness as you took a sharp intake of breath. "Please, please, please, please—"

"Now."

With that single word, the tension inside you snapped. A powerful surge of pleasure tore through you, starting at your core and radiating outward like a shockwave. Your vision blurred, and your entire body convulsed as the orgasm overwhelmed your senses. You cried out his name, and your muscles contracted around his fingers, squeezing tightly as the sensations spiraled out of control. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.

Your skin felt electric. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode out the peak of your climax, hips bucked against his hand while his fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your orgasm, making it last longer than you thought possible. The intensity left you trembling, your body spent and your mind unable to process anything other than the overwhelming pleasure.

You finally collapsed against him moments later, your body limp and your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The intensity of your orgasm left you feeling both weightless and heavy as if all the strength had been drawn out of you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, your smaller frame draping effortlessly over his.

And this time, Spencer shouldn't be laughing, but he couldn't help himself. His chuckle was soft and warm, a sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into your body as you lay against him. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but you could sense his amusement.

"If I had any strength," you muttered, sinking into him. "I'd hit you so hard right now."

He laughed again, this time a bit louder. "Well, it's a good thing you're too worn out to try.”

"Don't get used to it," you warned, though there was no real threat in your tone.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But I do enjoy seeing you like this."

You nuzzled closer to him, feeling the exhaustion beginning to set in. Your eyelids grew heavy as you muttered, "Just don't forget who’s really in charge in this relationship."

"I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m—“ you stopped as a yawn suddenly hit you. “I’m… the dominant one here.”

"Sure, you are," he teased gently, stroking your hair as you settled comfortably against him, a smile playing on his lips.

“I… mean it.”

“Of course. You’re always in charge.”

You nodded sleepily. “And I’m… still going... to… hit you… later…”

He rested his head on top of yours, letting your body fully relax into his. “I look forward to it.”

With a final, contented sigh, you let yourself drift off on his lap, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling you into the most peaceful sleep.

[zhongrin]

honey, can you.… commit a crime for me?

© zhongrin | 2024  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, childe, kaeya, diluc, al haitham, tighnari, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, crack, fluff

✼ a/n ┈ what even are these hsdlkfjlskjdf kinda wanna create a yandere version of this /is bonked

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

zhongli immediately tries to find the core of the problem. “what is it that troubles you, dearest? perhaps we can find a more peaceful solution? violence is not always the answer. this, i know from all the 6000 years i’ve lived—” aaaand there he goes on his lecture. if your goal was to get him to give you a preaching of a lifetime, well, congratulations, you’ve done it. sit back and relax, brew some tea, maybe get some snacks, because you’ll be here for a while.

al haitham, surprisingly, actually humors you. only because he knows you were teasing him and this is his way of teasing you back, but you’ll probably end up staring at him in confusion because he looks dead serious while doing so. “what an interesting offer. i’ll have to ask you to submit a formal proposal through your special submission channel. make sure you have several backup plans in case of emergencies. have it on my desk by tomorrow afternoon, the latest.”

wriothesley straight up denies you with a roll of his eyes. he knows you’re joking, and honestly speaking he would stain his hands with blood for you, but as much as he loves you, he really didn’t want you to end up at the fortress while under a sentence. although theoretically he could pull some strings to make sure you spent your sentence peacefully if that scenario ever happened, the fact was that such records will follow you for the rest of your life, and he wants you to stay in the sunlight. “what did i always tell you? don’t break the law... but if you really want to, how about you try to steal my breath away with a kiss?”

neuvillette stops writing his reports immediately, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “my dear, come sit, let us converse.” he holds your hand and proceeds to rope you into a heart-to-heart talk. are you being harassed by someone? are you being threatened? the cup of water rippled erratically as he waited for you to answer those particular questions. is there something he could do to help that wouldn’t make either of you getting dragged into a court trial? can he— …. yeah, someone save him, he totally thinks that you’re serious.

childe agrees immediately. is that even a question? “sure! who do you need me to kill?” he asks, with his signature wide boyish grin plastered onto his face and his hand twitching to reach for his hydro blade. look. it’s your ajax. your (man)childe. your tartaglia. i bet you liked his murderous tendencies anyway. are you even surprised?

kaeya makes it a point to gasp and looking like a maiden who caught the sight of two lovers rendezvousing in the garden. when he notices you not buying his act, however, he laughs and switches gear into a teasing smile, “oh? was me stealing your heart not enough?”

diluc stares at you blankly, one eyebrow raised, his voice monotonous — if you hadn’t known how to read his minuscule reactions, you would have missed the spark of mirth dancing in his eyes; a trace of the young ‘luc buried deep inside the scarred heart of a charred phoenix, “…. hmph. did kaeya put you up to this?”

tighnari hums nonchalantly and gives you a knowing smirk, his tail swishing mischievously behind him, “perfect. i do have a rare specimen i’d like to plant. i’m sure it’ll benefit well from the nutrients it’ll absorb from your victim. so, where did you put the body?”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

[syluslnd]

hii i have a few requests i hope you dont mind 🥺🫶 feel free to pick to do any if they have not been done yet, they are kinda mostly prompts though 😭

sylus with a streamer/gamer s/o. like those fics where the fans go crazy when sylus shows up in the camera out of nowhere or hearing his voice. and sylus just being supportive about their hobby 😞❤️

sylus reaction when they have a cosplayer s/o, especially when they come home every day and they meet a new character daily or every other day 😭🤣

sylus reaction when s/o gets period stains during their date

sylus with s/o who cant cook but not the those exaggerated types where they burn the whole kitchen, they just didnt learn how to cook, but can do the bare minimum of helping like slicing and stuff and very easy recipes (projecting because i can't cook but am helpful 😭)

when you get your period mid date

The evening had started off perfectly. You and Sylus were sitting across from each other in one of the fanciest restaurants in town, your skin-tight dress fitting you like a glove. The low lights, soft music and clinking of glasses around you added to the elegance of the night. Sylus looked especially handsome tonight, his gaze on you steady and smoldering and his signature teasing smile made your heart flutter.

Everything was going smoothly—that is, until you felt that familiar pang low in your abdomen. You froze, hoping it was just nerves. But then, you felt a sinking dread as the sensation intensified. Trying not to panic, you excused yourself, offering Sylus a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Take your time, sweetie” he replied with a slight smirk. “Don’t go missing me too much.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him a quick wave before heading to the bathroom. But once you were inside, your worst fear was confirmed: a noticeable stain had appeared on the back of your dress. Panic bubbled up in your chest as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mortified. This wasn’t just any dress, either; it was a pale color, practically a magnet for accidents.

Not knowing what else to do, you took a shaky breath and pulled out your phone, dialing Sylus’s number with trembling fingers. He picked up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” His voice was laced with humor, but you could practically hear the smile on his face.

“Sylus” you whispered, cringing at how shaky you sounded. “Can you… um… can you come to the bathroom? I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

There was a beat of silence. “Are you hurt, kitten?”

“No! No, not hurt” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Just…my period..I’m stained!”

“Got it. Stay right there, I’m coming.” He hung up and you leaned against the counter, waiting anxiously. But as the seconds ticked by, you began to feel more and more self-conscious. What was taking him so long?

After what felt like an eternity, the bathroom door finally opened and there stood Sylus—with a designer shopping bag in his hand. You blinked, trying to process the sight.

“Sylus, what…?” You trailed off, completely baffled.

He smirked, holding up the bag. “What? Did you think I was going to leave my sweetie hanging?” He stepped forward, setting the bag down on the counter. “Got you a new dress. I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with… you know.” He gestured vaguely, clearly trying to spare you any embarrassment.

Your jaw dropped, both at his thoughtfulness and at the brand-name logo on the bag. “Wait, you actually bought me a new dress? From there?” you asked, pointing out the door, toward the designer store just across the street.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Seemed like the right call. Plus, I got to take my time picking something pretty for you.” His smirk widened. “Had to make sure it’d look perfect on my kitten.”

You let out a small laugh, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, though your cheeks burned at the thought of him going out of his way for this. “Sylus, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“How about you say you’ll wear it and let me get back to showing you off to the rest of the place?” he teased, handing the bag to you.

You reached for it, heart racing as you peeked inside. The dress was stunning, a rich, deep color that would look amazing on you, with a soft fabric that looked comfortable enough to help you feel more at ease.

“Sylus” you murmured, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Thank you.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “Anything for you, sweetie” he replied, his voice softer, his teasing tone gone for just a moment.

You felt your chest warm and you tried to look away, but he gently turned your face back toward him. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me now” he said, his smirk returning. “It’s cute, though. Didn’t know I could get my girl so flustered.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed and half-touched and stepped back toward the stall to change. “I’ll be right back” you promised, disappearing inside and slipping on the new dress. When you stepped out, you felt a little self-conscious, smoothing the fabric over your hips.

Sylus’s gaze met yours, his eyes lighting up with admiration. “Beautiful” he said simply, letting his gaze linger as if he were committing the sight to memory.

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze but a smile crept onto your face as you looked at him. “Think we can go back and pretend like none of this happened?”

He chuckled, offering his arm with a grin. “Of course, kitten. I’ll even let you hold onto the bag—it’s yours, after all.”

You laughed, taking his arm, feeling a surge of confidence as he led you back to your table. Sylus didn’t just make you feel taken care of; he made you feel cherished, like every little detail about you was worth his time.

And as you settled back into your seat, he gave you a wink. “Next time, just call me sooner. Anything to keep my kitten comfortable, you know?”

You smiled, knowing he meant every word. The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, stolen glances, and soft whispers and for the first time, you didn’t feel an ounce of insecurity—you were just glad to have Sylus by your side

[yesimwriting]

Normalcy

A/n deadpool and wolverine drabble bc the movie was a little too good

Summary: Still reeling from the loss of your powers, you struggle to hold it together inside the TVA's void. Thankfully, you find an uncharacteristically peaceful distraction in your old friend Deadpool and in the wolverine variant who wants nothing to do with you.

Warnings/info: reader is a (former) avenger (bc i love the avengers <3), reader is described as having similar powers to wanda and having trained with her (bc i love wanda), implied beginning of an accidental love triangle if you squint ig, maybe too much lore for a drabble (?), me writing for characters for the first time so be nice 😭

----

The lines etched into your palms do not bend and twist to spell out secrets, there are no messages worth decoding pressed into your skin. Knowing this is not enough to stop you from staring at your hands like if you could just think about it hard enough...

"There you are, Peanut." The words are so warm you're briefly pulled out of your internal angst. You straighten, head lifting slightly and arms crossing in front of your chest. "Thought I lost you."

Wade continues forward until he's directly in front of you. He pauses, watching you with an unabashed openness that you'd only ever allow him to get away with. "Kidding," he tries, "I'd never lose you."

The familiarity of the casual affection eases you further, the corner of your mouth tugging itself upwards. "I was like 15 feet away from you."

"Sorry for caring." It's his go to comeback when it comes to defending the displays of affection you have the audacity to find overdramatic.

You blink, lips parting despite your lack of response. The world has felt a little slower these last few days, moving at a pace that leaves you with no choice but to reflect. Maybe it's the void.

"Hey," his voice feels a little flatter without his usual humor, "Are you okay?"

You let out a breath, shocked by this new low. Sure, you've known Wade for awhile and you've both seen each other through plenty of stages, but he's never felt the need to attempt a genuine pep talk for you. He's never struck you as the pep talk sort...for anyone. Do you really seem that off?

It's bad enough that your identity crisis has stolen the abilities that would have helped your trio pop out of the void with no real fanfare, you can't also make your insecurities everyone else's problem. "Yeah." The response doesn't feel convincing, but with Wade wearing the Deadpool mask, it's hard to be sure. "Just y'know...we're in a void and our reality might be ripped apart, so I've been better."

He's still watching you with a level of focus that's unnerving. You've gotten used to his familiarity, his lack of care for personal space or the social rules around watching people. "You're doing it again."

"Seducing you with my ability to have a heart to heart while looking this good in my suit?"

You sigh in an attempt to dismiss your slight smile. Happy or sad, superhero that once fought Thanos or regular person that can't regulate their emotions, Wade always treats you the same. "The staring thing. You said you'd stop."

"No, you said I'd stop." The correction is a return to what you're used to. He takes a step towards you, his proximity now forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to look him in the eye. "I'd never promise to look at you less."

"Comforting."

He angles his chin downwards, making the limited distance feel more significant. "I thought so." For a moment, he's quiet in a way that doesn't feel very him. "Are you sure you're...good?" His hesitance is another reminder that this is far out of his element. "I know this is your first..." Wade's rarely careful, only ever treading lightly on the one subject you never want to bring. "Outing, since..."

"I lost my powers."

Wade goes quiet again. If this conversation is as inevitable as it seems, a part of you wishes it could have come up elsewhere. Maybe in your shared apartment, definitely without the mask so you could better interpret his reactions. It's not often you keep secrets from him, but the hollowness you feel knowing the part of yourself you've lost isn't something you can just share.

It's more than just about missing your party tricks, it's about losing a part of yourself. They were all that was left of your time with the Avengers, of what Wanda taught you before Westview.

He lets out a breath. "They're not lost." You raise your eyebrows slightly, giving him a look meant to caution him against sympathetic optimism. "We don't know that."

He seems so happy to be able to tell you that there's no proof that any and all magical abilities have been flushed out of your system, you don't have it in you to remind him that that's mainly because you have no one to ask. What's left of the Avengers and your government connections either barely understand what you were or are untrustworthy.

"Educated wish?"

His mask muffles a slight gasp. You press your lips together in an attempt to resist smiling. "The last one worked out great."

Your eyebrows pull together skeptically, a reminder that the two of you are still technically in the middle of the last educated wish he attempted to speak into existence. "Didn't Wolverine stab you multiple times--"

He cuts you off with a heavy sigh. "If I took getting stabbed personally, do you know where we'd be?"

In a reality where Wade holds grudges over those kinds of things, you wouldn't be anything to each other, except maybe enemies. You've never pulled a knife or sword or anything sharp on him, but when you first met he did startle you before you had a total grip on your abilities, which resulted in him getting thrown through a wall.

"I never stabbed you."

His hand finds your shoulder. You let him drag his thumb against against the fabric of your suit. "And that's how I know you really love me, Peanut."

You roll your eyes in an attempt to dislodge the warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach. The last thing Wade needs is encouragement. "I mean, I do go around stabbing everyone I like less than you."

He lets out a sound that feels like a scoff attempting to mask itself as a dry laugh. "There's the sense of humor that'd hurt me if I knew you less."

"Well--"

He squeezes your shoulder, "I know you." Okay. You'll let him have this one because maybe there's some truth to what he's saying. "I'm going to go check on the car, because a fucking Honda Odyssey would break down on us for no reason before we got to the fight."

"For no reason or because of the bitch fight you and Wolverine had in it?"

There's a beat of silence in which all you can do is try to imagine Wade's expression behind the mask. You'd like to think that he's smiling. "Oh, Pumpkin." He sighs as if you've stumbled onto saying something terribly naive. "It wasn't a bitch fight, it was awesome, and probably turned you on."

You deadpan a flat, "You caught me." He hasn't let go of your shoulder, and a part of you is oddly glad for it. "I'd offer you help with the car, but..."

You're self aware enough to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses, car maintenance being the latter. Wade doesn't even let you get your oil changed by yourself anymore.

"I've met you." He squeezes your shoulder again, the gesture weirdly stabilizing. "Give me 15 minutes to actually look at the car and then I'm all yours."

Wade lets go of you, his arm falling to his side. "Aren't you always?"

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. "You're making me feel cheaper than my usual rate, Peanut."

You smile as he turns away. Things are always a little easier with Wade. It's more than just distraction, it's his way of making things feel a little lighter. You're not sure what to do with your 15 minutes of solitude to avoid falling back into self pity.

You originally broke away from the group of void trapped heroes under the premise of needing fresh air, but even here, with the expansive, sparsely wooded area at your disposal, the oxygen in your lungs still feels flat. If Wanda were around, you'd be able to ask if she felt the strangeness of this other plane of existence as well. At least then you'd know if your dislike of the void is only mental or an actual sign of life from your abilities.

You begin to walk forward, hoping to shed all thoughts of both your former self and the eeriness of this other world. There are other people you could talk to you. The others have been polite enough, or at the very least, passionate enough to be talked into facing Cassandra.

The trees you've been wandering through grow in their sparsity, the edge of the woods revealing a patch of grassland highlighted by a fire's warm glow. You squint past the tree line, attempting to make out the figure sitting in front of the flames. Wolverine.

Secluded from the group and staring at a campfire. Surprising. Though, you guess it's not fair to judge him too harshly, you left the group to brood as well.

He doesn't like you, doesn't know you well enough to dislike you, but it took him no time to find a way to get around that. Maybe it's your proximity to Wade. You've done your best to take his hostility as un-personally as possible. You've seen enough people you really care about go through the guilt ridden, fallen hero thing to know how deep that kind of hurt runs.

You've never known a Wolverine or Logan Howlett variant, so you have no way of knowing what he was like before. Sure, you've heard stories, but you're also overly aware of how the media can twist and turn those stories to fit their narrative. One day, a superhero is the world's greatest protector, and the next their the greatest menace. Maybe he was always a little dark, or maybe he wasn't.

"Don't just stand there." The gruffness of his voice startles you more than it should.

Heat crawls up your neck, a part of you more embarrassed than you should be. You weren't lurking, or at the very least, you weren't trying to.

You sigh as you abandon the safety of the tree line. "Sorry." He turns his head away from the fire. "I wasn't--I was just walking."

He's quiet for such a long moment you almost expect him to not respond at all. "Without your shadow?"

Wow, only a halfhearted dig at Wade. You must have caught him in a good mood. "Friend, and he's looking at the car. I'd be looking at the car with him, but I figured the odds for tomorrow are bad enough as is."

Another uneasy stretch of silence. "Yeah." There's not much, if anything, to take from the comment. "If you're here to convince me to go with you guys tomorrow--"

"I'm not." It's an honest answer. You had been walking around aimlessly and happened to stumble onto him. "I'm not into the pep talk thing." He scoffs, the sound lacking in genuine aggression. "What?"

He lifts his gaze from the fire, his eyes settling on some point past the horizon. "I thought you were an Avenger."

You're not sure what bugs you more, the fact that he's so sure he has you all figured out or the implication that the Avengers spend their days encouraging each other instead of actually doing things. What the Avengers are--or maybe were--is so much more than that.

You step forward, further separating you from the cluster of trees. "The Avengers are about a lot more than that."

His attention briefly shifts onto you before returning to the flames. If the silence is meant to be dismissive, it doesn't feel that way. There's a patience there that doesn't suit his usual brooding.

"Do you care if I sit?" The question is forced out before you can overthink it. "I promise no inspirational speeches or small talk."

After a beat, he dips his chin downwards in a nod so subtle you would have missed it if you had been watching him any less carefully. You're more relieved by his acceptance than you should be, your feet carrying you towards the campfire.

You sit at a polite distance, knees bent in front of you. His silence seems to push against the void's sluggishness. Maybe the issue has been you fighting this world's momentum.

"Why are you with him?" You're not sure if you're more shocked by the question or the break in silence. When all you can do is blink, he continues, "You seem--" He subtly clears his throat, as if struggling to admit this next part, "Nice, normal."

Oh. If you had been focused, you likely would have got what he meant without the clarification. "I know Wade's a lot--especially to you." You place a hand against your knee, thinking about that very specific safety you only feel with Wade. You don't have to try at being anything, or worry about earning your keep in any capacity. "But once you get to know him, he's a good friend."

You look away from the fire pit in time to see the skeptical look Logan throws in your direction. "I'm serious." His expression doesn't change. "He um--after I stopped being important to everyone else, he still liked me ." This isn't the conversation you wanted to stumble onto, especially not with someone who you barely know and actively dislikes you. "That sounds kind of dumb, but the point is, he's loyal."

He turns his head back towards the fire. "You always call him by his name." The observation is so stiff you'd consider it hesitant if it came from anyone else.

You've never thought much about Wade's name. Part of it is familiarity, and the rest of it is a force of habit. Even when you were with the Avengers, you preferred using actual names when off duty. It's easier to separate the mask from the person beneath it when you make an active effort to.

You shrug. "I'm not into off duty superhero names, Wolverine."

He falls silent again. You concentrate on the flames, the way they illuminate the world around you. "You can--" He cuts himself off, attention never wavering from the fire. "You can call me Logan, if you want."

An unsteady warmth roots itself in your chest. You didn't expect any sort of kinship between you and the wolverine Wade stole from some other timeline beyond him occasionally accepting your attempts at creating peace between him and Wade.

"Okay," you focus on keeping your tone measured, avoiding any emotions that might startle him, "Logan."

There's no tension in the quiet that follows. You let the minutes pass until you're certain that Wade's waiting for an interruption disguised as an attempt to help. "I should go, Wade's probably waiting for me."

You push yourself to stand. You let yourself glance at him one last time before turning towards the trees you emerged from.

[ohdeerfully]

hiii! this is my first request on tumblr but i jus love alastor sm and there is NOT enough fics for me out there. so im asking u❤️

what abt alastor being jealous of someone else in the hotel? for example: angel dust, he puts on music and you two are dancing with eachother happily not noticing the red eyed demon with a tight grin. 🥰

Hii! Honestly after writing this I realized I didn't follow the prompt exactly, less jealousy and more Alastor being overprotective. Oh well! Hope you like it anyway :D!

Be Back Soon (i)

alastor x reader (fluff? alastor is just overprotective) part i TW: Cursing/Angel existing if you want tagged in the next part, lmk! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Your fingers dragged down the skin around your eyes as you let out a long sight, sitting at Husk’s bar with shoulders propped on the cold counter. What a day it had been, running around in the typical chaos of the hotel as Charlie tried to get some group bonding activities finished. It was getting late, and you just finally had a moment of peace.

“‘Ey, toots!” The chipper voice broke your peace and you couldn’t help it when another audible sigh escaped you. The culprit of the broken science paid no mind.

Turning your head, you narrowed your eyes and made eye contact with the lanky pink spider. You were a little salty at him in particular, being one of the main catalysts to the everyday insanity. He had an easy grin played upon his lips as he stared back down at you with his multicolored eyes, one pair of arms on his hips that jutted out a little too unnaturally in a mischievous pose. His golden tooth glinted under his light grin with a similar air of “hey I’m up to no good right now.”

“You look fuckin’ tired!” He barked a laugh, dramatically squeezing his eyes shut in a theatrical show of laughing in your face. It really wasn’t that funny, and you couldn’t stop the frown that touched your lips as you watched him. He took pride in being the way he was. Annoying.

“No thanks to you, Angel,” You clipped back. You turned your head to watch Husk, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He had become an expert in ignoring the spider demon’s presence, which was how he managed to stay sane with said demon’s constant flirting and sexual nature.

“Anyway,” He waves away your targeted words with a wave of his hands as his eyes roll up. “I was thinkin’ we get outta here for the night? Me and Cherri were gonna have a “girl’s night.”” You briefly thought about the humor in Angel admitting to being ‘one of the girls,’ but pushed the thought away to consider his invitation. “It wouldn’t hurt ta get some fresh air. This place is real stuffy sometimes, and a huge snooze fest,” he persuaded. He rested his face on one pair of hands, fingers laced under his chin, as he leaned against the bartop in anticipation for your answer.

You purse your lips in thought. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You didn’t go out clubbing a lot, and with Angel and Cherri with you surely nothing wrong would happen. They looked out for their friends, and you would (maybe regretfully) consider yourself Angel’s friend. You glanced at Husk for a moment, as if looking for advice, but his eyes remained close and his lips had an annoyed curl. Maybe you should get out of his hair.

“Okay, okay,” You grinned, a little sheepishly. While you couldn’t really consider ‘fresh air’ to be a feature of Hell, you agreed that you needed to just Get Out of this place. Running errands for Charlie got mundane, even with all the strange characters that cycled through the place. One tends to get used to the chaos.

Angel stretched his arms up in a cheer, which earned a one-eyed, aggravated look from Husk. He uttered something under his breath before grabbing a bottle and walking to the other corner.

“Alright, sweet lips,” Angel cooed at you. “Let's get you dressed! You got anything decent up in your closet?”

Your hand found its way to the back of your neck as you answered sheepishly, “Eh, not really… At least, not for a night out. I don’t really do much outside of the Hotel.” Angel frowned at the response, tapping his chin in thought.

“Lemme take a look,” With a swipe of his arm, your hand was suddenly being held as he dragged you up the steps toward the floor of your room.

Walking down at the same time, you briskly passed by Alastor, who had his eyes closed and a hum in his mouth. His blazing red eyes peered open as you and Angel rushed past him, a quizzical furrow in his brow seeing the connection between your hands. You shot him a shy grin and craned your head back to shout a quick ‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ before you disappeared around the bend of the stairs.

You didn’t miss the dark gleam in his eyes.

Angel, in an attempt to dramatically burst through your door, slammed full body into the entrance. “Ah- the hell?” He cried, roughly jiggling the handle.

“I keep it locked,” you snickered at him and the disheveled look in his usually preened hair. You saw him take his hands to brush it out as you fiddled with the lock, an annoyed mutter of words escaping his lips. The second the door clicked, Angel shoved past you and reattempted his dramatic burst through the entrance with a bit more luck this time around.

He went straight for your closer, rummaging through this and that. What a breach of privacy, this guy is, you thought with a strained smile as you stepped up next to him to try to guide him through your very Ordinary and Plain clothes.

You felt a prickling sensation on your skin, and you swear you heard a frequency of low static, but when you whipped your head around nothing stood there. Did that shadow just move?

Shaking your head, you looked at the piece Angel held proudly in his hands, one pair of arms gripping the top and the second pair pulling the bottom out to really get a full inspection.

It was incredibly simple, but still a bit more revealing than anything you were used to wearing. A deep red top, so cropped it may as well be a sporty bra, with a couple eye-catching accents of rhinestones. Connected with thin straps was a similarly tight pair of booty shorts. Your face flushed at the thought of wearing this. It was practically lingerie.

“Isn’t it a bit, uh, tacky?” You tried in an attempt to dissuade him from this getup. He acted offended, one hand going and pressing against his fluffed chest. You didn’t miss the way he took this as an opportunity and pressed up against himself to perk up his mass of chest fur.

“Babe, I wear shit like this all the time! You tellin’ me,” He started a rant, shaking the clothes in a fit of mock rage. “You tellin’ me I’m tacky? Hah! Me! Angel Dust!” He wiped away a fake tear in his laughter.

Your face flushed again looking at the getup. With a defeated mutter you swiped it from his hands and trekked painfully slowly to the restroom. You ignored Angel’s urgency for you to ‘hurry the hell up’ because it was almost time to get going.

You slowly stripped yourself of your day clothes, gingerly stepping through the tight shorts and tucking your arms through the straps of the top. You didn’t even remember buying this thing, it had been stuffed far in the back of your closet. You couldn’t help the feeling of dread thinking about the other embarrassing things Angel might have seen in there. Though, you doubt anything could phase that guy.

You had to admit, looking at your reflection, that it did accentuate your curves, even if you didn’t have much to begin with. The rhinestone accents glittered in the bathroom light, obviously designed in a way to bring attention to the chest. The straps that connect the two pieces fit snugly against your exposed torso. You were suddenly glad Hell never got that cold.

“Almost ready!” You snapped at Angel calling from the other side of the door. You quickly threw on some touches of makeup, trying your best to compliment the shades of your outfit and adding some glittery makeup around your eyes. You quickly dragged your fingers through your hair to style it comfortably.

You ripped open your door just as fists started banging on it. Angel stood there with two arms raised, stopped midair to keep himself from decking you in the head. You glared up at him, trying to maintain your earlier sourness to hide the fact that the outfit had grown on you.

“Hey, sexy lady!” Angel teasingly leaned himself against the doorframe with a smirk. “Let’s fuckin’ go! You took too damn long! Cherri hates waitin’.”

Grabbing your hand again, he ushered you out of the room. As you raced down the stairs, you tried to continuously preen your hair to keep it from flying out of shape as Angel practically drug you down each step.

He slowed at the bottom, releasing your hand, and stepping towards Husk’s bar to aggravate and flirt with the cat one last time before heading out. You tuned out his sexual innuendoes as you tried to glance over yourself one last time.

“My, what a dame you are!” Alastor’s recognizably radio-afflicted voice ripped your attention away from picking at a loose rhinestone. He stood over you, a slight bend in his waist and an unnatural crane in his neck. His smile was there, but tight and uneasily wide as he examined you through squinted eyes. He leaned his weight against his cane.

Swallowing your unease, you examined his expression. You knew Alastor didn’t care for such… promiscuous outfits. Especially on what he considered his. You knew his compliment was satirical, and you didn’t miss that glint of anger flash through his expression.

“Heyy, Al,” You drew out your words, unintentionally accentuating the awkward tone between the two of you. He paid no mind, keeping up that seemingly cheerful grin of his as he just… stared at you. His fingers tapped impatiently on the radio of his cane, each tap bringing a warp to the frequency that always surrounded him. “I’m going out with Angel tonight. Y’know… to get some air…”

“My dear,” His eyes closed in a laugh and he straightened himself out. “Why would you ever go out there for fresh air? Now, you know those demons would just eat you right up.” A dark sneer infected his smile, lips curling and exposing the line of his black gums.

“‘Ey c’mon, Smiles,” Angel stepped up next to you and lazily threw an arm over your shoulder. You saw that sneer only deepen as Alastor watched the spider get way too close to you. “Give ‘er a break! She’s always runnin’ around doin’ shit for this bum-ass hotel! It makes her… boring!” 

You didn’t know whether or not to appreciate Angel both defending and insulting you. You decided to just ignore his comments as you watched Alastor’s expression get darker and more sinister. You felt a cold sweat prickle at your neck as that static-y frequency of his became more prominent and aggressive as his eyes swept over the two of you, lingering on your exposed abdomen with a frustrated twitch in his brow.

“Why, of course!” He suddenly cheered, brandishing his hands to his side in a slight bow. “But…” He stepped towards you, looming over you. You felt that nervous tickle again. His right hand raised and, with a quick motion, a fairly modest jacket materialized around your shoulders. “All better! Wouldn’t want greedy eyes seeing what’s mine!”

How bold, you thought. He was from the ‘30s, though, and very old fashioned. It made sense that immodest wear bothered him. Plus, you looked down at the jacket. It had a similar color scheme, and was light enough to not be too warm. At least it goes with my outfit. How sweet.

You felt a bit giddy at the permission Alastor had given you–not that you needed it. (You did). You’re a grown ass adult. (It doesn’t matter). You shot him a smile of thanks before dashing out the door, meeting Cherri who had been frequently laying on the car horn for you to Hurry the Fuck Up.

Before Angel Dust could follow, a tight grip on one of his wrists stopped him in his tracks. He hissed, yanking his arm but to no avail. Alastor’s grab was like iron, and his nails began to dig into Angel’s skin.

“Hey you fuck, let me go! I gotta get out there before Cherri starts blowin’ this shit up!”

Alastor pulled Angel in closer, a sneer-like grin crossing his expression. There was a maddening look in his glowing red eyes.

“If she comes home with even the smallest scrape,” He said in a low tone, the garble of his radio slightly distorting his voice. “I’m going to make you wish you never came to this Hazbin Hotel.”

Alastor’s grip didn’t yield as Angel tried again in a futile attempt to release himself. He had a nervous laugh in his voice as he tried to act unintimidated by the Radio Demon’s threat.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you creepy red fuck,” He gruffed back, “Me an’ Cherri will stick right by her. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’.” Alastor’s expression shifted in an instant, his cheerful grin reappearing. He stood up straight and smiled down at Angel. “Good man! Now, don’t be too long,” He shooed Angel out of the lobby, who was more than glad to get the fuck out of there. He heard a faint ‘I’ll be watching’ from behind as he slammed the car door shut, muttering curses under his breath.

He knew Alastor would send that damn shadow of his to keep a close eye, so why the fuck did Angel have to babysit you in the first place? Plus, you weren’t some weak, naive fool. Whatever. He knew Alastor would take any excuse to cause some entertaining mayhem.

He sighed as he looked at you, who had a nervous but excited grin as Cherri rambled and cursed about something.

Maybe he shouldn’t have invited you out. He knew he was in for a long, stressful night. Good thing there would be a bar.

[hotgirlslovecyclops]

be nice!

logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

SMUT

word count: 3606

a/n: i don't know WHERE this came from. i felt this deep in my soul and needed to get it out i am SO SORRY JESUS (i just proofread this... i need to be put down). if anyone's out of character i am so sorry (no i'm not).

If there’s one thing Logan hates, it’s Wade. If there’s one thing Logan loves–even if he won’t admit it–it’s you.

His life is very confusing, living with the both of you. He’ll be with you and he’ll be calm, but then he’ll hear Wade breathe and you can see the irritation forming. He’s only been living with you for a few weeks now, but it’s started to feel normal, waking up to your cooking or your soft humming as you sweep.

This morning, he cracks open an eye when he feels something bump against his leg draped off the side of the couch. He’s ready to grumble, assuming it’s Wade, but he lets out a relieved breath when he sees you instead.

“Sorry,” you whisper, offering a gentle smile. “Didn’t mean to.”

Logan groans softly, stretching as he shifts on the couch. “Don’t worry about it.” You’d gotten used to this, his gruff behavior. It became like second-nature, being able to tell how the slight differences in his attitude gave way to what he was really feeling. “Come on, sit. You’re always working yourself crazy in the mornings.”

“I am not,” you contradict, setting down the broom and taking a seat next to him.

“Every day I wake up and you’re doing something, just relax, will you?”

“That’s because I’ve been awake for hours already, Logan.” You glance at Logan, and you swear you can see a hint of humor in his eyes, but then the sound of Wade’s bedroom door opening makes him roll his eyes. “Be nice,” you whisper.

“Good morning, my loves!” Wade sing-songs as he walks over to the couch, resting his hands on your shoulders from behind. You lean your head back against Wade’s abdomen. Logan’s hand moves to rest on your knee. 

“Hi, Wade.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Be nice,” You repeat, nudging Logan with your elbow. “How’d you sleep, Wade?”

“Oh, great. Dreamt about you all night,” he flirts. 

“Stop flirting with her, asshole,” Logan grumbles, his grip tightening on your knee. 

“Wow, Wolvie, you’re such a party pooper,” Wade says, walking away and towards the kitchen. Logan rolls his eyes, and you can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes you. The way Logan’s mood changes so quickly always gets you.

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. “Come on, tell me,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours. This was… new. Logan’s so sweet to you—he always is—but sometimes he does things that really get to you. It’s hard. You know that he probably doesn’t mean anything by what he does, but Christ, he looks like that—and yes, you’ve seen him shirtless—which makes it impossible to ignore the butterflies that take flight in your stomach when he looks at you.

“It’s nothing,” you shrug, a smile on your face. You’d be surprised if your cheeks aren’t colored pink.

“Yeah?” Logan tilts his head, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Fucking Christ. 

“Yeah,” you nod.

“You look pretty like this, you know. Sittin’ in my lap, all flustered.”

“Yeah, she does!” Wade calls, his head peeking around the corner to look at you. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan demands. “Fuckin’ loser,” he whispers to himself.

“Be nice,” you say, for what’s probably the thousandth time this week. Logan grumbles, but doesn’t reply. He just stares at you, and his gaze softens. “Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he asks, an eyebrow perking up as the other furrows. “Kiss you?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat. He looks over your face quickly, like he’s trying to make sure that’s what you said, but it’s only seconds before his lips are pressed to yours, his hands moving up from your hips to your waist. 

You don’t exactly mean to, but suddenly you’re making out with Logan on the couch, your hips rolling softly, like you need something, and Logan’s not stopping you. You’re losing a sense of reality, the only thing your mind registering being his lips on yours, and then he’s using his hand to pull your hair gently, tilting your head to the side as he kisses down your jaw and onto your neck. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your hand squeezing the back of the couch. Your eyes flutter open to see Wade standing in slight shock. That’s a rare look for him, you note. He brings a hand to his crotch, adjusting his pants. 

“I don’t even know what to say right now,” he says, and you’re sure you’ve never seen Wade speechless before. You’re drawn out of that thought by Logan’s teeth on your neck, a growl coming out of his throat. 

“Ah-” you wince, but it’s more out of surprise than anything else. Logan looks up at you to see your gaze on Wade, and it’s like something clicks for him.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he questions. 

“What?” you ask, your gaze snapping to Logan. “What? What do you mean?”

“You like him seeing you like this,” he explains, but it’s like he knows the answer.

“I–” you’re about to deny it, but then you realize that you do, and now you’re just fucking confused. “Maybe.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl, happens to the best of us,” Logan says quietly. He must be able to tell you’re not just flustered, but embarrassed.

“You’re so hot,” Wade interjects, and you can see Logan fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Huh, at least he’s fighting it. 

“For the love of fuck–” he grumbles. “Is this what you want? You want us both, sweetheart?” You stare at Logan for a minute, trying to form thoughts—any thoughts—and then you’re nodding, and Logan’s raised his hand, gesturing Wade closer without even looking at him. “Whatever you want,” Logan says, his lips smashing against yours again. You feel Wade pressing against you, his hands moving your hair to one side so gently, like he doesn’t know what to do with you. His hands trail along your sides and stomach, occasionally traveling over Logan’s, which just makes Logan hold you tighter. It feels like a lifetime and yet no time at all before Wade’s hands dip under your shirt, lifting it as he feels you up. 

You’re whimpering into Logan’s mouth, and it would be humiliating, but the fact that you’re in a threesome is worse, so you don’t even think about it. “Sound so pretty, gorgeous,” Wade whispers, and Logan must still be peeved about this arrangement, because he’s tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away. 

“You’re mine, you know that, right?” Logan says, and you nod softly. “Good.” Wade tugs your shirt off, throwing it across the room before bringing a hand to your chest, your head tilting backwards. You catch a glimpse of Logan looking you up and down, and it makes your thighs twitch. 

Wade must’ve noticed your reaction, because he squeezes, saying, “It’s okay, buttercup, we’re gonna take care of you. I know it’s been a while.”

“Has it, princess?” Logan asks, and you’re nodding without even noticing it. This is embarrassing, the effect they’re having on you. “Aw, baby,” he teases. Wade takes his hands off of you, sitting on the couch next to you and Logan. Logan’s—big—hands move to your hips, moving you so you’re sitting on Wade’s lap, your back to his front as his hands replace Logan’s. As Logan stands in front of you, you pull at the hem of his shirt with both hands, before trying to push it up his chest. He chuckles lightly before pulling it over his head. Your hips are being forced up by Wade, as he messily tries to push your leggings off. Logan finishes the job, a hungry look in his eyes. 

“Can I take this off?” Wade mumbles against your neck, toying with the clasp of your bra. As soon as you nod, he’s pushing the straps off your shoulders, tossing it in the same direction (generally) as your shirt. 

“Such a pretty little thing,” Logan mutters, getting on his knees in front of you. What the fuck? His hands find your thighs, spreading them further apart as he looks up at you. “You like this, huh? I can tell.”

Wade’s lips are on your neck like this is all he’s ever wanted out of life, and it makes your head roll back. Fuck, has your neck always been this sensitive? You can’t help the surprised squeak that comes out of you when Logan’s fingers are gliding over your panties, his touch so light. Wade groans against your throat. 

“You hear that, baby? You sound so pretty, you’re making Wade crazy.” You whimper, Logan’s fingers pressing harder against you, and it makes you shift in Wade’s lap, his hands squeezing your hips like he can’t handle you moving. “Can I rip these?” Logan asks, tugging on your panties. “Answer, baby.”

“Yes. Fuck, yeah. Go ahead.”

“Good girl,” he says, taking the small fabric in his hands and tearing it apart.

“That’s hot,” you whisper, almost subconsciously.

Wade’s lips are still against you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulders, one of his hands playing with your hair. ”You like that? You are a good girl.”

“Yeah, you are. Fuckin’ good girl,” Logan practically growls, moving his fingers against you, watching how you squirm. “That’s a pretty girl.”

“Fuck, Logan-“

“You want something, baby?” You whimper in response. Wade’s hand moving to your chest. You’ve never felt anything like this in your life—It’s all just so much. “This what you want?” he asks, slipping two of his fingers inside you.

“Mhm, fuck—That’s so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, breathy, as Logan starts to kiss up your thighs, his fingers working you in just the right spot. “Baby—“

“Yes?” he asks, almost like he’s annoyed to have to stop kissing you.

“That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna make you feel much better,” he barely gets out before his mouth is on your clit, his fingers still working inside you.

You whine, Wade sucking on your neck gently. “Wade, baby-“ 

Wade moans against your neck before pulling back. “What, sweetpea?” You grab his hand on your hip, guiding it up to your neck. “Oh. Oh.” Wade lets his hand wrap around your throat. “Didn’t know you were this kinky, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, keep talking, it’s sexy,” I say between moans. It’s like that spurs Logan on, his movements only growing more fervent. “Are you—Oh, my god—Are you trying to be competitive, right now?” I ask, my thighs twitching around his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he says into your core. His voice sends vibrations up your spine. Maybe that’s dramatic, but who fucking cares?

“You like that, baby?” Wade asks. “That we’re fighting over you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You deserve this, you know. To be all loved up on, like this. Sweet, sweet girl. Don’t know what we did to get this lucky.”

“Oh, my God—Please–” 

“Please, what?”

“Yeah, please, what, babygirl?”

“I want your cock.”

“Who’s?” Logan asks, his voice bordering on dangerous. He draws his fingers out of you slowly.

“Either, both, I don’t care.” 

It’s quiet for a second, Logan’s eyes on you, and you can only imagine what Wade’s doing. Logan’s eyes flick to your side, where you imagine that Wade’s face is, and he nods in that direction. “You first,” he says.

Wade stiffens behind you, and he says, “Yeah, okay.”

In an instant, Logan’s pulling you off of his lap gently, asking if you want the bed. You nod, and Logan must notice the nervousness, ‘cause he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to bed. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t gotta be nervous. We’re gonna take care of you, remember?” Logan sets you on your bed gently. When you see Wade, he’s taken his shirt off, and you stare for a second. 

“You’re nervous?” He asks, crawling on top of you. “You shouldn’t be. You look gorgeous. You sound gorgeous, too. You’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re in this for you,” he says, kissing down your body before pulling back to take his boxers off and put on a condom. Logan lays down on the bed next to you, helping you get on top of him. “You ready for me, baby?” Wade asks as he lifts your hips gently. 

“Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Logan encourages, his hands roaming your sides. You feel Wade rubbing his tip against you, and it makes you whimper. Fuck, what have these guys done to you? You don’t even have the chance to think about it, though, because Wade’s pressing into you only a second later, and fuck, it feels good. The noise that Wade makes behind you should be illegal—It’s turning you on far too much. “He feels good, baby?” Logan asks, his hand grabbing your chin, making you look at him. “Come on, answer.”

“Yes! Yeah. He feels so good.”

“Good. I like seeing you like this. So pent up, so pretty,” he says, taking your hair in his hand so it stops getting your face. Seriously? He’s gonna do something so sweet, now?

“Fuck,” Wade groans, drawing out the word. “You feel so fucking good, gorgeous.”

“Wade–”

“That’s me.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

Wade picks up the speed of his thrusts, and it’s like you really can’t form a thought anymore. You don’t even know what Logan’s doing to you, even though you know his hands are on you somewhere. Your moans and whimpers are starting to sound like someone else, almost. Wade’s thrusts are harsh, drawing a sound out of you every single time.

“Wade–Wade, baby–”

“What, babygirl?”

“I’m so close,” you squeak. “So close.” Wade groans at that, his grip on your hips tightening. 

“I’m right behind you, sweets. Don’t hold back.”

You nearly forget that Logan’s there, until he’s kissing your neck and chest. “You heard him. Don’t hold back, princess.”

“I’m right there–Oh, my God—Call me a good girl.”

As if on cue, Logan and Wade talk in unison, “Good girl,” And you never would’ve imagined that could be so sexy. You hear your moans devolve into high-pitched whimpers, and if you didn’t know that you were so close already, that would’ve been a telltale sign. Wade notices too, or he must, because he goes faster—somehow. “There you go.”

“Fuck, fuck, baby—Wade, baby, I’m—” you cut yourself off with a particularly high-pitched moan, feeling the coil in your stomach snap. Wade lets out a moan, and his thrusts grow sloppy, his grip on your hips intense. You struggle to hold yourself up, but Logan’s got you, and when Wade pulls out, he helps you lower into his grasp, wrapping his arms around you as he plays with your hair, whispering into your ear.

“There you go, baby,” he says, shushing you affectionately, “I got you. It’s okay.” You feel the bed shift with the weight of Wade at the edge.

“Holy fuck, sweetcheeks.” Wade’s hand trails gently on your calf. “God. You’re amazing. I’m obsessed with you.” Logan’s hands are tracing patterns on your back, now, as he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

“Wade?” he waits for Wade to hum in response before continuing. “Get outta here.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, no objections. When the door shuts behind him, Logan shifts, looking at your face. 

“You okay? That was okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, still catching your breath. You can’t even believe that just happened. 

“Good,” he says. “Good. You sounded like you were having a good time.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” Logan corrects, and you lift your head, meeting his gaze. There’s this look in his eyes, like he’s happy, really—truly—happy. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All… cute. It’s making me wanna do things to you.”

“Oh.”

“Just ‘oh’,” he teases, a smirk on his face.

“I mean—Uh…” you blink a few times, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I’m… so horny, I’m sorry,” you explain. 

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not gonna apologize for that,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You want me to help you with that?”

“Please.”

“Good girl. Got fucked by her friend, and she’s still got manners.” Logan shifts under you, sliding a hand between your legs, toying with you, just a bit. It makes you hum, and you catch Logan start to smirk again. “I love that noise. You make this little squeak, and it’s so fucking cute, princess.”

He uses his hands to tilt your hips slightly before starting to line himself up with your entrance. You don’t even remember him taking off his pants, or have any idea when he put on a condom. “I’m gonna take care of you, yeah? I know we said Wade would, but…” he shrugs. “Trust me, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, nodding. He could tell you to do anything, and you would. It’s a brief moment before he’s pressing into you gently, and you feel every fucking inch. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he practically growls, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. When he starts to move, you swear it’s like an out-of-body experience, but that could just be because you’re already nearing your second orgasm in ten minutes. 

“Logan, baby—Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, princess? Love it when you curse, it makes you sound all tough.”

“Logan!”

“There’s that squeak,” he says, picking up his speed. You move your hips against his. “That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

“Oh, God—”

“What, does that feel good?”

“Yes, fuck, yes!” Logan chuckles softly, but it quickly turns to a groan as you lift your hips before slamming them back down to his. 

“Are you insane?” he growls, holding onto his hips like he’s worried you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. “You can’t just do that—Jesus.”

“Why not? It felt good. I know it did,” you reason as he continues to thrust into you. 

“Felt too good.”

“I wanna do it again,” you say, a dangerous tone in your voice.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?” you ask, meeting his gaze with the best puppy-eyes you can muster.

“Fuck,” he grumbles. “Okay, sure. Whatever you want, princess.” You lift your hips again, crashing back down onto his with a force that makes you whimper. This is probably harder for you than it is for him, honestly. “Sweetheart–”

You repeat the motion, and it takes the breath out of you. “You feel so good.”

“Baby–” he starts, but he’s cut off as you slam back down onto him. “Are you fucking—Jesus. Baby, you gotta stop that.”

“It feels so good,” you whine.

“I know, but I wanna fuck you, properly.”

Logan’s words make you whimper, and he takes that as an opportunity to roll you over, settling on top of you. He waits for you to nod before pressing into you again, not wasting any time to fall into a torturous pace, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. He uses one of his hands to hold himself up, and lets the other rest on your neck, careful not to apply any real pressure. One of your hands goes up to hold his wrist, and you grab it hard. 

“You need somethin’ princess?”

“Just… don’t stop.”

“I’m not,” he grumbles.

“Logan, baby—”

“I know. I know.” He tilts his hips slightly, hitting an entirely different part of you, and it makes you moan. “Come on, come for me. I know you’re right there.” Logan grunts as he thrusts into you, each one hard, he’s unrelenting, until you’re squeaking out his name, your legs trembling, and your grip on him tightening. And that’s when he knows that he’s got you right where he wants you. “There you go, pretty girl. You’re so good for me. So good,” he says, fucking you through your release. He slows when can tell you’re on the tail-end, and pulls out gently. “There you go,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. 

“Uh—You didn’t…” you trail off.

“Oh, don’t worry about me.”

“But—”

“Sweetheart, you just came twice—’Cause you were getting fucked by two mutants—So I’m not letting you move a muscle. Don’t worry about me,” Logan insists. You nod, and Logan says he’ll be right back—he pulls on his boxers and leaves the room, coming back quickly to clean you up. He has water, too, which you find so sweet. 

He lays next to you a minute later, pulling you into his side. “You know… I’ve had my eyes on you since we met.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Then I found out you were the sweetest thing on this planet, and I felt bad about all the things I wanna do to you,” he says, and you can practically hear the smirk on his voice when he continues to say, “Didn’t know you were into threesomes. Really, I wouldn't have guessed it.”

“I’m not. Not usually, I mean—I don’t know,” you exhale. “You live and you learn, I guess.”

That makes Logan laugh, a real laugh, and you smile at the way his chest moves under you. You’re like this with Logan for some time, chatting while he toys with your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. And you see a new side of Logan, someone more full of life, someone happier. 

“I’m serious, by the way. You’re mine—Or at least, not Wade’s,” Logan says, and it makes you laugh, this time. “That’s funny.”

“No,” you say between chuckles. “It’s not funny,” you giggle.

“That’s what I thought,” he smiles, pinching your side. “Not Wade’s.”

“Definitely not Wade’s.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 9

SUMMARY: Jake Seresin has been trying to take you home from The Hard Deck for a while. However, there's always been something holding you back. A secret that you can't stand the thought of revealing to him. But when he finally gets you to tell him your secret, his reaction is anything but what you expect. And he lets down the "Hangman" persona you've come to know and you see the softer side of Jake.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know why but I just feel like Jake would be super soft and sweet with you if it was your first time. Sure he's experienced, but he's going to make sure that it's all about you and making you feel good.

PROMPT: "Do you want to take it off or should I do it for you?"

KINK: First Time

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Simple P in V.)

WORD COUNT: 6.6k

TAG LIST: TAG LIST: @omgbrianabomgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 I @saucy-sassy-sparkly  I  @alipap3  I  @dudinhastuff  I  @lunatygerqueen  I  @hookslove1592  I  @glenpowellluver  I  @missmarveledsblog

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

The Hard Deck was quieter than usual, the lively chatter and music of the jukebox fading as the night went on. Most of the regulars had already left as it was ten minutes to closing time. Penny had just waved her goodbyes, her voice playful as she teased Jake, telling him not to give you any trouble. You smiled at her back as she disappeared out the door, then went back to cleaning up behind the bar.

Jake leaned against it, watching you with that familiar, teasing glint in his green eyes. You were used to the way his gaze followed you, but tonight it felt heavier somehow—more focused. Maybe because there weren’t any distractions or anyone else vying for his attention now that closing time was here.

"You never stop, do you?" His voice was low, amused, cutting through the quiet.

You rolled your eyes, wiping down the bar one last time, trying to ignore the way Jake’s eyes followed you. You looked up from wiping down the counter. 

"Someone's gotta clean up after you guys," you shot back with a smirk.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, but you know I don’t think that’s the only reason you stay late."

You felt the familiar warmth bloom in your chest, the kind that always came when he said things like that. His charm was effortless, but you’d spent months brushing it off. Well, most of the time. Lately, you weren’t so good at it. Because despite the cocky persona, you were starting to see something more beneath it—something softer, more genuine. And that scared you.

Because even though you liked him—maybe more than you cared to admit—there was one thing you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to tell him.

You shot him a look, half playful, half warning, as you tossed the towel onto the counter. "I mean this is my job and I have to stay until closing no matter what. But…humor moe. What’s that supposed to mean?"

He leaned forward on his elbows, his grin widening. "Just that we both know you don’t mind me hanging around."

Your heart fluttered despite yourself, but you forced a smirk. "You always got a line ready, huh?"

"I don’t need lines with you, sweetheart. I think you know that."

You let out a breath and shook your head, feeling your heart race. "You should get going, Seresin. Penny might’ve been joking, but I’m not in the mood to deal with you tonight."

Jake smirked, but there was a gentleness in his gaze. "Or you could stop pushing me away, darlin'. It's been months, and I think we both know this little game of yours is starting to wear thin." His words were soft, but there was no mistaking the desire behind them.

Before you could respond, Jake walked around the bar. You felt your pulse quicken as he crossed the threshold, coming into your space—so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. He didn’t touch you right away, just stood there, eyes tracing your face as if memorizing every detail.

"Jake," you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out softer than you intended.

He was standing so close now that you had to tilt your head back slightly to look up at him. His eyes, those piercing green eyes, locked onto yours, and you felt the tension building, thickening the air between you.

He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Tell me to stop, and I will," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with desire.

You swallowed, heart racing, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you let the moment hang there, the pull between you undeniable. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you sucked in a breath, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.

"I should—" you started, but the words faltered as he stepped closer, his body now inches from yours.

"You should what?" Jake whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Keep pushing me away? Or finally let me in?"

His hand slid down to your waist, his thumb grazing the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was such a small touch, but it sent heat flooding through you. You had been playing this game with him for months—keeping him at arm’s length, pretending his advances didn’t affect you. But here, now, in this quiet moment with the bar empty and the lights low, you could feel your resolve slipping.

Jake tilted your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Stop pretending you don’t feel this too."

And before you could second-guess yourself, before you could find another excuse to push him away, you surged forward, closing the distance between you. Your lips met his in a heated, desperate kiss, months of tension spilling over all at once.

Jake wasted no time, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you flush against him. His lips were warm, demanding, and you matched his intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed closer, wanting more, needing more. It was as if all the weeks of flirting and teasing had built up to this moment, and now that the dam had broken, neither of you could hold back.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jake rested his forehead against yours, his voice rough. "Let me take you home tonight."

Your heart was racing as Jake’s words hung between you. Let me take you home tonight. His voice was thick with desire, and his forehead was still resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

But as the reality of what he was asking set in, a rush of nerves flooded through you. You pulled back slightly, creating space between your bodies. Jake immediately noticed the shift, his brows knitting together in confusion as you stepped away.

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. 

His hand remained on your waist, though gentler now, as if he was afraid you’d slip away entirely.

You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing, but the words were stuck in your throat. 

He waited, watching you carefully, his expression softening as he searched your face for an answer.

“I don’t… I don’t do that,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake frowned, clearly misunderstanding. “What, a one-night stand?” His lips quirked into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Darlin’, I’ve been chasing you for months. This isn’t just some one-time thing.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. He wasn’t playing around, and you knew it. But that wasn’t what this was about. You looked away, biting your lip as you tried to find the courage to say what had been weighing on you all this time.

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Talk to me,” he urged, his voice low but patient. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability of the moment making you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t expected. The tension between you had always been playful, teasing, but this… this was different. This was real. And the fear of disappointing him was almost overwhelming.

“Jake…” You hesitated, the words thick on your tongue. “I’ve never been with anyone. In that way.”

The weight of your confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of how he might react. But when you finally dared to glance up, you saw something unexpected in his eyes.

There was no judgment. No disappointment. Just understanding.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, grounding you as he took a step closer. “You mean you’re—?”

“A virgin,” you finished for him, your voice barely a whisper.

Jake exhaled softly, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed what you’d said. Then, to your surprise, he let out a small, almost incredulous laugh—though it wasn’t mocking. It was more like he couldn’t believe the situation. “You thought that’d make me walk away?”

“I just thought…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. The truth was, you didn’t know what you had expected. Maybe that he’d see you as some kind of challenge, or that he’d decide it wasn’t worth it. “You’re… you. And I know you’ve been with… other people.”

Jake’s smile softened as he shook his head, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Yeah, I’ve been with other people. But none of them were you.”

His words made your heart skip a beat, and before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender, reassuring kiss. “You think I’ve been showing up at this bar every night just for fun? I’m not here for a fling. I’m here because I want you.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. It was so easy to get caught up in your own insecurities, to assume that someone like Jake wouldn’t want you once he knew the truth. But he was still here, still holding you close, as if none of that mattered.

“I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for,” Jake said softly, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with yours. “But if you’ll let me… I’ll talk you through it. We’ll take it slow.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, and for the first time that night, the nervousness you’d been feeling started to ease. Jake wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pressuring you. He was offering you a choice.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “You’d do that?”

Jake’s smile widened, his green eyes softening. “Darlin’, I’d do anything for you.”

As you and Jake finished closing up the bar, the familiar clinking of glasses and the faint scent of spilled beer lingered in the air. You wiped down the last countertop while Jake stacked chairs, a comfortable silence enveloping the space. But the excitement and nerves bubbling inside you felt electric.

Once the last light was turned off and the door was locked, you stepped out into the cool night air, glancing over at Jake. He stood beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, his casual demeanor making him seem effortlessly charming.

You turned to him, your stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. “So… what happens now?” You felt a bit awkward asking, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

Jake’s smile was warm and genuine, lighting up his green eyes. “Well, we could go to my place or yours. Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

His suggestion sent another thrill of excitement through you. “I think I’d feel better at your place,” you admitted, recalling the warmth and safety of the last time you were there. “My roommate is home.”

Jake nodded, a knowing look on his face. “That’s cool. I actually got a ride here, so if you don’t mind driving…?”

“Not at all,” you replied, leading the way to your car, your heart racing with the prospect of what the night might hold.

Once inside, you fished your phone out of your bag and shot a quick text to your roommate, letting her know you wouldn’t be home tonight. Just as you hit send, her response buzzed through, and you groaned at the barrage of messages that followed.

Your car’s Bluetooth connected automatically, and suddenly, your roommate’s messages began to read out loud in the car. 

“‘Where are you? Who are you with? Are you with the sexy blond pilot from Texas you’ve been talking about?’”

“Are you serious?” you muttered under your breath.

You rolled your eyes, your face flushing with embarrassment as Jake chuckled beside you. “So, am I the sexy blond pilot from Texas you’ve been talking about? Or is there someone else I should know about?”

“Yes, you are,” you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if you were flustered or exhilarated, the thrill of the moment mingling with your nervousness.

Jake grinned, a teasing glint in his eye. “I like that title. It has a nice ring to it.”

As you pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, you couldn’t help but glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He was relaxed, leaning back against the seat, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Don’t worry. I promise not to embarrass you too much in front of your roommate when I meet her.”

You glance over for a second. The “when I meet her” is not being lost on you. He was so confident that this was something more than it seemed like it was. That there would be more times he went home with you. That there would be a point where you introduce him to your friends.

“It’s kind of cute how you get all flustered.”

“Cute?” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, though it was a little breathy. “Is that really the word you want to use right now?”

Jake shrugged, his smirk only growing wider. “What can I say? I’m a fan of cute.”

As you drove through the dimly lit streets, the tension in the car shifted to a more comfortable vibe. You found yourself stealing glances at him, his profile silhouetted against the glow of the dashboard lights, and every now and then, your eyes would meet.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his gaze steady on you, the question sincere.

“Just… this feels surreal,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I didn’t think I’d ever actually go home with someone, especially not someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” he echoed, pretending to be hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, charming, flirtatious, with a history of one-night stands,” you teased, though your heart raced as you said it.

“I’m more than just my reputation, you know.” Jake let out a chuckle, leaning closer as he turned his body toward you. “I promise I won’t be that guy tonight.”

You appreciated his earnestness, and it eased some of your nerves. “What guy are you going to be then?”

“The guy who’s crazy about you,” he said softly, the sincerity of his words hitting you like a warm wave.

You glanced away, your heart pounding, the weight of his confession sinking in. The rest of the drive passed in a comfortable silence, the city lights flashing by as you felt the promise of something more lingering in the air. The only time either of you spoke was when Jake would give you directions on where to turn to get to his off-base apartment.

As you approached his apartment complex, you parked the car and turned off the engine, the moment hanging between you. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for whatever came next.

Jake reached over and gently squeezed your hand, his touch sending warmth through you. “You okay?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze, the tension palpable. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s take it slow, alright?”

As you stepped into Jake's apartment, the familiar warmth and coziness wrapped around you like a hug. The low light from a few strategically placed lamps bathed the space in a golden glow, and the faint scent of cologne lingered in the air. It felt inviting, and for a moment, the nervous energy that had been building since you left The Hard Deck began to dissipate.

Jake closed the door behind you and gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself at home. Want something to drink?”

You glanced around, taking in the soft, comfortable furnishings and the scattered remnants of his life—a few books on the coffee table, a framed picture of him and his fellow pilots, and a small plant in the corner that added a splash of green. “Sure, um… what do you have?” you asked, a hint of nervousness creeping back into your voice.

“Beer, water, or I think I might have some whiskey,” he replied, flashing a playful smile. “I could also make us some fancy cocktails if you’re feeling adventurous.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll stick with beer for now. I think my nerves could use something familiar.”

“Good choice,” he said, moving toward the small kitchen area, and you followed, taking a seat on the couch. The soft cushions cradled you, a welcome comfort. As he grabbed two cold beers from the fridge, you noticed the way his muscles flexed, the effortless grace with which he moved.

He returned, handing you a bottle and plopping down beside you. “So, what do you want to watch?” He reached for the remote, casually leaning back against the couch, his proximity both comforting and electrifying.

You took a sip of your beer, grateful for the momentary distraction. “I’m not picky. What do you usually watch?”

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m a sucker for anything with explosions, but I guess I could put on something less intense for you.”

“Maybe something funny?” you suggested, smiling. “I could use a good laugh right now.”

“Alright, let’s see what we can find,” he replied, scrolling through the options before settling on a comedy special. The familiar sound of laughter filled the room, and as you settled back, you felt the tension begin to ease away.

As the comedy special played on, you found yourself laughing at the jokes, the atmosphere gradually shifting from tense to relaxed. You both exchanged playful banter, the conversation flowing easily between you as you started to feel more at ease.

Jake made a few jokes that had you in stitches, and it felt refreshing to be with someone who made you laugh so easily. The sound of his laughter was infectious, and soon you were both caught up in a lighthearted exchange.

At one point, he leaned closer, his body angled toward yours, and you caught the warmth of his gaze. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few months,” he said, his voice softening, sincerity spilling over the humor. “You’re not like other girls I’ve met.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “You’re real. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. I like that.”

A small blush crept across your cheeks at his compliment. “Thanks, I guess,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you.

The air between you crackled with an undeniable tension, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to Jake. He maintained a patient silence, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for a cue. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

After a moment, you gathered your courage, leaning in just slightly, your breath hitching as you closed the distance. Jake's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly in anticipation.

When your lips finally met, it felt electric. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration, but as you melted against him, the softness deepened into something more passionate. Jake’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he responded to your kiss with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine.

You lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the world outside fading into oblivion. The kiss was everything you had imagined—sweet, thrilling, and filled with an unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found Jake watching you with a mix of admiration and desire in his eyes. 

“Wow,” he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t think you could get any cuter.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment, but the warmth of his body against yours was urging you to take things further. “Maybe we should… do something else,” you suggested your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s smile widened, and without hesitation, he stood, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said, leading you toward his bedroom.

The moment you stepped inside, you felt a rush of anticipation. The room was dimly lit, with a warm glow emanating from a bedside lamp. It felt safe and intimate, the perfect setting for what was about to unfold.

Jake turned to you, his expression serious yet inviting. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, as if he were afraid to push you too far too fast.

You nodded, feeling more confident now that you were here with him. “I am,” you replied, your heart racing with excitement. “I want to be with you.”

He closed the space between you, cupping your face in his hands. “Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

You smiled at him, grateful for his understanding. He leaned in, capturing your lips again in a heated kiss. His hands roamed your back, sending sparks of electricity through your skin, as you melted into him. You could feel the intensity of his desire mirrored in your own, and it filled you with a sense of exhilaration.

With a gentle nudge, Jake led you to the bed, sitting you down as he knelt in front of you. He took a moment to look up at you, his green eyes filled with warmth and something deeper—something that made your heart race.

“Are you really okay with this?” he asked again, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves.

You reached for him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “I am,” you assured him, your heart swelling with affection. “Just… be gentle with me.”

“Always,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you softly, a world of emotion wrapped up in that one gesture.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, and the weight of your nervousness slowly began to lift. Jake’s hands moved to your waist, guiding you as he joined you on the bed, settling beside you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and inviting.

A wave of heat washed over you at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied shyly, the chemistry between you undeniable.

As the kiss deepened, a surge of confidence coursed through you. With a newfound boldness, your hands slid down Jake's chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it fueled your desire. As you pushed his shirt up, Jake paused, letting you take the lead for just a moment longer.

With a playful smile, he pulled away just enough to shed the shirt completely, revealing his toned torso. Your breath hitched at the sight, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and admiration.

His hands moved to your shirt next, fingers gently grazing your skin as he looked into your eyes, searching for your consent. “Do you want to take it off, or should I do it for you?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach, a thrill at being so vulnerable yet completely safe with him. “You can do it,” you replied, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

With a smile that sent warmth pooling in your chest, Jake carefully lifted your shirt, baring your skin inch by inch. His touch was gentle, and you reveled in the sensation of being exposed to him. Once your shirt was off, he leaned down, kissing a trail down your neck, shoulders, and collarbones, sending shivers through you.

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent waves of anticipation through you. With a deep breath, you caught him off guard by whispering, “I want more.”

Without missing a beat, Jake’s lips found yours again, igniting a fire that burned brighter than before. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your body as he trailed kisses down your chest, pausing to pay attention to every sensitive spot. The way he worshipped your skin made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

With each kiss, your confidence grew, and the nervousness that once lingered began to fade into exhilaration. You melted into him, losing yourself in the sensation of his warmth against you.

Jake’s kisses ignited every nerve ending in your body, and you responded instinctively, arching into him as he continued his exploration. His hands moved expertly, caressing your skin and pulling you closer, as if trying to fuse your bodies into one.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone, and the way he looked at you, with such intensity and reverence, made you feel like the only person in the world.

Feeling emboldened, you reached out, your fingers grazing his jawline before tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you captured his lips once more. The kiss was fervent, passionate, and filled with the promise of everything that was yet to come.

With a playful glint in his eye, Jake pulled back just slightly, his breath hot against your lips. “Just so you know,” he said, a teasing smirk on his face, “this is definitely not a one-time thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter, more alive than ever. “I’m glad,” you replied, your heart swelling with anticipation for what the night had in store.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the heat between you both intensifying. Jake's hands moved with a mix of urgency and tenderness as he helped you slide out of the rest of your clothes. Each piece of fabric that fell away felt like a barrier dissolving, but as you lay fully exposed before him, a wave of shyness washed over you. The vulnerability was overwhelming, and your heart raced with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Jake noticed the change in your demeanor, the way your confidence seemed to flicker just for a moment. With a gentle smile, he leaned over to grab a blanket from the edge of the bed, pulling it up over both of you, as if to cocoon you in warmth and comfort. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes filled with reassurance, “you’re stunning. Just take a deep breath.”

You glanced at him, his presence grounding you even as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. His gaze was warm, filled with a mix of desire and admiration, and it helped ease some of your nerves. But there was still the matter of the not-so-fun conversation to be had.

“Okay, we should talk about… you know,” Jake said, his voice a little more serious as he leaned back slightly, creating a little space. “Protection.”

You nodded, feeling your heart race in a different way now. “I’m on the pill,” you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady. “But I’d prefer it if you wore a condom too.”

Jake’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “Absolutely,” he said, a hint of relief in his tone. “Better safe than sorry.” He leaned over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and retrieving a condom.

You watched as he slid it on with practiced ease, the action both intimate and reassuring. It reminded you that despite the heat of the moment, he was still focused on your comfort and safety.

Once he was ready, he turned back to you, the blanket still wrapped around your bodies. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease, the warmth of the blanket and his presence enveloping you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… a little nervous.”

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s completely normal. We can take this as slow as you need.”

With that, the nervous tension began to ebb away, replaced by the gentle caress of anticipation. Jake shifted closer, his body warm against yours beneath the blanket. You could feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, a comforting reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll follow your lead,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any signs of hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded again, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you. “I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady now.

A grin broke out on Jake’s face, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Then let’s make this a night to remember,” he replied, his tone a mix of excitement and reverence.

With that, he closed the space between you, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slow and deliberate. The world outside faded away, and in that moment, it was just you and Jake, ready to explore the depth of your connection together.

As Jake positioned himself at your entrance, a rush of anticipation coursed through you. He paused, looking deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of uncertainty. With a gentle nod from you, he began to slide himself inside you, inch by inch.

The initial sensation was unfamiliar, but it wasn’t painful; instead, it felt like a warm, fulfilling stretch, unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Your breath hitched as he moved slowly, allowing you to adjust to this new intimacy. Jake’s lips found your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone, whispering sweet nothings that made your heart race even faster.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with awe.

You nodded, feeling his warmth envelop you, both physically and emotionally. With each gentle thrust, he slid deeper, filling you completely. The rhythm he established was deliberate, slow, and tender, letting you savor every sensation.

“Tell me how it feels,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, his green gaze intense and sincere.

“It feels… good,” you breathed out, the words escaping before you could second-guess yourself. 

A smile spread across his face, his confidence mingling with genuine affection. “That’s all I want. Just want to make you feel good. You just tell me if you want me to go faster or if you want me to slow down.”

You shook your head, feeling more confident with every soft thrust. “No, just… keep going.”

Encouraged by your words, Jake adjusted his position slightly, finding a deeper angle. The pleasure built steadily, warmth pooling in your core as he moved. Each gentle thrust sent waves of sensation coursing through you, the connection between your bodies deepening with every moment.

He continued to whisper to you, his voice a mix of reassurance and desire. “You’re doing amazing. Just like that. You’re perfect.”

Jake’s kisses traveled back to your lips, capturing your mouth again in a heated kiss that ignited the spark between you even further. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, as if he wanted to envelop you completely.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as you felt yourself responding to his rhythm, instinctively moving with him. The sensation of his skin against yours ignited every nerve ending, making you gasp softly between kisses.

“You’re incredible,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and filled with admiration.

His words sent a thrill down your spine. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the sensations he was creating, the warmth radiating from where you were joined. You focused on your breathing, allowing each inhale and exhale to synchronize with his movements, feeling the heat pooling in your core grow more intense.

“Jake,” you whispered, the name barely escaping your lips. You felt more vulnerable than ever, yet there was a thrill in that vulnerability, a trust in the way he held you, as if he were cherishing you.

With a gentle movement, he shifted his angle, and suddenly a wave of pleasure surged through you, almost overwhelming in its intensity. You gasped, feeling the unfamiliar sensation build higher and higher within you.

“Did you like that?” he teased, his breath warm against your neck. He began to pick up his pace, the urgency in his movements matching the rising tide of pleasure. 

You could only nod, too lost in the moment to find the words.

“Good,” he breathed, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I want you to feel everything, to let it all in.”

As he continued to move inside you, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, silently urging him to keep going.

“You can let go, baby. Just enjoy it,” he encouraged his voice a steady anchor amidst the rising waves of pleasure.

And let go you did. You surrendered to the sensations, allowing each thrust to send you higher and higher, the world outside becoming a blur as you focused solely on the feeling of him inside you, filling you, moving with you.

Your breaths came in shorter gasps, and you felt an unfamiliar tightening deep within you, the unmistakable sign of your impending climax. 

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pleasure, but Jake seemed to sense your body’s reactions.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours for permission. “I want to see you let go.”

With a final, desperate thrust, that wave crashed over you, enveloping you in ecstasy. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room as the world exploded in colors behind your closed eyelids.

Jake followed you, his movements becoming more erratic as he found his release, his body tensing above you, his eyes locked onto yours. In that shared moment of bliss, everything fell away—the doubts, the worries, and the fears—all that existed was the two of you, intertwined in a dance of passion and vulnerability.

As you both rode the waves of pleasure down, Jake collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his heart racing in time with yours. You nestled into him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

“Wow,” he finally breathed, his voice still thick with disbelief. “That was… incredible.”

You chuckled softly, still catching your breath. “Yeah, it was.”

Jake stroked your hair gently, his fingers weaving through the strands. “You okay?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

You nodded, looking up to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I am. More than okay, actually.”

A smile spread across his face, a mixture of relief and delight. “Good. Because that was just the beginning.”

After disposing of the condom, Jake crawled back into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. He noticed you instinctively covering yourself with the blanket, a hint of shyness creeping in after the intense connection you had just shared.

With a soft chuckle, he quickly rummaged through his dresser, retrieving a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Hey,” he called out gently, “you might want to get comfy.” He tossed the clothes toward you, a playful grin on his face.

You caught the shirt and pants, a smile tugging at your lips as you slipped into the bathroom. After changing, you took a moment to compose yourself. The lingering sensations from earlier sent butterflies swirling in your stomach, and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. You glanced at your reflection, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief washing over you.

When you finally stepped out, you found Jake lying in bed, now wearing a pair of sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard, his phone in hand. 

His eyes lit up the moment he saw you. “There you are,” he said, grinning. “Looking good.”

You felt the warmth spread across your cheeks at his compliment. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice soft as you moved to the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath your fingers.

There was a confidence radiating off him like a warm glow. “How are you feeling?” he asked genuine concern in his gaze.

“Still processing, I think,” you admitted, shifting slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket pooling around your legs. “But… I’m really happy.”

He smiled at that, his expression softening. “Good. You should be. That was amazing.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break free. “It was,” you agreed, glancing down at your hands for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but…”

“But?” he prompted, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“But it was better than I ever imagined,” you finished, feeling a rush of honesty.

Jake’s smile widened, and he scooted closer to you, his knee brushing against yours. “I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to feel that way, you know?” He paused, his voice turning serious. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of warmth spread through you at his words. “I know. I trust you,” you said softly, searching his gaze for any sign of doubt. But all you found was sincerity.

“Good,” he replied, his tone lightening again. “So, what do you want to do now? We could order food, watch something ridiculous on TV, or just talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the options. “Food sounds good,” you said, feeling your stomach rumble in agreement.

“Alright,” he said, leaning back against the headboard with a playful smirk. “I’ll let you pick. Just know, if you choose pineapple on pizza, I might have to reevaluate our relationship.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “No pineapple, I promise.”

“Whew,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he had been spared from a terrible fate. “That’s a relief.”

As you reached for your phone to look up menus, you felt the tension from earlier dissolve into the comfortable atmosphere around you. You couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth and safety that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

You exchanged jokes and light-hearted banter, the air filled with laughter. It felt easy, the way it always had, but now there was an added layer of intimacy that made your heart race every time his hand brushed against yours.

“Alright, I think I found a place,” you said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. “How about tacos? They have really good ones.”

Jake nodded, looking pleased. “Tacos it is. But you have to promise me we’ll get dessert afterward.”

“Deal,” you agreed, your stomach fluttering again, both from the food and the closeness of him beside you.

After placing the order, you settled back into the bed, leaning against Jake as he grabbed the remote. With a few clicks, the TV flickered to life, a mindless comedy playing in the background as you both relaxed.

Every so often, he would glance at you, a soft smile on his face as he made jokes about the show. You could feel the chemistry between you, the tension of the night slowly morphing into something warm and comforting, as if you were both basking in the aftermath of what had just unfolded.

[sea-lanterns]

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

synopsis: (slasher! AU) the killer that haunts your dreams is real.

featuring: rosaria

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom character, character is a serial killer, mentions of blood, mentions of gore but nothing like that happens, rosaria has knives, dark humor, reader is a virg.in, slight degradation, knife play, predator and prey ki.nk, cunnilin.gus (reader recieving), biting, reader gets nicked accidentally, may be ooc.

art credits: tomie

Perhaps it was the paranoia that was gnawing at your chest, but you felt as if someone was watching you from the dark corners of your room ever since you got into bed. For the past few nights or so, your dreams have been haunted by the same, shadowy woman that would chase you down in various parts of your town, waking you up just before she could get close enough to get her hands on you. Every night you would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding with adrenaline as everything these dreams did made you feel as if you were living it in reality. You hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while, the bags under your eyes prominent and worrying everyone you knew around you. 

Get therapy perhaps? No, no matter what everyone suggested, you knew this was more than simple nightmares and hallucinations. The woman felt real, she is real. The way she would hunt you down with a looming prescience, her tired smile haunting your visions while she dragged her blade-like gloves across the wall, emitting a painful screeching noise that would play on repeat whenever you started feeling anxious. This wasn’t good, you needed this to stop and you needed it to stop now. 

“I’m going insane…” you mumbled to yourself, laughing deliriously from the lack of sleep and staring at the ceiling of your room. Oh goodness, you were tired. You needed sleep but you knew that if you fell into dreamland, that woman would appear again and try to kill you. Every touch, every breath, she drew closer in your sleep, taunting you to close your eyes and let her ravish you in your dreams. 

“I can’t…” your eyes felt heavy, her smile a taunting reminder for you to close your eyes. “I…”

Close your eyes…

It felt as if she were whispering it into your ear, your consciousness on the edge of falling towards her. You wondered if you could do something about this, something that could stop her from tormenting you with her prescience. But alas, you found yourself feeling heavy, the ghostly hands caressing your cheek and drawing you in like an invisible invitation. 

You can’t…

Close your eyes…

The curse you let out was violent. Angry. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for falling asleep so easily, trying to will yourself to wake up before the woman appeared again. As you looked up at your surroundings, you found yourself on the campus of your university, yet there was no one else around and it was pitch black dark outside.

You began walking along the path of your campus, feeling uncomfortable with being out in the open like this. You figured you should probably hide, but honestly it wasn’t like hiding was your best chance of survival. No matter where you ran or hid in your dreams, that damned shadowy woman would always find you. 

A memory of her appearance flashed before your eyes, her tall, looming figure casting her presence in your mind. Rosaria… you remembered her name. How she would purr it in your ear moments before she was about to strike. Rosaria… you wouldn’t dare forget it, her wicked smile stretching ear to ear like a cat toying with a mouse. 

You jolted when you thought you heard the screeching noise of metal against metal. Her claws. Oh how could you forget about her claws? They were the thing that frightened you the most about her. The way they would eerily scratch against the wall to warn you of her presence…

Speaking of her claws, you should probably move faster. It was getting to the point in your dreams where she would make her presence known.

You hurried off the sidewalk and into one of the buildings of your university, hoping you could survive until your brain eventually woke up. Your university looked and sounded eerie without anyone else inside the building, your footsteps echoing on the tiled floor as you kept a lookout for your killer. 

Everything felt straight out of a horror film, each moment of silence building up the suspense. You were surprised you didn’t wake up automatically due to your unusually high heart rate (or die of a heart attack). As you continued walking, you felt as if your footsteps were echoing a little louder than usual…

You stopped. Took one step forward, and the step ricocheted twice as loud through the walls. Another step. Another. You stopped again and felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t think she would find you so soon. 

Without turning around to see if she was actually there, you bolted. The footsteps behind you breaking into a sprint as well as panic began to settle into your nerves. How does she always find you so fast? You let out a cry and tried upping the pace, not bothering to look back. “Leave me alone!” You cried out desperately, tired of these endless nightmares where you felt like you were in a constant death cycle. 

Rosaria didn’t say anything, but you knew she could hear you. Your mind whirling with ways of how to escape from her and mapping out possible hiding spots. The boiler room… you figured you could hide in there, almost no one ever knows how to get down there except for you and the custodians. 

You took a sharp corner and ran to the door that had a Do Not Enter sign. So, like the rebellious woman that you were, you entered anyway. 

It was darker than usual in the basement. The cinder block walls were covered in a thick mildew that made you cover your nose with your sleeve. You forgot how musty it was in here, but nevertheless you found yourself a nice hidden corner to tuck yourself in and hide. You didn’t know when your body would finally wake up, when this nightmare would finally end. All you could do was sit there and wait, hoping morning came before that woman could find you… 

You recalled the first time you encountered her in your dreams. She had some pretty nasty scarring on her face that came from what looked like a burn, however underneath all that rough exterior, you could make out a beautiful face underneath. 

Damn. For a woman as insane as she was, she was still attractive for your tastes. You rested your head on the metal of some pipe, scrunching up your nose at the thought. Of course you had a thing for scary women, but honestly now was not the time to crush on your killer… 

You heard that high-pitched screeching noise of her metal claws dragging against the wall again, causing you to tense up. She was close. You held your breath and tried to make yourself appear as small as possible, shoving yourself deeper into the corner that you wedged yourself in. The handle of the basement door twisted open, its click reaching your ears and making you freeze in place.

How the hell did she find the hidden door?

The woman’s heavy, intimidating footsteps slowly roamed around the basement. A small hum leaving those cracked lips of hers as she got closer and closer. Well, you were trapped. With your back against the wall, you knew you had no place to run and squeezed your eyes shut.

Her footsteps suddenly stopped, but they sounded quite close to where you were hiding. This was it, this was how you would die. In your dreams, in your sleep, where no one will be able to figure out the real cause of your death in the real world. 

Cold metal lightly traced the bottom of your chin, making you let out a whimper. A small, strained chuckle left the woman in front of you, her face stretching into a grin at the sight of you.

“Open your eyes, girl.” Her voice was raspy and grated, it was like she hadn’t spoken in a long time. Her grip tensed a bit more around your chin, making you yelp pathetically for fear of her claws nicking you. She chuckled at the yelp, gently brushing your cheek with a claw and silently ushering you to obey. 

You did, slowly opening your eyes and focusing on the woman in front of you. Rosaria…

She was just how you remembered her. That same, sleazy smile plastered on her disfigured face, the burn marks and scars running over her skin but failing to hide her beauty. Your biggest fear was standing right in front of you, cupping your face in her hands (claws?) and having you knelt pathetically on the floor for her. You hated it. Hated how pathetic you looked, hated how she stared down at you like the victor of the hunt. She had you cornered so easily and you hated it. 

“You look like you want to bite my nose off.” Rosaria chuckled, gently poking your nose with the tip of her finger. She would pinch it if she could, if not for the knives she had on her fingers. “Like a cornered rat…”

You glared at her, as that nickname was uncalled for. However, it seems that Rosaria didn’t see it as a bad thing, as she continued “petting” your face and making your nerves dance under her fingers. 

“--and to think that I found you in the boiler room too. Don’t look so upset, rats are quite the intelligent creatures, and it took several dreams of chasing you to finally have you in my grasp.”

You gulped as her bladed fingers slowly traced over your cheek, over your lips, and then down your neck. Maybe you were just imagining it, but her eyes almost looked…intrigued. Watching the way a small lump of saliva went down your throat from how nervous you were, admiring the goosebumps on your skin as she traced a blade over the groove of your neck, almost like she was about to slit it. 

“You are surprisingly calm for a woman who has several knives to her neck.” Rosaria comments, finally making eye contact with you again and smiling. “Or perhaps, you’re too scared to say anything to me?’

Well what can you say? Please let me live? Fuck you for ruining my sleep schedule? It didn’t matter anyways, your last words would be heard from a serial killer that only existed in your dreams. There really was no point in talking to her. 

Your lips formed a thin line and you closed your eyes, admitting defeat and knowing when you had been bested. She won. She caught you and wore you down, your body too tired to even fight back after all these days. 

Rosaria simply stared back at you for a while, her face blank as she watched you submit yourself.

“...Silly girl.” she chuckles, licking her scratched up lips and tilting your chin up to look at her. “Are you waiting for me to slit your throat? Gouge out those pretty eyes perhaps? Murder you?” She let out another dry laugh, watching the tears in your eyes make your pupils appear all the more glossy. Gods above you were cute. Quite pathetic, but very, very cute to the killer. “You’d be fun to murder, but much more fun to keep around.”

“...H-Huh?” the word came out quite dumbly, almost instinctively from how tired you were. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I quite enjoy hunting pretty girls like you,” she ran a blade across your head, almost like a caress. “You scream, you cry, it’s adorable. But…I like you, little rat.”

She grinned again when you subtly pouted at her. She would have to keep calling you a rat more often. “You are very resistant, staying awake for as long as you can, drinking all those caffeinated energy drinks so you don’t fall asleep.”

“H-How did you–”

She cut you off before you could question her more, one of her blades moving dangerously quick to shut your lips. She was amused at how quickly you froze up, fear settling in as you were afraid she would cut your lips. “Hush now…” she murmurs, lowering her body a bit so that she is directly in front of you. “Don’t question things beyond your understanding, girl. Your cute brain will hurt too much.” 

She laughed as she belittled you, treating you as if you were some child. You gritted your teeth and wanted to say something back, but the blade on your lips was still there. “Listen…I know how desperately you wish to wake up, to get away from me…” 

She leaned in and purred into your ear, a shiver running down your back.

“So why don’t I help you?” 

You nearly jolted at the implications, your face feeling hot from how much adrenaline was rushing through your veins. Rosaria smiled at your fear, before clarifying herself. “I won’t kill, or harm you in any way. To wake up from my dreams, your heart rate must exceed a certain amount, yes? Then your body will wake up on its own…”

Your breath hitched when you suddenly felt another set of blades trail down your stomach, her other hand making its way to your nether regions. 

“I can accelerate your heart rate in another way.”

Before you could ask her what she meant, she suddenly moved closer to you, her lips dangerously close to yours. A gasp left your lips, having never been so close to your killer before. She was even more attractive up close, every scar and burn on her face simply adding to her horrifying beauty. You couldn’t look away from her. 

“May I…?” she hummed. 

“What?”

“Kiss you.”

She was blunt with her answer, tracing your stomach under your shirt with a blade. “I promise you’ll feel even better than…” she laughed a little, “Say, getting killed.” 

Her humor was dark, but it was fitting for a woman like her. You wanted to say no at first, but the more you thought about it, the more you gazed upon her and her features, you felt a small part in the back of your mind say yes. 

“Okay…” you responded meekly, a bit hesitant but curious. Rosaria’s smile widened, pulling you so close your lips nearly brushed against her on the spot. “You’ll enjoy it.” 

She then pushed her lips against yours, the feeling bringing a burning feeling to your core. Her lips were dry and slightly cracked due to her scars, but even if it felt odd at first, you found yourself almost intrigued by the feeling. Her lips were warm. Somehow comforting in a way as she pushed you up against the wall and kissed you harder. 

Oh…how soft your lips were. Rosaria had long forgotten what soft, unscarred lips felt like. She wanted to touch them, kiss them, lick them, she was absolutely enamored by how sweet and plush they were. 

“Damn…you’re soft…” Rosaria murmured, her lips turning into a grin mid-kiss, before smushing them against you once more. “You might die of asphyxiation because of me instead…”

She chuckled at her dark jab of humor, before growling more hungrily into the kiss and wanting her tongue inside you. As you whimpered at how rough she was getting, you felt her hot tongue lick a stripe against your lips, seeking entry into your mouth. You obeyed, parting those lips she loved so much and allowing her to taste you from the inside. 

Rosaria loved the submission. Her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure while she groaned at the feeling of your tongue meekly pushing back. She parted away and licked the messy drool from the corner of your mouth, smirking at the absolutely dazed expression you gave her as it was clear this was your first time. “Never had another woman’s tongue in you before?” Rosaria hummed, gently tapping the outside of your cheek. “It’s okay, that means it’ll be easier to get your heart pumping twice as fast…”

She dove right back in for another kiss when you weren’t paying attention, dragging her blades down to your shorts. They were the thin kind, just comfortable sleeping shorts you often wore to bed, which made Rosaria all the more happier. “So thin and raunchy…I can’t believe you sleep in these every night.” She smiled and used the tip of her blades to tear the fabric with ease, the sound ripping through your ears and causing goosebumps to form on your thighs. Rosaria pulled away from you, licking her lips as the tatters of what used to be your shorts hung from your knees. 

The woman’s eyes narrowed upon your choice of underwear for the night. Simple, yet very cute cotton panties that barely covered your virgin cunt. She didn’t miss the way your arousal so shamelessly seeped through the fabric of the underwear, clearly turned on by what she was doing to you. “Ah…so wet, hm? Never realized you got all hot and bothered by serial killers?” She grinned at your embarrassment and pulled the elastic on the waistband with her finger. 

It seemed she was gauging how far the elastic would stretch before it inevitably snapped under the sharpness of her blade, enjoying the thrill of seeing more and more of your privates. 

“So pretty and hot.” Rosaria rasped, the growl in her throat prominent as she finally tore your panties to shreds. You let out a gasp and tensed at the sight of her finger blades so close to your cunt, dangerously close as something so sharp next to something so sensitive was making you scared. 

Scared…? Or aroused? You honestly had no idea as that small pulse of heat in your core was difficult to gauge. 

“Mmm…spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” Rosaria hummed, ushering for you to lay on your back and prop yourself up using your arms. You were in such a vulnerable position, legs spread and stomach exposed, looking like a little rodent that had been ensnared under the claws of the carnivore. “Have you ever been eaten out?” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head no, having only seen that sort of thing in pornos and 18+ films. Rosaria smirked and suddenly got down on her knees in front of you, opening her scarred lips and extending her tongue out almost teasingly. “Well, you’re about to experience it now.” 

She grabbed your hips, ensuring you wouldn’t squirm away –which was pointless because you had nowhere to squirm to– and caged you underneath her mouth. It really did feel like you were about to be eaten by a predator, the way she so hungrily drooled at the sight of you twitching so needily. After savoring the sight of you for a few more moments, Rosaria was finally ready, letting out an almost animalistic growl and licking up your inner thighs.

Just like the rest of her, her tongue was quite rough. Except it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you thought, her rough tongue slowly inching its way to the delicate muscle of your clit, making you arch your back a little. “Mm…down.” Rosaria commanded firmly, making your back hit the floor again as she licked small ministrations getting closer to your heat. With each lick, each hot breath from her mouth, you felt your pussy throb with need, a choked gasp leaving your throat. 

Rosaria smiled to herself at how desperate you looked, having successfully gotten you to submit and feel the pleasures she had to offer you. She took one last look at your pathetically lustful face, before focusing on her next target; your clit. 

She leaned in and finally placed her tongue on your swollen clit, making you jolt and whine at the sensation. Rosaria had to hold you down again, groaning and getting impatient with you for being so jumpy. “Down.” She growled again, gently nipping at your clit as punishment for disobeying her orders. 

You cried out, legs shaky from the stimulation that Rosaria was giving you. She went down again, slowly licking long stripes across your clit before wrapping her lips around it and sucking. Though the noises she was making were raunchy and embarrassing for you, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction she gave you whenever she paid attention to the areas you needed the most. 

Your body heat only rose more as Rosaria traced her tongue more over your folds, sliding the tip in between them and making your heart rate spike. The more gasps and whines you let out, the more Rosaria slobbered over your cunt, getting hungrier and hungrier for your orgasm. 

“Oh…shit.” Rosaria grumbled to herself, slotting her tongue deeper and getting drunk on the taste. “You taste really good…” 

Her tongue continued to make wet slurping sounds, trying to draw you closer to your orgasm. You had never gotten wet or orgasmed before in your life, so to have your virginity taken by a nightmarish serial killer was almost pathetic when you put it into words–

Oh, but what the hell. She felt so good and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to be mad anymore. Your hands made their way to Rosaria’s hair and tangled into her wine-colored hair, tugging on them and bringing her closer to your cunt. She let out an almost breathless sigh at that, smushing more of her face into your thighs. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you to do that to me.” She groaned, enjoying the way you grabbed onto her short hair. “You have guts I’ll give you that.” 

She let you hold onto her like a lifeline, pushing her tongue further and watching you cry out in ecstasy. You didn’t think her mouth would feel so good, and Rosaria didn’t think your pussy would taste this good. Both of you were entangled in a world of pleasure with each other, your whines further spurring Rosaria on and making her want to see you orgasm for the first time. You felt your body getting close, your heart pumping wildly in your chest and making you feel as if you were about to burst. 

“Coming so soon…?” Rosaria hummed, that same sleazy smile stretching on her lips. “Quite pathetic, but it’s adorable.” 

You would normally have something snarky to quip back at her, but the only thing that left your lips was a half-strangled moan. She continued pushing you, edging you with her tongue as she brushed over your entrance with those scarred lips of hers. This, combined with the sensation of her thick tongue maneuvering deep inside you was enough to make you see white. Your walls tightened and your thighs instinctively clamped around Rosaria’s face, causing one of her claws to accidentally nick you in the process.

It didn’t hurt, if anything it felt more like a paper cut, but Rosaria was so stunned by your reaction that she didn’t expect you to suddenly orgasm on her tongue. A loud, needy whine escaping your throat and making her own pussy throb at how much you enjoyed her. As your hot cum spilled out onto Rosaria’s face for the very first time, your heart rate had accelerated at speeds that you didn’t even feel when being chased by Rosaria previously. 

You felt your body go numb from the aftershocks of your very first orgasm, the dreamy world around you starting to fade. 

“Good girl…” Rosaria said under her breath, kissing your clit for the last time, before you closed your eyes. “Next time wear some sexier panties the next time you go to sleep.”

You blacked out after that. 

You jolted from your bed, covered in sweat and with your heart hammering in your chest. Your breathing was unsteady and you felt like you had gone on the wildest roller coaster in your life, the adrenaline still coursing through your bloodstream from the aftermath of what occurred in your dream. 

The cracks of daylight began to seep in through your bedroom window, telling you that you had slept through the night and that it was now morning. The world of reality suddenly didn’t feel too real to you anymore, and you wondered if the dream was a genuine dream that you had, or if it really was the ghost of Rosaria haunting your nightmares again. 

A dull ache made itself known to you between your legs, causing you to wince. As you moved the blankets off of you, you were shocked to see the absolute mess you had left on your sheets; a giant wet spot which formed at where your pussy was, and tatters of your shorts and underwear left scattered around your bed. However, what shocked you most of all, was the small line of red that you saw on the outer part of your thigh, a small trickle of blood that didn’t hurt, nor did you feel when you went back to reality. 

If the mark was anything to go by, you knew that these dreams were definitely real, and that Rosaria was real too if this was the case. You gently traced the red mark with your finger, but didn’t make an effort to clean it up, too distracted with your own thoughts to think straight. 

Slowly, you slide out of bed, but not before looking at the can of a half drunken energy drink sitting on your nightstand. 

You looked at the drink, sloshed the liquid inside it to see how much was in it, before throwing it out in the bin. 

[shy-writer-999]

are there any character you think would get hot and bothered by a good spar with their s/o? how do you think think they’d act once they get worked up in that manner?

hmmmm... Zoro and Shanks are my answers right off the bat, but I could also imagine this with Ace, Kid, Smoker, and Law (if he felt like humoring someone enough to spar with them). I’ll sketch out some (nsfw) thoughts w/Zoro and Shanks—see below the cut! No anatomy mentioned, but for Shanks’s portion there are pet names, among them, princess. also thanks for putting this in my inbox it was such a treat to think about! (✿˘ω˘)˘ε˘˶ )

Zoro (✿˵ ꒡3꒡˵)

He’s amused that anyone thinks they’d be able to match his speed enough to spar

When you get into it though, he’s surprised because he underestimated you

He didn’t expect you to be as much of a challenge as you are, and your brains work in such different ways that your next move is often unpredictable, haki aside. You keep him on his toes

What starts getting him hot and bothered is seeing you work up a sweat. Your panting and heaving breaths remind him of how you sound in bed, and it starts to make his mind wander. He observes how lithely you parry, how gorgeous you are with a flush over your cheeks

You catch him off guard because his mind is elsewhere, and when he blocks your sword, your faces are inches away from each other

The intense and serious eye contact you hold with him when the sparring sessions get heated starts to get him really worked up

Zoro wants to finish the sparring session, but he wants to fuck you too—he does a mental balancing act about which of these should come first

He blocks one of your lunges so forcefully that your sword goes flying, and then he chucks his off to the side and basically pounces on you (you saw that coming a mile away); he’d want to make out and get handsy, then he’d pick you up and fuck you senseless

Zoro is partial to grunting and groaning out whatever comes to mind when he’s buried deep inside, along the lines of “it's so fuckin’ hot when you fight me," "you're so pretty when you're violent, I might just let you land a blow next time," and “I wanted to fuck you the whole time”, etc.

Shanks (´ ᴗ｀✿)

Shanks loooveeessss any chance he can get to spar with you

Seeing how good you are at it turns him on

He just loves someone who is good at what they do and who throws themselves into it passionately

When you spar, you’re both having a great time—you exchange banter, smiles, cheeky side-eyes, and some mild trash talking

Even with the banter, he’ll sweet talk you the whole time

His hair looks so good as he dodges and parries your advances. He’ll push his hair back from his face with one hand as he effortlessly dodges your blows

When you almost get him, he says something like “What, can’t you try any harder than that, angel?” or “almost had me that time, princess”

Shanks pays special attention to how your eyes flutter, how you’re perspiring, how your chest moves up and down with each breath—he admires your beauty and gets so distracted that you actually manage to pin him. Your sword is at his throat, and he breaks out into a grin. He'd say something like "you look even more gorgeous than usual holding a sword at my throat, baby" or "shit, sweetheart, be careful where you put that thing”

When you’re both tuckered out and sheathe your swords, he’ll pull you tight by your waist unexpectedly, or he’ll grab a handful of your ass as you walk away.

“Done already, sugar? Don’t you want to continue our session inside?”

He’ll pull you into sloppy kisses and when he’s feeling spicy, he’ll either carry you off to the shower or just fuck you right there on the spot. While his cock is in you, he'd call you sweet names and praise you. He'd be a fan of telling you that he's "never seen someone so gorgeous wield a sword" and that "you got me so worked up, it's only fair that I return the favor"

[novaursa]

hello luv

what about aegon x twin sister

they were always very very closed, like you can always see them together, but she had a very strong character and she let no one decide for her.

And because of that Otto is afraid to married her to aegon so he choose Helena to married him. But Aegon still had an affair with her, he can stop thinking about her.

And when he became king he decided to take her as his second wife, they have a child together and he was with the twins during the night of the attack and aegon is really scared for him (he loved more their child coz he was made with love)

The Fires We Make

- Summary: When they decreed to marry Aegon to Helaena, he decided to do what his namesake had done. Aegon takes you as his second wife.

- Paring: twin!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are now closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 400+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I had to bend your plot in the end a little, to make Aegon's reaction more believable.

You sit beside your brother Aegon, your twin, your other half. The bond you share is a rare and precious thing, a connection forged in the cradle, strengthened over the years by whispers in the dark, stolen moments, and a fierce loyalty that burns brighter than any dragon's flame. It’s a bond that only the two of you truly understand, one that could lead to either great strength or devastating ruin. You’ve always known that, and so has Aegon.

But now, that bond is threatened.

The candlelight flickers across the faces of your mother, Queen Alicent, and your grandsire, Otto Hightower, their expressions shadowed and grim. The air in the room is thick with dread, almost visible force that presses against your chest, making it difficult to breathe. You can feel Aegon’s anger radiating beside you, a barely contained storm.

“Aegon,” Otto begins, his voice calm and measured, the tone of a man who is used to being obeyed. “You must understand that our family’s future is at stake. The stability of the realm depends on it.”

Aegon’s jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists on the arms of his chair. He doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does, his voice is low, dangerous. “What I understand, Grandsire, is that you think I should be controlled. You think we should be controlled.”

Otto’s gaze is steely, unyielding. “You are the future King, Aegon. Your duty is to the realm, not to your… whims.”

“Whims?” Aegon spits the word out like it’s poison. “Is that what you call it? Whims? You’re speaking about her, about my sister—your granddaughter.”

Alicent shifts in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She looks at Aegon with a mixture of sorrow and concern, her voice soft but firm when she finally speaks. “Aegon, this is not just about what you want. It’s about what’s best for the realm. Your match with your sister—” she hesitates, glancing at Otto, then continues, “it could be… dangerous. You both have strong wills, too strong perhaps. It could lead to conflict, to instability.”

You feel a flare of anger at her words, but you remain silent, watching as Aegon struggles to keep his emotions in check. He’s always been quick to anger, but this is different. This is deeper, more personal. You can see it in his eyes, in the way his body tenses as if ready to spring into action, to defend you, to defend both of you against this assault on your bond.

“And what do you propose instead?” Aegon’s voice is cold now, icy. “That I marry Helaena? Is that it?”

Otto nods, as if this is the most reasonable suggestion in the world. “Helaena is gentle, pliable. She will be a good queen, one who will support you, not challenge you. The realm needs a steady hand, not… not the fire that the two of you could unleash.”

Aegon laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Steady? You mean obedient, don’t you, Grandsire? You want someone who will nod and smile and do as they’re told. Someone who won’t question you.”

“Aegon—” Alicent starts, but Aegon cuts her off.

“No, Mother, don’t. You know as well as I do that this isn’t about what’s best for the realm. It’s about control. He’s afraid of us, of what we could be together.” He turns to Otto, his eyes blazing. “You’re afraid that we’ll be too strong, that we’ll burn too brightly for you to handle. But you should remember, Grandsire, that dragons are not meant to be tamed.”

Otto’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing. “This is not a matter of fear, Aegon. It’s a matter of duty. You have a responsibility to the realm, to the Targaryen line. Your sister—” his gaze flicks to you, and you feel the weight of it, the judgment, “—is too much like you. The two of you together could bring about more chaos than order. You must think beyond yourself, beyond your desires.”

Aegon stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. His fists are trembling, his entire body vibrating with barely suppressed rage. “My desires? My desires have always been for the good of our House, of our family. And she—” he points to you, his voice shaking with emotion, “—she is my family. My twin. My other half. I will not abandon her for some twisted idea of duty.”

Alicent rises, reaching out to him, but he steps back, shaking his head. “Aegon, please, listen to reason.”

“Reason?” he scoffs. “Reason has nothing to do with this. This is about power. You want me to be a puppet, to marry Helaena and play the part of the obedient son. But I am not a puppet, and I will not be controlled.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of your brother as he struggles to regain control of his emotions. You know him well enough to see the storm within him, the fierce protectiveness, the rage at being cornered.

Finally, Otto speaks, his voice cold and authoritative. “You are the heir to the Iron Throne, Aegon. You will do what is necessary for the good of the realm. You will marry Helaena.”

Aegon looks at him, and for a moment, you think he might lash out, might do something reckless. But instead, he turns to you, his eyes softening, filled with a deep, unspoken promise. “This isn’t over,” he says quietly, and you know he means it. Whatever comes next, he will not let you be cast aside so easily.

Without another word, Aegon strides out of the room, leaving you alone with the weight of what has just transpired. Otto and Alicent exchange a glance, and you can see the concern in your mother’s eyes, the worry for what this decision will mean for her son, for you, for the future of the realm.

But in your heart, you know that this is only the beginning. The bond you share with Aegon is not something that can be easily broken, not by Otto’s machinations or anyone else’s. It is a bond forged in fire, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that fire cannot be so easily extinguished.

The heavy curtains are drawn tightly around the grand bed, casting the room in a shadowed twilight, the only light a flickering candle that dances with the whispers of a secret not meant for the world beyond these walls. The bedchamber is filled with the scent of smoldering incense and the unmistakable, intoxicating warmth of shared passion. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, mingling with the ragged exhalations of the man above you, his silver hair brushing against your face as he moves, each movement a promise, a vow sealed with a thousand unspoken words.

Aegon’s hands are on your hips, strong and possessive, as though he’s terrified you might slip away from him if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. His touch burns with a desperate need, a fire that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how many years or how many vows have tried to snuff it out. His eyes, fierce and wild, bore into yours, and in them, you see the same desire, the same hunger that has haunted both of you since childhood.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your shared history, with the love and pain and longing that have only grown stronger with time.

He leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve always been mine. And I swear by the gods, by the dragons, by our blood, that I will make you my wife as is my right, as Aegon the Conqueror did before me.”

The intensity in his gaze leaves no room for doubt. He is not making an idle promise, nor is he indulging in a lover’s fantasy. This is Aegon’s truth, the truth of a man who has been denied the one thing he’s always desired above all else. His marriage to Helaena, while dutiful and necessary, has never filled the void that you alone could fill. You are his other half, his twin flame, the only one who truly understands the depths of his soul.

But the world outside this room is not so easily swayed by passion or promises made in the dark. You know this, and so does he. The weight of your shared secret presses down on you, even in this moment of intimacy, but you cannot deny the longing in your heart, the yearning for a life where you can stand by his side, not as a hidden lover, but as his equal, his queen.

“Aegon,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to caress his face, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the softness of his lips. “What you’re speaking of… it could bring the realm to its knees.”

He closes his eyes briefly, as if pained by your words, but when he opens them again, they are filled with a fierce determination. “The realm has always been at war with itself, with its rulers, with its desires. We were born to the blood of the dragon, to forge our own path, to take what is ours. You are mine, and I will not let anyone take you from me, not Grandsire, not Mother, not even the gods.”

His words, spoken with such conviction, send a shiver down your spine. Aegon has always been passionate, but there is something different in him now, something that has hardened over the years, a resolve that has been tempered by the constant battles he’s fought—not just against his enemies, but against his own heart.

“And what of Helaena?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. It’s a question that has lingered between you for years, a question that neither of you has dared to voice until now.

Aegon’s expression softens, a brief flicker of guilt passing through his eyes. “Helaena is… kind, gentle. She does not deserve this. But she also knows, deep down, that my heart has never truly belonged to her. She knows that I am bound to you in a way that cannot be undone.”

There’s a sadness in his voice, a recognition of the pain that his actions have caused, but also an acceptance that this is the way things were always meant to be. The Targaryen blood runs strong in both of you, and with it comes a fierce, unyielding love that will not be denied, no matter the cost.

“And what will you do?” you ask, your voice steady, even as your heart pounds in your chest.

Aegon’s gaze locks onto yours, his hand sliding up your body to cradle your face. “I will take you as my second wife, as Aegon the Conqueror did with Rhaenys and Visenya. One wife for love another for duty. It is my right, our right. The realm will have to accept it, or they will face the wrath of the dragons.”

His words are a declaration, a promise forged in the heat of passion and the blood of the dragon. There is no turning back now, no more hiding in the shadows. The path before you is fraught with danger, but it is also the only path that feels true, that feels right.

“And you, my love?” he asks, his voice softening as he searches your eyes for the answer that only you can give. “Will you stand by my side, as my wife, my queen? Will you help me claim what is ours?”

For a moment, the world outside ceases to exist. There is only Aegon, the man you’ve loved your entire life, the man who would move heaven and earth to be with you. You see the same fierce love in his eyes that you feel in your own heart, and you know that there is only one answer you can give.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice steady, filled with the same fire that burns in him. “Yes, Aegon. I will stand by your side. I will be your wife, your queen.”

Aegon’s lips crash down onto yours in a kiss filled with all the passion, all the longing, all the love that you’ve shared over the years. It is a kiss that seals your fate, that binds you to him in a way that no one can break.

The night had fallen thick and oppressive over King’s Landing, a dark shroud that seemed to suffocate the very air in the Red Keep. The corridors were eerily silent, save for the distant echoes of footsteps and the murmurs of a court forever on edge. You had been in your chambers, cradling little Maelor in your arms, his soft breaths a balm to your weary soul. It was a rare moment of peace, a fleeting respite from the storm that raged outside these walls and within your hearts.

But peace is always short-lived in the house of the dragon.

The sound of rushed footsteps reached your ears first, followed by the unmistakable clang of armor and the urgent whispers of the guards. Your heart skipped a beat, dread curling in your stomach as you clutched Maelor closer, his tiny body warm against you. Aegon burst into the room, his face pale and eyes wild with fear. He was breathing heavily, the effort of his desperate sprint evident, but it was the terror in his eyes that froze the blood in your veins.

"Aegon," you whispered, your voice trembling as you rose to meet him, Maelor still safely in your arms. "What has happened?"

Aegon barely seemed to hear you as he crossed the room in three long strides, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch frantic and trembling. "Are you hurt? Is he—?" His voice cracked, the fear so palpable it was like a living thing between you.

"We are safe," you assured him, though your own voice shook as you said it. "But, Aegon, what—?"

Before you could finish, the door to the nursery burst open, and Alicent’s voice cut through the air, a raw, broken sound that sent chills down your spine. “No… no… gods, no!”

Aegon’s head snapped towards the sound, his grip on you tightening as if he needed the contact to anchor himself, to remind himself that you and Maelor were still here, still alive. But you could see the fear, the terrible fear in his eyes as he pulled away from you and rushed towards the door that led to the twins' nursery.

You followed closely behind, Maelor held tightly against your chest as you entered the adjoining room, the sight that greeted you nearly making your legs give out beneath you.

The nursery was in chaos. The once serene room, filled with soft linens and gentle colors, was now a scene from a nightmare. Helaena was on the floor, her wails of grief piercing the air as she cradled the lifeless body of little Jaehaerys in her arms. Blood stained the floor, dark and stark against the pale stone, and beside her, Jaehaera was huddled, her small body shaking with silent sobs.

Aegon’s breath caught in his throat as he stumbled forward, falling to his knees beside Helaena. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch Jaehaerys, as if hoping—praying—that he would wake, that this was some horrid dream from which he could rouse.

But Jaehaerys was gone.

Your heart shattered as you watched Aegon, his face contorting in anguish, a guttural cry ripping from his chest as he gathered Jaehaerys’s small body into his arms. “No… no… my son…” His voice broke, the words choked and hoarse as he rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face.

Helaena’s sobs only grew louder, more desperate, as she clung to Aegon, her grief a mirror of his. “They made me choose,” she gasped, her voice barely audible through her sobs. “They made me choose, Aegon… I couldn’t— I didn’t—”

Aegon’s head whipped up, his eyes wild as he looked at Helaena. “Who?” he demanded, though his voice was little more than a ragged whisper. “Who did this?”

“The butcher and the rat catcher,” she whispered, the names falling from her lips like a curse. “They came for us… they wanted revenge… they… they wanted a son for a son.”

The horror of her words washed over you like a wave, leaving you cold and numb. Revenge for Lucerys. The brutal cost of this war that now claimed the innocent, who had no part in the sins of their fathers.

Aegon’s gaze shifted from Helaena to you, and you could see the mixture of guilt and relief in his eyes as they landed on Maelor, safe and unharmed in your arms. He didn’t need to speak for you to understand the war raging within him. His son, his firstborn with Helaena, had been taken from him, and yet, Maelor, your son, was still here, untouched by the horror that had unfolded in the next room.

“Aegon,” you whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you moved closer, your free hand reaching out to him. “I’m so sorry… so, so sorry…”

But what comfort could you possibly offer? There were no words to mend a heart so shattered, no solace to ease the pain of a father mourning his child.

Aegon’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the broken man beneath the crown, the weight of his grief threatening to crush him. But there was also that flicker of relief, of guilt, that he could not shake—that while one son had been lost, another still lived.

He rose slowly, still cradling Jaehaerys’s body, his movements careful, reverent. He looked down at Helaena, who was still on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself as if to hold together the pieces of her shattered soul. “Helaena,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I swear to you, I will avenge him. I will find those responsible, and they will pay. This… this I swear on his memory.”

Helaena only nodded, her eyes distant, as if she were somewhere far away, a place where her pain couldn’t reach her.

Aegon turned to you, his gaze falling on Maelor. His eyes softened, though the sorrow did not leave them, and he reached out to touch his son’s cheek, his hand trembling as he did. “He is safe,” Aegon murmured, almost to himself, as if trying to convince himself that it was true. “He is safe because of you.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked at the man you loved, the father of your child. “It should not have been this way,” you whispered. “None of this should have happened.”

“No,” Aegon agreed, his voice filled with a quiet, simmering rage. “It should not have. But it has, and now we will have to live with it.” He looked down at Jaehaerys once more, a fresh wave of grief washing over him. “But I will not let this go unanswered. They will pay for this, every single one of them.”

His words were filled with a dark promise, a vow that you knew he would keep. The realm would bleed for this, just as you had bled, just as he now bled, with his son’s blood on his hands.

Aegon turned back to you, his eyes hollow, his face etched with a pain so deep you could scarcely bear to look at it. “Keep him safe,” he said, his voice hoarse, as if the very act of speaking was too much to bear. “Keep Maelor safe, no matter what happens. I cannot lose him, too.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice firm, though your heart ached with the weight of it. “I will keep him safe, Aegon. No matter what.”

He nodded, though it was a hollow gesture, and then he turned back to Helaena, who was still on the floor, lost in her grief. He knelt beside her, his free hand reaching out to touch her arm, and you saw in his eyes the same determination that had driven him through every battle, every hardship.

But this battle was different. This was a war of the heart, and it was a war that had already claimed too much.

You stood there, holding Maelor close, as Aegon mourned his son, and in that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same. The dragons had awakened, and the fires of vengeance would burn until the realm was ash.

[tarotwithdanise]

YOUR PERSON LOVE FOR YOU

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

1 - 2 - 3

reader's note: this is NOT a depth reading so please bear with it.

PILE ONE

You are their dream, their angel. they can love you forever despite the hurt you may give to them. They love your gazes at them, those innocent eyes that if you fall deeper they are able to witness the sea of doubts and worries you have been through in life. They consider themselves lucky to meet someone like you in this lifetime. They have an intense romantic love and passion for you that may become a crime, if there's a law about it. You make them feel excited each day you are their motivation, they think they've found the one. Someone who is loaded with talent and perfection. They don't want to rush rather they want to enjoy every minute with you.

extra messages : oceans, a distant star, crush, 21, gemini, sagittarius, j and b.

PILE TWO

(reader's pov: bruhhh! i was currently sipping a coffee while doing tarot for this reading and then the song "espresso" popped up next on my spotify playlist.)

Just like a coffee, you're gonna make this person's heart rate going with your presence. They also find it attractive how hot a human you are. They love how witty and random your humor is, you always leave a remarkable expression to them. If this person is a biker then you are their backpack perhaps there's a little bit of sensual attraction between you and them. They love your energizing and captivating smile. They may often find themselves addcticted to you as a caffeine can to a person. You are their escape from their challenging days.

extra messages: perfect strangers, coffee shop, biker, yellow, black, childhood, different personality and character, ring, aries, taurus, pisces, D, G and N.

PILE THREE

They think you are as sweet as sugar, starting from your personality down to your appearance. They paint a perfect picture of you and them walking down the aisle, the beautiful face of yours smiling at them that never fades to their imagination. They think God sent you from above and give someone like you to them that seems to come from a well known museum and has an expensive value. This person thinks you and them have an unbreakable soul connection and they're completely enamored with you.

extra messages: angel and devil behavior, bouquet, park, guitar, 1221, online love, scorpio, libra, aries, virgo and sagittarius, K, F, R and E.

© tarotwithdanise ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work with or without my explicit permission.