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mysicklove · 10 months ago

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Summary: Yuuji has a bad day, and all he wants is for you to make him feel better <3

Warnings: cheesy/sappy writing!!!!!! like so cheesy. I can't help it. he makes me sick. slight dom/sub dynamics (reader being dominant), suggestiveness/talks about sex, kneeling + praise heavy, aged up! character! gn! reader

Wc: 2.0k

A/N: i saw this in my drafts and just wanted to finish it up before starting my other wips. i am lovesick with him, do not mind me. i am actually embarrassed at how sappy this is

art here! by @mpsql - super super super cute!!! <333

Yuuji was exhausted. It was just one of those days that seemed to drag out – the watch Nanami gifted to him seemed to tick as slowly as possible. Nothing was going his way, and although he never made a fuss to the people around him, he still was frustrated by all the events.

But now he was home – he didn’t have to worry about those things anymore. He could crawl up to you, and with the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair, he was bound to be left thoughtless. Or maybe you would touch him tonight – he has been good, so he doesn’t suppose that it was out of the question.

He takes a deep breath, snapping out of his thoughts – getting a hard-on would not be appropriate right now. The man opens the door to your shared apartment, mumbling out a greeting and scanning the room. He calls your name, setting down his bag and walking toward the living room. You pop your head out of the office, wearing your blue light glasses. “Ah! Welcome home, love,” you call, smiling at your boyfriend, “I am doing some work right now, but dinner is in the oven. You are welcome to eat it without me. Gotta finish this!”

He doesn’t say anything, but a frown pulls at his lips. Suddenly, he feels his previous emotions resurfacing just from the sound of your voice and the familiar warmth of his home. Itadori pads over to you, ignoring the wafting smell in the kitchen until he stands directly next to you. Then, he grabs the back of your rolling chair and flips it away from the screen. You blink at him in surprise, being torn away from your work. “Yuuji?”

His lip wobbles at the concern in your voice, and the boy immediately falls to his knees in front of you without a word. He presses his head against your clothed thigh and wraps his arms around your waist. “Just….bad day.”

You frown at him and place your hand on his head, gently petting him. “Poor thing,” you coo, and his whole body shivers, but he nods into your leg. “Do you want me to do anything for you?”

He thinks back to his previous idea: sex. Something that he was opposed to, but now, in the moment, he didn’t crave it as much. He wants your touch – he always does, loving physical affection more than anything, but maybe tonight, it didn’t need to go below the waist. He was content just being close to you.

“No. But, can I stay here?” Itadori asks, voice soft and barely above a whisper. He was content in this position, finding that it strangely made him feel small, and your words made him feel safe.

You cock your head to the side, slightly confused. “Kneeling? You might get uncomfortable.”

He blinks at you, shaking his head stubbornly. “No, ‘s fine. Like it down here.”

You grin at him, now using both hands to rub through his hair and gently massage his scalp just the way he likes it. “Does it have anything to do with what you are facing?”

He eyes at your crotch for a split second and then looks up at you, a small pout on his face. “‘I’m not some perv, you know.”

“Just teasing you,” you sigh, ruffling his hair slightly. “Anyways, I have to do work, Yuuji. I can’t keep petting you.”

He yawns into your leg and sighs. “It’s alright. I’ll sit and be quiet.” Then, he closes his eyes, cheeks pressed against your thigh, content.

You face back toward the computer screen, not paying attention to the boy who seemed to be pressing himself impossibly closer to you. Ten minutes go by, and you are more than surprised to not hear Yuuji’s usual light snore. He tended to fall asleep pretty easily, so it was shocking that he was awake right now – you dont comment on it, letting him rest his eyes.

But his silence doesn’t last much longer than that. His dark eyes peer open, and he glances up at you. His voice is soft, as if afraid that you will be upset at him for distracting you. “Can you do the thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Where you uh…compliment me.”

Your eyes flicker to him, and you notice the tips of his ears turning a shade of red. “You want me to praise you?”

He readjusts himself on the floor nervously, but nods his head. A hand returns back to his head and the boy seems to melt at the touch, eyes already fluttering shut again. “Well, I suppose it’s not hard to. I could list about fifty things I love about you without even thinking about it.”

He gulps, face now a bright shade of pink, and sighs into your pants. “Me too.”

You trace the tips of his ears with your pointer finger. “Cute,” you say, smiling at him as your computer screen darkens with its lack of use. “Hmmm. Where do I begin?” you ask yourself rhetorically, and Yuuji waits in silence, trying not to buzz with excitement.

He readjusts himself on the floor, pressing more of his muscled frame on top of your lap. It reminded you of a great dane trying to be a lap dog, because they believed they were the size of a chihuahua. It’s cute, and you didn’t mind his extra weight. “Well, I guess I could start with how kind you are, but that sort of a no-brainer.”

“’s not,” Yuuji mumbles into your pants.

“No? I disagree; everyone knows Yuuji Itadori is kind. It’s been like that since high school and probably before that. The boy who makes everyone feel comfortable. Who radiates warmth, light, and happiness. Y’know, you could easily compare to the sun.”

Yuuji squirms in your lap, making a small noise of complaint. “Now you are just exaggerating.”

You beam at him, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” Your fingers ghost over his lips before he tries to argue again, and he remains quiet at the gentle warning. “I think you are very pretty Yuuji.”

You use both of your hands to cup his face, rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks that were warming up steadily. He wants to complain about the word choice, but he finds himself remaining silent, finding the compliment strangely endearing to him. He has been called handsome before, hot even, but pretty was not common. You preferred to call him cute most of the time, which he has grown to love even if most men didn’t.

You lean down and press your lips to his hair. “Your hair is pretty, soft, and easy to pet.” Then you move down to his eyes, kissing at the scars beneath them and his eyelids when he instinctively shuts them. “Your eyes are pretty, a warm shade of brown, or maybe an amber color?”

He squints at you, one eye remaining shut from where your thumb pads just below it. “I just call them brown.”

You pout at him. “Aw, you're no fun! They are much more than brown, and you know it. Now, your nose.” You peck the tip of it, and he blinks at you, waiting for what you are to say next. “Hmm, I guess I don’t have too much to say about it, but it is really cute.”

“I like your nose a lot,” Yuuji interrupts, and you bark a small laugh. In return for his remark, you teasingly press your thumbs into the corner of his eyes when you catch him staring at it. He shuts his eyes with a whine, trying to pull away.

You breathe out another laugh and then move your fingers again to trace his skin, peppering it with small kisses. You go back to complimenting him. “The prettiest skin, with the cutest scar beneath your eyes.”

“Dont remind me,” Yuuji grumbles, thinking about his time with the curse. He was exorcised a while ago, and Yuuji can safely say that he enjoys being able to think for himself once again. Plus, the flirty comments about you from the king did not sit well with the boy.

He shifts on the floor again from the thought, and you frown. “Are you sure you don't want me to grab you a pillow for your knees?”

When you try to stand up, he simply presses more of his weight onto you – successfully pinning you to the chair. He looks at you with a small pout, “I said I was fine. I was comfortable in that position!”

You pinch his cheeks with a teasing smile, ignoring his small whines of protest. “So whiny. I just want to make sure you dont get bruises on your knees. Could lead to some misunderstanding, hm?”

He looks away, rolling his eyes but smiling again. “You have a dirty mind.”

“Y’know, I can’t help it when it comes to you.”

His cheeks flush again, and he groans into your pants. “Please dont tease me. You know how easy it is for me to get turned on.”

Your nails drag over his neck, and he does a full-body shiver, while he hides his face in your leg again. But you continue running your fingers over his shoulder and down his back. Then, you tilt his chin up to look at you. “Dont hide. I am not done praising you.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji mumbles, trying not to gulp at the way your thumb drags over his lips. He keeps looking away, but also leaning closer in hopes that you may kiss him. It was so easy to in this position.

“Did I compliment your whole face already?” you ask, knowing the answer. You have kissed and praised every facial feature except for his lips.

He was waiting for you to finally kiss him for real. Your lips grazed every part of his face except his own. So, he shakes his head and blinks at you. “Uh, you haven’t said anything about my lips yet…”

You cock your head to the side, frowning at him. “No? I am sure I did.”

You were teasing him – he knew it. You knew that he wanted you to kiss him, and you were being purposefully cruel. But, Yuuji was known to getting straight to the point. “Please kiss me now.”

A laugh falls from your lips at the whiny demand, and you shake your head with a grin. But, you listen and lean forward and peck at his lips. Yuuji pouts at you, furrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head. It wasn’t the type of kiss he wanted, and the both of you knew that. “You were so nice earlier. Why are you teasing me now?”

Your thumbs rub at his eyebrows, smoothing them out until he relaxes them. “You make it too easy.”

“Can you kiss me for real?” Your thumb continues to rub at his lip, and you stare at it, waiting. Yuujis face was flushed from embarrassment, and his tongue runs over his teeth before he says, “Please?”

And with that, you smile at him and gently press your mouth to his. This time you dont pull away and instead let Yuuji lead the pace. He, like you expected, nearly pounces on you, tilting his head up and placing his hands on the back of your hair. He makes a small moaning noise and pushes himself closer to you until his knees hover above the floor so that he can reach your mouth more easily.

You are the first to pull away, and he tries to follow you, chasing the trail of saliva connecting you two. Pants leave your mouth, and you laugh breathlessly as he obviously waits to kiss you again. You lean back in your chair, and to this, Yuuji leans forward, now resting his arms on either side of your legs.

The action makes you raise your eyebrows, and you gently squeeze his cheeks together, shaking your head. “You are quite spoiled.”

He frowns at you, upset that you dont want to kiss some more. “Not spoiled enough,” he mumbles, and at this, you laugh while he continues to pout, even when you let go of his cheeks.

Your hand goes back to tracing the skin on his face, and Yuuji leans into the touch like he is some sort of cat. “Is there anywhere else you want me to praise, Yuuji?”

The comment was meant to be lighthearted, hoping that you could compliment something he was insecure about. But, the boy, in return, pauses for a moment and looks at you with wide puppy dog-like eyes before slowly dragging his hands down his body until his hands touch his crotch. He gulps and says, “I think, um–I think here needs some attention too…”

Your lips curl up in a grin. “Aw, I thought you said you weren’t a pervert?”

He thinks back to what you said earlier and lets out a small laugh. “Y’know, I can’t help it when it comes to you.”

Your lips are back onto his in an instant. It always ends up like this: Yuuji says that maybe he didn’t need sex tonight, but somehow, one way or another, the two of you end up in bed together. He didn’t mind it one bit.

#mello.writes #yuuji x reader #gn reader #x reader #reader insert #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji fluff #yuji fluff #yuji itadori fluff #yuuji itadori fluff #jjk fluff

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cyberesc · 3 months ago

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THE BOY IS MINE. (PART 2)

pairing: Prohero!Bakugo x Prohero!Reader

rating: slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader needs a break tbh

note: I forgot where I was originally going with this story when I wrote this a few years ago since part 2 was only 70% done in my drafts, hope this was a good read ! it was fun writing dialogue for Hitomi, might bring her back for a new series🤐

part 1

You don't know when it happened, but somehow, your very existence seemed to aggravate Hitomi, for reasons you couldn’t understand. Your coworkers noticed it, even your assistant made a passing comment, but they urged you not to take it personally. Still, the cold stares, the subtle digs, and the way she tried to one-up you at every turn, it all started to wear on you. What you didn’t know was that her attitude stemmed from the time she spent in one-on-one training sessions with Bakugo.

The list of things Bakugo is good at is so long it would be stupid to write about, so it was obvious that he would be the perfect mentor. His sharp eyes caught every mistake, his feedback was brutally honest, and his results were undeniable. Hitomi knew this and respected him for it. But there was something else that ate away at her during those sessions, something that made her resentment towards you grow stronger with each passing day.

It started with the small comments Bakugo would make, things he probably didn’t even realize he was saying out loud. “Y/N always nails this move on the first try,” he muttered once, when Hitomi fumbled during a drill. Or, “You’re gripping too tight—Y/N knows how to balance strength with control.” At first, Hitomi tried to brush it off, telling herself that Bakugo was just using you as an example to push her to do better, after all you were in the top rankings of Japan for a reason. But the more it happened, the more it grated on her. It wasn't just that you were good—it was that you seemed to be the benchmark against which she was measured.

The worst part, the part that truly made her snap, came during a routine training session. Hitomi was testing the mobility of her suit after some recent upgrades, moving through the drills with the precision she had honed under Bakugo’s guidance. He observed her as usual, his sharp eyes catching every nuance, every mistake.

But then, as she finished a complex maneuver, he made a comment that made her blood run cold. “You’ve got the power, but you’re hesitating,” Bakugo remarked, his tone almost distracted. “They would’ve read that shift in a heartbeat, made the move smoother.” he continued under his breath.

He didn’t even look at her when he said it. The reference was subtle, but Hitomi knew exactly who he meant. He talked about you enough for her to pick up on the unspoken comparison.

It wasn’t just that he compared her to you; it was that, in his mind, you were the standard she could never reach. The unattainable.

In that moment, it solidified for Hitomi: no matter how hard she trained, no matter how perfectly she executed every move, she would always be second to you in his eyes. His words echoed in her head, taunting her, and she knew then that she wasn’t just competing with a fellow hero. She was battling against the idealized version of you that Bakugo seemed to hold onto, an impossible shadow she could never escape.

It wasn’t rare for Dynamight to be paired with lower-ranking heroes on missions or patrols, but you happened to be his frequent partner. You weren’t sure if it was because your quirks worked well together or because you could read each other in any situation. Little did you know, Bakugo’s unconscious behavior around you was something even his assistant had picked up on. He didn’t lose his temper as easily when you were around, and on the rare occasions he did, it was never directed at you. He even made subtle nods at reporters before blasting off with you by his side. Almost every mission you collaborated on ended successfully, a fact that wasn’t lost on the agency.

Hitomi had noticed, too. She watched the way Bakugo seemed more grounded when you were around, how he sometimes deferred to your judgment without argument, and how he never seemed to mind your presence. That’s what made her resentment so sharp—it was one thing to compete with you in training, but another thing entirely to see that you were already a fixture in the life of the hero she admired—the man she wanted.

Your first mistake, if you could even call it that, was during a debriefing session. Hitomi had suggested a strategy, one that was sound but flawed in a way only experience could detect. You pointed it out, offering a correction in a calm, professional manner. It wasn’t meant to be demeaning, but to Hitomi, it felt like a public embarrassment. And Bakugo, instead of defending her, nodded in agreement with you, reinforcing the gap between her and you in his mind.

Another time, in the break room, she overheard a conversation where Bakugo was praising your tactical instincts. He never did that for anyone else, not even her—the one he had personally trained to analyze and fight just like him. She had been mentored by the best, molded to think and act with the same precision and intensity that Bakugo himself embodied. So, it came as a shock when she realized that everything she did, using everything she had learned from him, wasn’t good enough to hold his attention.

From then on, every interaction with you became a painful reminder that you held a place in Bakugo’s life that she couldn’t touch. So, she decided to carve out her own space, to prove that she could be the one who stood by his side.

The tension between you two only grew, feeding off these moments until it became a palpable force within the agency. And as much as you tried to stay above it, to focus on your work and ignore the subtle hostility, it was impossible not to notice. The whispers of office gossip, the way Hitomi would shoot you a look whenever Bakugo acknowledged you in a meeting—it all added up, and it all pointed to the truth you were too kind to see: Hitomi wasn’t just competing with you. She wanted to take everything you had, including Bakugo.

Hitomi’s resentment towards you was not something she could easily suppress. It wasn’t just about competition; it was personal. And when she realized that Bakugo saw you as a benchmark she could never reach, it drove her to desperate measures. If she couldn’t directly compete with you on the field, she would try to outmaneuver you in the court of public opinion.

So she set up a rumor to shift the narrative. It began subtly, with carefully orchestrated moments designed to seed the idea in the media. She made sure to be seen with Bakugo frequently, arranging coincidental encounters that were just intimate enough to spark curiosity. It was all carefully planned to catch the eye of the paparazzi.

The crucial moment came when Hitomi arranged for an image to be captured. A staged photo, one that would make it look like she and Bakugo were involved in a romantic relationship. The key was using a lookalike, someone who bore a striking resemblance to Bakugo, someone subtle enough to create a convincing illusion without risking his actual reputation.

The resulting photo, taken from a distance, showed Bakugo— or allegedly Bakugo—with his arm around Hitomi’s shoulders.

She meticulously chose the location of Bakugo’s favorite konbini, a spot he frequented to fuel up between patrols. This particular konbini was a well-kept secret among a few close friends and had become a sort of personal refuge for him. By selecting this location, Hitomi aimed to make a statement—a pointed message aimed directly at you.

The magazine’s social media team spread the image far and wide, igniting a storm of speculation and gossip. Fans and media alike began buzzing about the potential romance, analyzing every interaction between Bakugo and Hitomi for signs of affection. The craze was relentless, and soon, it became a trending topic. Headlines everywhere echoed the same speculation, and Hitomi basked in the growing buzz.

It was a clever ploy. With Bakugo’s name and your connection to him constantly in the limelight, it created a smokescreen that obscured the truth and shifted public perception. By the time you and Bakugo were confronted with the rumor, it had already gained enough traction to cause serious damage. Hitomi had successfully planted the seeds of doubt, making it seem like she was the one who had captured Bakugo’s attention.

Hitomi’s actions were not just about rivalry. She was trying to erase your presence and position herself as the ideal partner, hoping that by winning over those around Bakugo and creating a convincing narrative, she could finally gain what she felt she deserved.

Hitomi’s plan was working, and you were now caught in the crossfire of a fight you hadn’t even realized you were part of. And that’s where it all began to unravel.

After your checkup at the agency’s infirmary, the reality of your situation set in. The injury was severe enough that your boss decided to put you on desk duty until you were fully recovered. It was frustrating, but you had little choice but to comply.

Today, you found yourself seated at your desk, sifting through paperwork and mission reports. The mundane tasks offered a welcome distraction from your physical pain, but it did little to quell the storm of emotions that raged within you.

The agency’s hallways bustled with activity, heroes and sidekicks moving about in their usual hurried fashion. You were doing your best to stay out of everyone’s way, trying to blend into the background. You were engrossed in organizing a stack of reports when there was a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you called, not looking up.

“Hey, Y/N!” The cheery, singsong voice of Hitomi reached your ears, and you tensed. You had hoped to avoid any direct communication with her, but it seemed luck wasn’t on your side today.

You looked up slowly, forcing a neutral expression onto your face as she approached you with a case file under one arm and a newspaper clutched in her hand. Her gaze flicked over to you with an expression that was anything but friendly.

“How can I help you?,” you said curtly, not in the mood for small talk.

“I thought you might want to see this,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. She tossed the newspaper onto your desk and placed the case file beside it.

Looking down, your heart sank as you read the newspaper’s headline: “ANOTHER HERO BITES THE DUST! PRO HERO Y/H/N CAN’T HANDLE THE HEAT!” The article was filled with damning criticisms and snide remarks, painting you in a poor light due to your mess up.

Hitomi smirked as she noticed your reaction. “You know how it is. The media loves to stir up drama. Thought you’d appreciate the heads-up.” She gave you a patronizing wave and turned to leave.

The moment she was gone, you let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the newspaper and crumpling it in your hands. With a grimace, you tossed it into the trash can, trying to ignore the sting of humiliation that the article left behind.

It had been a week since the billboard incident, and despite your best efforts to avoid Bakugo, it was inevitable that you would cross paths eventually. You had spent those days focusing on your hero work, throwing yourself into your duties with an intensity that left you exhausted by the end of each day. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the heavy weight in your chest.

Boring days of recovery were soon over. The bandages were finally coming off, and you were able to inspect your hero suit in preparation for your first patrol since the incident. The repairs were almost complete, and you hoped that getting back to work would help distract you from the recent turmoil.

As you were adjusting your suit in the testing room, you heard the door swing open. Hitomi walked in with her repaired support gear, her humming coming to a halt at the sight of you.

“Hey Y/N!” She greeted

You nodded in greeting, quickly attaching the support items to your suit to avoid a conversation.

She didn’t seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm. “I saw you around the other day but didn’t get a chance to chat. You’ve been working hard, haven’t you?” Her tone was laced with false sweetness, and you could sense the underlying hostility.

“Paperwork kept me busy,” you replied, adjusting the straps to your suit . You really didn’t want to have this conversation.

Her smile widened, as she took a step closer. “Well, you know how it is around here. There’s always something to keep us busy,” she said, her tone light. “I guess it’s why they say people like us need someone who understands the grind, right? Someone who gets how demanding this work can be.”

You felt a subtle tension in her words, but you weren’t sure where she was going with this. “Yeah, it’s a tough job.”

Hitomi’s eyes flickered with a hint of something more as she leaned in slightly. “Exactly. That’s why it’s so important to have someone who can keep up, someone who’s… on the same level. Makes things easier, don’t you think?”

There was an undercurrent to her words that you couldn’t ignore, but you weren’t ready to engage with it. “I suppose,” you replied cautiously.

She tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “Like Bakugo, for instance. He really needs someone who understands him, someone who’s in sync with him. It’s funny how the media picks up on these things.”

Your chest tightened, the implication of her words hitting you like a ton of bricks. “The media?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Oh, you know how they are,” she said with a casual shrug. “Always speculating about who’s with who, who’s spending time together… Sometimes they’re not too far off, though.” She chuckled softly, but there was a sharp edge to the sound. “But I guess that’s just part of being in the spotlight.”

You raised a brow at her words as she continued.

“You know—people talk. They notice who spends time together, who seems… close. But anyway, it’s a shame you’ve been avoiding Bakugo. But I guess it’s for the best.”

Realizing what she was insinuating, you could feel the tension building in your chest. “What are you getting at, Hitomi?”

She maintained that infuriatingly casual tone. “Oh, nothing specific. Just making an observation. But…let’s be real, Y/N. You were never really in the running, were you?”

You bit down on your tongue, recalling the lessons from your time as a sidekick at Endeavor's agency. Back then, you were trained to handle criticism and bounce back quickly. Being a hero meant facing harsh judgment from reporters and the press, and you had learned to develop a thick skin. You’d been through the wringer as a rookie, chewed up and spit out, and had come out stronger for it. Hitomi wasn’t the first to try and get under your skin, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your resolve was solid, and you weren’t about to let her words shake you now.

Seeing that you had no reaction, she pressed on, her tone turning more aggressive. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even still around here. I mean, after that slip-up the other night, it’s a miracle you didn’t get yourself killed. Maybe you should stick to the sidelines and let the real heroes do the work.”

Something inside you snapped. The pain and frustration that had been building up for days suddenly burst free, and you opened your mouth to retort—but before you could say a word, a familiar voice cut through the air, sharp and angry.

“What the hell did you just say?”

You both turned to see Bakugo standing a few feet away, his crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at the sidekick. His presence was like a storm cloud rolling in, the atmosphere around him crackling with barely contained fury.

The sidekick’s confident demeanor faltered, her eyes widening in surprise and a hint of fear. “D-Dynamight! I was just—”

“You were just what?” Bakugo interrupted, stepping closer. “Talking shit to Y/H/N? Your superior?”

She stammered, clearly panicking. “I-I wasn’t… I didn’t mean—”

Bakugo’s expression darkened, his voice low and deadly calm. “You should know better than to run your mouth about things you don’t understand.”

The sidekick’s eyes darted between you and Bakugo, realizing she was in serious trouble. “But—”

Bakugo spoke over her, his patience completely gone. “You’ve got some nerve, talking like you know a damn thing about me or Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, watching the scene unfold in disbelief. Even after avoiding him for so long and keeping your distance, Bakugo was defending you—unrelentingly—and it was clear that he wasn’t going to let Hitomi off the hook.

“You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass since you got here. Cause of what? All the delusional crap you read in a magazine? That ends now.”

The sidekick paled. “I’m sorry, Dynamight, I didn’t mean—”

“Save it. Now get the hell out of here.” he growled, not giving her a chance to finish.

You could hear when her heart broke, she glanced at you one last time, a look you read that you’ve won. Without another word, she bolted from the room, her confidence completely shattered. The moment she was gone, Bakugo turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

You stared at him, still reeling from what had just happened. “Bakugo, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his tone gentler than before. “Don’t apologize for her being a damn idiot.”

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” you said quietly. “I just… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

You looked down at your feet, your voice barely above a whisper. “About the rumors… I thought it was true.”

Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Of course you did. Those vultures love to stir up shit for clicks. None of it was true. I’m not dating her—or anyone.”

You felt lighter from his words but quickly pushed down the hope that tried to rise in your chest. “But why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” he muttered, looking almost sheepish. “I told you before, I wasn’t interested in dating. And I figured you’d know I wouldn’t get involved in that kind of crap.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of relief and lingering hurt. “I… I didn’t want to assume anything. And after what I saw… I guess I thought I had misread everything between us.”

Bakugo’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “You didn’t misread anything. I know what I said before—But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, dumbass.”

The warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the sincerity in his eyes—it was too much. Your resolve crumbled, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I thought you were just stringing me along.”

Bakugo’s heart ached at the sight of your tears, and without hesitation, he gently pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “’m sorry… I can be a total idiot sometimes, but I’d never screw with you on purpose.”

He rested his chin on your head. “So, don’t let that bullshit get to you.”

You buried your face in his chest, letting yourself relax into his embrace. “I missed you,” you mumbled into his hero suit, the words escaping before you could stop them.

He let out a soft huff, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you close. The sound of his heart skipping a beat was unmistakable. “Missed you too, idiot. We’ll figure this out, okay? Just… don’t shut me out again.”

You nodded against his chest, feeling the weight that had been pressing down on you finally start to lift. “Okay.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Look, I’m not great at this, but… I want to try. With you.”

Your breath hitched, hope flaring back to life in your chest. “Really?”

Bakugo nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. We can take it slow, figure things out…but I’m not letting you walk away.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Katsuki.”

He smiled, his dimples appearing at the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

You leaned into him, feeling the last remnants of doubt melt away. As he pulled back, you felt his breath against your skin. His eyes flickered down to your lips, with an unspoken question hung in the air. Without overthinking it, you leaned up on your toes, closing the small distance between you.

Bakugo hesitated for the briefest of moments, then closed the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that was tender. Everything he couldn’t say with words was poured into that kiss—every frustration, every ounce of care, every unresolved feeling that had been simmering between you for so long.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned into the kiss, the warmth of his embrace grounding you. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you might slip away. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. His eyes were still half-lidded, a faint blush coloring his cheeks—a rare sight for him.

“Damn idiot,” he muttered softly, his voice laced with affection. “Should’ve kissed me sooner.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. “Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move.”

He huffed, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time, then.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one deeper, more confident—like he was staking his claim. And you kissed him back with equal fervor, knowing that, this time, you weren’t going to let anything or anyone come between you.

When you finally broke apart, you stayed in his arms, content and more at ease than you had felt in weeks. The uncertainty that had plagued you was gone. And for now, that was more than enough.

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#mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugo x reader #mha x reader angst #bnha x gn!reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x gender neutral reader #bakugo x reader angst #mha x reader hurt comfort #bakugo x reader hurt comfort #cyber.writes

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uranometrias · 6 months ago

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✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

"It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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redocity · 17 days ago

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hello, i was wondering if you could do a smut about buck?

Maybe have it where reader has been feeling really insecure lately and buck is like “i’ll fuck you until i hear that you believe it yourself” like he wants her to know that he thinks she beautiful and he wants her to see it

if you can’t that’s totally fine ❤️

PUZZLE PIECES — E.BUCKLEY

you are buck’s person, and he’ll be damned if you doubt that for even a second.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 2.9k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | 18+ MDNI, reader is insecure about herself and her relationship with buck, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv, a lot of whining and general begging, creampie, couch sex

a/n — “i’ll put this in my drafts and upload it after work” she said, *proceeds to forget it exists for four days*

sorry about the wait 😭

The thought had crept in slowly, quiet at first, but lately, it seemed to be everywhere. You would be sitting on the couch, watching Buck’s profile as he talked about his day with that familiar smile and bright eyes, and it would be there, the nagging voice that whispered, He deserves better.

At first, you brushed it off, but each time he did something thoughtful or made you laugh, the voice grew a little louder.

Buck was… everything.

He was kind and funny, dependable and brave, always there for anyone who needed him. And in your quieter moments, you’d find yourself questioning whether you could really be what he needed.

What did you have to offer someone like him?

He seemed to pick up on your change in mood quickly. A few times, you’d caught him watching you, brow furrowed, as though he could see right through you. You’d just smile, trying to reassure him that everything was fine, but he knew better.

Buck was perceptive in a way that sometimes made you feel as though he could see things about you that even you didn’t know.

One evening, as you were lost in thought, he suddenly plopped down beside you on the couch, sliding in close. “Alright, talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You blinked, startled. “About what?”

His hand found yours, fingers warm and steady as he held onto you. “About what’s got you looking like that,” he replied, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin. “You’ve been so quiet lately. And it’s not like you. Something’s wrong.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling to your lap as you tried to find the words. “It’s… nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” he asked softly, still watching you, but you could hear the worry in his voice. “Babe, come on. We both know that’s not true.”

The truth tumbled out in bits and pieces, a little awkward and halting. You told him about the doubts that had been haunting you, how you’d started feeling like maybe he’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give him more, be more. You didn’t even dare look at him while you spoke, afraid of what you might see on his face.

There was a long silence after you finished, and your heart pounded with nerves. You expected him to try to reassure you, to brush it off or tell you not to worry. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, filled with an unshakeable certainty.

“I mean this with all the love in the world,” he started, and when you glanced up, he was gazing at you with a look so fierce it almost took your breath away. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

The incredulity in his voice caught you off guard. “Buck…”

“Hey.” He cupped your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t look anywhere but into those intense, unwavering blue eyes. “There’s no one on this earth who’s better for me than you. No one.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slow and deliberate. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

You felt your throat tighten, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you know by now? I was made for you.” His voice trailed off with a kiss against your lips, soft and gentle, as though he were trying to convey what words couldn’t. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

And he wasn’t done, it seemed. He took your hands, held them to his chest as he pressed little kisses on each of your fingers, down to your palms, his lips gentle and warm against your skin. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, his hand covering yours over his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your fingers. “That’s yours. Always has been.”

His touch drifted from your hands up to your face as he kissed you again, brushing his lips across your forehead, your cheeks, even the bridge of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, a wordless way of saying everything you hadn’t been able to believe.

You tried to speak, but he stopped you with a gentle shush, moving his kisses down the column of your neck to your shoulder, as if every inch of you was something sacred that he wanted to worship.

“I’m not stopping until you believe me,” he murmured against your skin, his hands steady and sure as he wrapped them around you. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always.”

“I’m a mess,” you murmured as his lips worked to create a path of fire down your collarbone and along the swell of your breast, teasing the hemline of your v-neck with his lips. “I’m—”

“Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as his mouth found the valley between your breasts and the sensitive skin of your chest. “You’re perfect for me.”

You shivered under his touch and a gasp broke free from your lips as he moved back up to your mouth, capturing it in another kiss.

He pulled away for a moment to look you in the eye, his breathing as ragged as yours, his gaze full of pure, honest desire. “You’re it for me,” he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “There’s no one else I want. Just you. Only you.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he pressed his thumb to your lips, cutting off your words. “Don’t fight me on this,” he murmured. “Let me show you how perfect you are for me.”

With that, he crashed his lips to yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he encouraged you back against the couch. His hands were everywhere, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pushed your shirt up, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You arched into him, your body desperate for his touch, your hands seeking purchase on his arms.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over your head, his hands immediately returning to explore your newly exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts and along your stomach. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat, every nerve in your body on fire. “Buck…” you gasped, the word more of a plea than anything else. “Please… I need…”

Buck’s eyes darkened slight with desire, his fingers hooking into the waist of your sweatpants and pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, baring you to him completely. “I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth trailing kisses down your hip and inner thigh. “I’m going to give you everything you need, baby. Just trust me.”

He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider for him. A thrill of anticipation shot through you as his breath ghosted over your core, his lips following the path his breath had taken. “Beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a low, reverential murmur against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me,”

He ran his tongue tentatively along the length of your slit, drawing a shudder from you, his hands gripping your thighs tight as he teased you, taking his time to lavish attention on every inch of you. You arched against him, your hips rolling, seeking more of his touch. “Please,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. "Please, Buck…”

Buck’s grip on your thighs tightened at your words, a low grumble rumbling in his throat. “Not yet, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not done showing you how perfect you are.” He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. "Relax. Let me show you.”

With that, he licked a long, slow stripe up through your folds, his tongue flicking against your clit briefly before moving back down, drawing another shudder from you. He repeated the motion, over and over, his tongue working with purpose to show you how deeply he was lost in you, in the feel of you, the taste of you.

Every touch of his tongue was a jolt of pleasure, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched against him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Buck—” you gasped, your thighs quivering under his grip. “Please, I can’t—”

Buck pulled away, his chin glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You can,” he said, his voice a low, raspy rumble. “You will. Just a little longer, baby.” He teased a finger into your entrance, and your breath caught in your throat again. “I just need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

He moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a bruising kiss, his body pressing you down into the couch. You could feel the hard length of him, still trapped in his jeans, and you rocked against him, desperate for more. “Buck, please,” you gasped. “I need you, please…”

“Soon, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against yours, just enough to make you gasp again. “Soon. I promise.”

He reached between your bodies, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing them down his hips just enough to free himself, the hot length of him resting against your thigh as he kissed you again. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverential murmur. “So perfect for me.”

His hands gripped your hips, angling them up to meet him, and he began to press into you, slowly, inch by inch.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, the stretch of him filling you, the heat of him surrounding you, the pleasure of the friction as he moved inside of you.

“Perfect,” he murmured again, his lips against your ear. “So goddamn perfect, god I was made to be with you like this,”

He began to move after a few stationary moments, his hips rocking against yours in a steady, measured rhythm, your bodies moving together in a desperate dance, the pleasure building with every movement. “You feel that, baby?” he gasped, his voice rough with desire. “You feel how well you moulded to fit me?”

You nodded mutely, your voice lost in a gasp as the pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, every touch of his hands, every movement of his body.

“That’s how I know you were made for me,” he continued, his voice ragged with desire. “Your body fits with mine, like two pieces of a puzzle. You’re mine, baby, don’t ever forget that. You were made for me, and I’m never letting you go.”

His pace picked up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, his breathing ragged with desire. “Don’t ever think you’re not perfect,” he whispered, his lips against your ear. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, baby. And I’ll keep going until you say you believe me—”

His body was pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. You could feel every muscle of his body taut with tension, every line of him pressed against you.

“Don’t ever doubt how much I want you,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. “I’ll show you over and over again until you believe me, oh god, baby, I’m never going to stop needing you like this. Never.”

His thrusts were increasingly ragged, his rhythm faltering as his climax tried to sneak up on him, only for him to force it down so he could focus on you.

“Say you believe me, baby,” he gasped, his voice a pleading murmur against your skin. “Say you’ll never doubt what you mean to me, because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted— everything— and I can’t live without you, baby, I can’t—”

“I believe you,” you gasped, your own climax building within you, teetering on the edge of release. “I believe you, I do, Buck, I believe you—”

“Say you won’t ever doubt yourself again,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire. “Say you’ll believe me when I tell you how perfect you are, because you are perfect, baby, and I will fuck you like this every day if that’s what it takes to make you believe it—”

“I won’t,” you gasped, your words punctuated by a gasp as your eyes squeezed shut from the stimulation. “I won’t doubt myself, I promise, but please, Buck, I need–”

“I know what you need, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to give it to you. Over and over and over again, until you’re so full of me, and so sated that you’ll never doubt us again.”

His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his own climax, as he sought to bring you to the edge, to push you over and bring you to the release you needed.

“Come for me, baby,” he pleaded, his voice ragged with desire. "I need to feel you come apart beneath me, I need it, baby, come on—”

You cried out at his words, your body shuddering with pleasure at the combination of his touch and his words, the pleasure within you cresting and crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body arched against him, your hands clinging to him as if your life depended on it, your breaths coming out in gasps.

Buck groaned as he felt you come apart beneath him, the feeling of you clenching around him drawing a guttural moan from him. “Oh god, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “That’s it, oh god, baby, I’m right there, I’m right there—”

His pace quickly picked up, his thrusts ragged and desperate, his body tense with the need to join you. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Gonna make you mine, gonna make sure you know you’re mine forever—”

His thrusts became erratic, his breath coming out in gasps as he rode the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you, okay?”

“Yes,” you gasped, you hands desperately clinging to him, “yes, please, I need it, I need you—”

With a final, ragged gasp, he came hard, his body shuddering as his orgasm coursed through his torso and down his legs, spilling his release into you, white and hot and possessive in a way his words would never be.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. “God, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually,” you murmured, your own breathing still slightly ragged. You reached up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. “You’re damn convincing, Buckley.”

He chuckled at your comment, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. "I meant every word, baby," he murmured, his lips drifting up the column of your neck to your ear. "You're perfect for me, and I'll keep proving it to you until you believe it yourself.”

You hummed contentedly at his words, your body relaxing against him, boneless and sated. You could feel the warm, sticky aftermath of his release between your legs, and you tightened your thighs together involuntarily at the sensation. “I think I believe you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing small circles along his back.

He chuckled again at your words, his hands roaming your body, tracing a lazy path along your curves. "You're damn right you believe me," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "And if you ever forget it, I'll just have to remind you again. Over and over and over...”

He rolled the two of you over, pulling you close against his chest and wrapping you in his embrace. "But for now," he said, his voice softer now, "I just want to hold you. Just feel you in my arms, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing a slow, soothing circle on your back. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured, his voice gentle and full of tenderness. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I'm never letting you go.”

You smiled at his words, snuggling closer against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "I love you too, Buck," you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "More than anything.”

#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley smut #oliver stark

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little-writers-posts · 8 months ago

Text

Something More Between Us (The Milkman x GN Reader)

Author's Note: A short draft that was playing in my mind because of the milkman on TikTok. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 781

The clock marked 9 p.m., marking the end of my shift as a doorman at the apartment complex where I live. I stretched out on the chair and sighed. At the same time, the other doorman comes through the door to take my place and start his shift.

“Hey, (Y/N), how was your day?” he asked as he started to unpack his things.

“A little tiring, to be honest. Had four residents, plus two without an entry request, and caught six doppelgangers, some more violent than others, but it comes with the job, I suppose.” I said as I packed my things.

“I’m lucky to be on the night shift” he smiled. “I only have three tenants on the list, and according to the DDD all the tenants are in the building except for those.”

“Don’t be careless. Our lives are at stake here.” I warned. “But, you’re right, you’re lucky.” I smiled.

I quickly scanned his list for the night and my heart skipped a beat. Francis name was there, I assume he left for his job as a milkman and, if I remember correctly from my night shifts, he was one of the first to arrive.

When I started working as a doorman as well as living at the building, one of the perks was to get to know the people who lived in the same space. I always thought that Francis was good-looking, even with those tired eyes. However, even if we do chat a bit at the door or on the occasional bump in the corridors, we never really moved past that. He is a very reserved person and prefers to keep things private, I get that, plus he never seamed that interested in me.

As I was lost in thought, I heard two voices in the entrance lobby and realised my colleague was gathering all the folders to check the information.

“Mmm… Hello” I heard Francis say through the door.

“Good evening mister Mosses” greeted the doorman. “Let’s see…”

I resume my packing, picking up some final things left and reaching for the keys to my apartment.

“All good! You may go.”

“Perfect.”

The second voice reached for the window, “Good evening.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Looking good as always Mr. Gauss”

Once I had everything I left for my own apartment. When I reach the elevator, I saw that Francis was holding the door.

“Oh, thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, “Izaack is also coming so I thought I might wait for both.”

I joined in and backed up against the wall, standing next to him.

“Our prettiest doorman is joining us today, its always a pleasure walking with you” Izaack mentioned as the door shuts, “Did you think about my proposal?”

I sighed for what seems like the thousandth time today. “I am not interested in going on a date with you, thanks.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N).” He insisted. “It’s going to be fun, I promise. And I’m not just talking about dinner, you know?”

He stepped closer to me. Suddenly, I felt slightly trapped in that elevator. I tried to move further back, but I was already up against the wall. Isaack started to raise his hand to grab me by the chin and possibly bring me even closer to him. However, it didn't come to that. A body came between me and the raised hand.

“Geez, Francis, relax” Isaack chuckled. “I was just messing arround.”

The doors to the elevator opened on the second floor. Isaack was walking out into the corridor, but looked back before the doors closed again.

“You sure can be scary when you’re angry Mosses” He gave that characteristic smile of his. “See you tomorrow.”

The doors closed and Francis moved out of the way.

“Thank you” I whispered to him.

“Hm.” He raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, if he ever bothers you again liked that, let me know, ok?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Francis” I said while massaging the back of my neck “He's infuriating, that’s true, and persistent, but I can deal it him.”

The elevator reached the third floor.

“I mean it.” He said while leaving to his apartment. “I… I do worry about you.”

I was about to put the key in the door when I suddenly stopped and looked at him. He stared at me with his tired but expectant eyes.

"I didn't know..." An embarrassed but broad smile appeared on my face "Thank you, Francis, I care about you too, a lot."

He nodded and gave a small smile, turning and heading for his apartment.

After all, there might be something more between us than I thought.

#milkman x reader #milkman #francis mosses #Francis #francis mosses x reader #x reader #reader #x you #you #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger #doppelganger francis mosses #The milkman #Francis x reader #Francis x you #Francis Mosses x you

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tlbodine · 1 year ago

Text

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #writing advice #nano 2023 #writeblr #writing community #plotting vs pantsing #junebugging

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landosjpg · 10 months ago

Text

boy next door | ln

the one where you come home to a sticky note under your peephole.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: none!

notes: just a little blurb that has been sitting on my drafts for a while. i also have a rough draft for a part two because i feel like this didn't have enough lando, so let me know if you'd like me to go through it! not proofread

it was the beginning of july. the warm sun of monte-carlo kissed your skin as you walked your way back to your apartment, grocery bags in both your hands.

you had moved into your new house only a few weeks ago, finally being able to rent your own place and not depend on your parents' money anymore after two years of saving all your job's worth. it felt good, having your own place, even if sometimes it felt a little lonely. but you kept telling yourself that you just had to get used to it, give yourself some time to adapt to your new life.

however, you sighed contently as you stepped into the elevator; in the matter of a few minutes you would be finally resting in the comfort of your new couch for the first time that day. it had been a long day at work, and unfortunately, it was only tuesday. which meant you still had the whole week ahead of you.

while making your way to your apartment through the long corridor, you thought about what you'd make for dinner that night, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion the second your eyes caught a glimpse of something unfamiliar on your door. you walked towards it and left the bags you were carrying on the floor, one of your hands reaching for the sticky note right under the peephole.

"beautiful singing. bit old-fashioned, tho" the note read, a smiley face accompanied the message.

you read the words carefully, the confusion that you had first felt when you saw the piece of paper fading away with a chuckle. you took the bags from the floor and finally opened your door, the note still between your fingers when you made your way back to the couch after having put your groceries down in the kitchen.

you read it again and again as your head rested on one of the fluffy pillows of your couch. you had been singing your lungs out that very morning, right before leaving for work. but you thought nobody lived in the apartment next door. at least, you hadn't seen —or heard —anyone during the few weeks that you had been living there. but to be fair, you hadn't encountered that many neighbors during your little time in your new home.

for a few minutes, you thought about if you should answer with another silly note. it was a lighthearted joke, whoever had written those words couldn't mean any harm. and maybe that could be your opportunity make some friends around the neighborhood.

after a few minutes of considering wether it was a good idea, you sighed and got up from the comfort of your couch and walked to your room, lazily sitting in front of the little desk. a sticky note right under your nose and a pen between your fingers.

a long sigh of defeat left your lips as you leaned back against the chair. you had wasted a good fifteen minutes and way too many sticky notes to count at that point, and you still hadn't come up with a decent answer.

nothing sounded good enough to you. too rude. too dumb. too immature.

why was it that hard to just write down some stupid words? you wanted to make a good impression, to whoever that was.

"britney spears will never be old-fashioned. but i'll try to sing something that might be more to your liking next time."

you read it once again. you weren't completely satisfied by your choice of words, but you knew you wouldn't come up with anything better, and you had already wasted half of your sticky notes.

you decided not to give the matter any more thought and left your bedroom again, ready to end your night with a shower and something nice for dinner, feeling the exhaustion from the day starting to kick in, your body feeling heavy already.

୨୧

your smile lit up when you walked to your front door after another tiring day at the office, noticing how there was a new sticky note placed to the same spot where you found the first one the previous evening.

that morning, you had decided to stick your own note under the peephole of the apartment next door. and truth was, you weren't really expecting an answer. but there it was: the same handwriting thar made you chuckle once again, trapping your lower lip between your teeth as you read what it said.

"already doing a good job, loved today's setlist."

and with that, a few days passed as you kept exchanging silly notes with your mysterious neighbor.

until one night, you came home to a sticky note in your door with only a few numbers written on it. you were quick to add the number to your contact list.

"was communicating through notes too old-fashioned for you?" you sent the text without thinking too much about your words and patiently waited for a reply that didn't take long to arrive.

that was the first text of the many that followed, the note exchange that at first seemed dumb, quickly turning into long sleepless nights in which your smile only grew wider with each reply you got from lando.

of course, the second a few facts about himself slipped through his texts, you immediately knew who he was. it was only natural, your dad always had been a big racing fanatic, so you knew a thing or two about it. but you never expected him to be as nice.

despite of texting back and forth, often using your phone on the sly at work just for your face to bright up the second his notification popped up, you two never saw each other. with your tight schedule and him being away for work a lot of the time, it wasn't easy.

not that any of you had mentioned actually meeting up, of course, but you found yourself thinking about the scenario a few times before going to sleep.

and all of the sudden you found yourself laying on your couch on a saturday night, having canceled on all your friends just to stay in and talk to the boy who hadn't left your mind ever since you saw that stupid note on your front door.

"i'd rather have some rest," you told them. “this week has been exhausting anyway." but you weren't as tired as you made it seem. not even close.

and so, after putting on some comfy clothes, you lied on the couch and turned your tv on, ready to put some movie as background noise while you texted with lando.

"any plans for tonight?" he suddenly asked. the question didn't catch you by surprise, he often asked what were you up to.

"movie and food delivery." you almost immediately answered, and while you waited for a reply, you scrolled through netflix looking for something that would catch your eye.

after a few minutes, you checked your phone. nothing yet. in fact, he had left your message on read. that wasn't quite like him.

you frowned and before you could send another text, your doorbell rang. you sighed and got up, lazily walking to the door and expecting your friends behind it, ready to force you to go out with them.

your eyes widened when, instead, you saw the brit standing in front of you with messy, curly hair and a hoodie over his head despite of being the middle of summer. he had some snacks in his hands and he was smiling down at you.

you were speechless, not having expecting him just to show up at your door like that.

"what movie are we watching?" he asked with a bright smile, inviting himself inside.

click here for part 2 :)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine

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xerith-42 · 10 months ago

Text

I know it seems like striking on social media might not do enough, but as someone who has been outright obsessively using the internet since I was a child to the point that it is literally woven in my soul, been active and involved in online activism for about five years, and been using social media as marketing for about the same amount of time, I can confidently say that

THIS FUCKING WORKS!!

People base their entire businesses on their success on social media. They look at trending topics on twitter and don't see bite sized chunks of culture distilled to its finest and worst moments, they see market data! They don't see you as a single human being, they see you as a data point among thousands run through a probably AI assisted system that's prone to fucking up, that determines everything they're going to do.

How they're going to advertise, who they target it with it, what the general public wants. Every single major corporation uses data from social media websites to do this. Every. Single. One. Social media is a lot of things, and one of those things is a tool for business and politics. We know for a fact that social media politics bleeds out into the real world very fucking quickly.

Even if you can't strike financially, even if you have to go to work or school to survive, striking on social media is one of the best things you can do. Even if it's quiet. People are going to notice when thousands upon thousands of users across various sites go completely dark, and even more when some of them start getting real fucking loud about this. The US Capitalist Infused Government loves sweeping war crimes under the rug once they think the general public has forgotten about their atrocities and fallen into complacency. This system has been doing this for literal centuries.

Social media is just the newest and most expansive form we as a species have developed in the ongoing invention of ways to express our thoughts about things. It's the weirdest one, that's for sure, but executives pay attention to it. They don't often seek to understand it beyond a very basic level, because as I said, they view us as numbers on a screen, not as multifaceted incredibly and deeply fucked human beings. They do not seek to understand us on a personal level unless they think the cost of it won't outweigh the potential profit.

Pattern recognition is the tool of the moment. Machine Learning. Gathering endless amounts of data so we can replicate human existence through machines. You may think that social media strikes are ineffective because social media is just on the internet and it's "not real", but it is real! You are really doing stuff! You are contributing! Even if you're just lurking! Basic amounts of engagement can make a huge impact in a busted algorithm. Maybe you're not someone who would ever be drafted into an actual war-zone due to physical or mental health conditions, but you are probably a part of a key demographic of people that businesses are absolutely hungry for.

The budding adult has always been the target of greedy capitalists basically since this system was established and continued to get worse over time. The stage of your life when you are in the age range of 18-25 is an incredibly important transitional period, followed by a transitional period every six months until you lose sense of what six months even is because you haven't been happy in eight, and if you're in the 18-25 range currently, you got extra fucked by the pandemic. The world is in a turbulent stage and we are at the center of all of it and have been since 2001. Every single social media marketing expert will tell you the 18-25 demographic of social media users is a target demographic, because they are the most prone to extremes due to a life chock full of them.

We have to remember to be human, but we have to also know how to speak their language. They just see us as numbers? Let's show them some fucking numbers. Make posts about Gaza trend on every platform you have your hands on. Even if it's just liking posts, that gives them a slight boost in the algorithm. Commenting on posts is especially important on sites like Twitter and Instagram. But across every site the most important thing to do is reblog/retweet/share/send/copy link, whatever it is for that site, it is the biggest thing that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE looks at.

From a humble artist to a head of marketing at a billion dollar corporation about to have a meeting with a barely over 21 intern about how they need to run the twitter account, to said intern bumbling their way through adulthood with a job they only feel they're good at because they've been using social media since Skype was invented. We need to be loud, we need to make sure this can't be ignored, we can't sweep this under the rug. Mass media, especially coming out of the West, has been trying to censor, de-sanitize, and keep this issue quiet.

DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE SILENCED

There are tens of thousands of DEAD CHILDREN who have been BOMBED while in CIVILIAN AREAS and that is a FUCKING WAR CRIME.

THIS IS A GENOCIDE

Say that as many times as you can. Do not let it be ignored. A silent populous is a complacent one. Use your voice, even as small as it may seem. Make noise. Be loud. Be annoying. Don't let this be ignored. Talk about it everywhere you go. Do not let this be ignored.

Sometimes even we get disconnected from the real people around us. We base our sense of worth as a person based on the numbers going up or down but instead of developing a gambling addiction we just got angry about it but still fall into it because of cultural conditioning. But even if you only have let's say, completely random example, 70 followers. And only a small percent of them will see your post. Let's say maybe 20 on average, 30 on a good day, and even higher based on the machinations of fate. That's still 20 people who took time out of their day to read something you wrote, process something you created, share a part of your experience of living.

And likely they felt compelled to share it too, therefore increasing the spread of people who feel your influence. 20 people may not seem like a lot, but that has a major impact. Now imagine posts into the hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands and even millions. Those aren't just numbers. Each and every single one of those is just another person who might have reblogged a post because someone they like shared it, or because they wanted to spread its message, and that simple act causes a single post to have massive waves of effects from simple ripples.

Don't let yourself be discouraged. Don't think your voice or your impact "isn't enough to matter." Everything counts.

Don't let this be ignored. Don't become complacent. Know that every little thing counts, and to do every little thing you can.

#freepalastine🇵🇸#free palestine #free gaza #social media strike #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #strike for palestine #palestinian genocide #palestine #ceasefire #endisraelsgenocide #isreal is committing genocie #do not be silent #please reblog #spread the word #spread awareness #be loud

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machveil · 2 months ago

Note

hey, i noticed you normally do straight pairing but i had a thought that might be fun m!reader is a curious soldier working with monster!konig to the point where he wants to see how his tentacles feel on him. starts innocently with his hands and arms but it gets more intimate; tentacle on his chest, thighs...

I didn’t forget this was in my draft folder, I didn’t forget this was—

CW: m!reader, groping, suggestive

years as colleagues and being close friends with Monster!König left you wondering about his more eldritch body parts. it wasn’t a secret that the man had monstrous limbs, strong and agile while on the battlefield - considered to be weapons, an extension of his body used for destruction

oh, but you’re a curious guy, it’s in your nature. thoughts running through your head when you see his tentacles reach out from under his hood - ‘what do they feel like?’, ‘how strong are they really?’, ‘would they feel cool or hot against my skin’. would König be weirded out by your innermost thoughts regarding him? you couldn’t say

it took a lot to build up the nerve to ask him. you were practically sweating bullets when he stood in front of you, icy gaze cast down as you asked if you could feel his appendages. you cringed a little when he chuckled - were you going too far? but when he replied it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, “Ja, the barracks. You know where my room is.”. that was all he said before he walked off, leaving you awe struck that… yeah, you’d get to feel his tentacles

he didn’t say when, just that he’d be in his room. you figured you’d wait til dark, give yourself a little more privacy under the veil of night. you paced outside his door for a good minute, are you sure you want this? obviously, yes, you’d been imagining his tentacles on you since you met him

when you finally stopped pacing, glancing up at his door, all it took was a deep breath before you knocked. a simple ‘come in’ as an answer, you swallowed as you opened his door. there, on his bed - looking almost comically large - sat König, hooded and staring at you, “I was starting to think you’d be too scared to come, Kleiner Soldat.”

when he patted his thigh, gesturing for you to come over, you could hardly breathe. closing the door behind you, just as you were about to walk towards him, he tuts, “Ah— lock the door, schatz.”, accent thick as he spoke lowly. lock the door? for privacy, that’s what you told yourself as you flicked the lock, breathing out when you hear the little click

when you finally walk over to him, nervous as he takes your hand, he looks at you, “Was? Waiting for an invitation? Sit.”, he chuckles, though his command sounds a little rougher. he’s sturdy, comfortable as you awkwardly sit down on his thigh. there’s a moment of silence where he simply looks at you, perched on his leg

“Sorry if this is weird— I’ve just always wanted to know what… those felt like.”, you say, voice strained as you break the silence. there’s a brief moment before König rests his hands on your hips - moving you to straddle his thigh rather than siting side-saddle, “It’s okay, I understand. I know how you get, liebe.”

it’s true, ignoring your curiosity aimed at his tentacles, you always seemed to be interested in one thing or another. König was fond of it, always listening to your little facts and ramblings. back to his chest, he hums, “Hold your hands out, don’t look back.”

that caught your attention, and you did as you were told. hands up in front of you, your eyes widen as familiar fabric is placed in your grasp. his sniper hood. the shock of it almost gets you, already turning your head to ask what he’s doing - but he stops you, his hand coming up to gently grip your chin, turning you to face forward again, “Already ignoring my commands? That’s alright, I’ll let that slide,”, he huffs, leaning a little closer to you, “It won’t happen again, right?”

you can barely manage an ‘okay’ when you feel something touch your bicep. smooth, slick, little suckers lining the underside. oh god, firm muscle coiling around your upper arm. that same sensation at the nape of your neck, dipping just below your shirts collar, “This is what you wanted, liebe?”, voice a little condescending as he speaks

his hands move from your hips to the tops of your thighs, grip firm. in the same place his hands had been, you feel more limbs reach out for you, snug against your waist - ever so slightly constricting. he’s practically pawing at your thighs when your breath hitches, a tentacle drifting down towards your stomach, resting where your shirt stops and pants start. and when it pokes down, just barely grazing your skin, König’s hands shift towards your inner thighs

“Tell me, Mein kurioses Spielzeug, where should I touch you? Hm?”

#CW: google translate #big man monster!könig and his average joe bed #konig #könig #monster!konig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x male reader #könig x m!reader #könig headcanons #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty #hit post

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watsittoyah · 2 years ago

Text

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, sex dreams, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, and slight blood play.

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 2- Bites & Fangs

The last time you had a depression episode, it was in the tenth grade when your old boyfriend, Peter Parker had dumped you for some girl named Gwen.

Well that was many years ago and now you were depressed because you were watching good burger in your ratty old polka dot robe.

But you were in denial, because every time Erica asked if you were depressed you just lied and said you were just working on something important.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out? It’s been two weeks.” Erica asks as you press play to Good Burger. “Yeah, I’m good. I got a pizza coming and I got some drafts to work on.” You half lie. There was a pizza coming.

“Tomorrow let’s go to the park and get some fresh air. You need it.” You ignore her and Milo cuddles up close to you. “Please make sure you clean your dishes. I’ll be back around midnight.” Erica calls out.

When she finally leaves you look down at Milo’s orange little face and you kiss his nose. “I think you’re the only boy I can trust, Milo. I’m sure you’d never leave me in a club bathroom with my panties at my ankles right?”

His blue eyes just seem to stare at you and you nod because you’ve entered your crazy cat lady era. “Don’t answer that. Let’s get you some food and I’ll…clean up.” You pause the movie and bring Milo into the kitchen with you.

You pour him a bit of dry food and mix it with some wet food. You place his food down and he look down at the food then back at you. You kneel down and scratch under his chin and he licks your fingers.

“Milo, don’t ever become one of those jerk cats that leads girl cats on. You keep being a good boy.” You comments after you stand up. You look at the kitchen and decide to start cleaning there.

You get some cleaning supplies and sigh heavy. It’s been two weeks since the club incident and you haven’t let yourself think about Miguel since. Sure he lives in the building but you have no clue which apartment. And yeah he lives in the same city as you but you don’t know which parts he goes to.

Sure you still dream about Miguel, you still dream about his touch, his smell…No. No you weren’t going to do this. You were not about to cry over him again.

You sniffle back the tears and wipe your face with the back of your hand. “Stupid good looking bastard. With your good looking hair and cute accent.” You toss some water into a bucket and Milo just stares at you.

“Milo, you might want to leave the kitchen it’s about to get crazy in here.” You tell him. He simply meows and licks your leg.

Maybe you’re about to be on your period. Or maybe you’re just hormonal but him doing that just made you break down and cry. “Come on Milo, stop. I need to mop up my tears.” You say through your cloudy vision….

••••

After two good cries and half a mental breakdown, you were happy with how the apartment looked. You hear the doorbell ring and you make sure Milo was still sleeping at your feet before you went to answer it.

You grab the money from off the counter and open the door to see a young girl with your food. “Medium cheese pizza with garlic knots?” She asks confirming your order. “You got it.” You hand her a twenty and tell her to keep the change. “Actually miss you’re five dollars short.” You give her a side eye and nod. “Let me go and grab you some more money then.” You prop the door open a bit so Milo can’t leave out and you place the food down on the counter.

You go into your wallet and pull out the money you need and go to give it to her. “Here you go.” You hand it to her and she gives an extra big smile. “Tip?” I know fucking we-

“You have a good night.” You tell her. Just as you’re about to close the door. Milo runs between your legs and out the door. “Milo!” You shout after him as you run down the hall.

You almost have him but a door opens and he runs inside. “Milo!” You yell as you start to run inside of the apartment. But something screams stop and you obey that voice in your head.

When you look up your heart was pounding because it was just your luck that it was his apartment. You take several steps back as you see him go back into his apartment. If Milo wasn’t inside you’d be flying back to the apartment and locking yourself inside.

You hear his little meow and you don’t look up because you know those hazel eyes are looking down at you. “Thank you.” You mutter as Miguel hands Milo back to you. “You can’t go running into strangers apartments, Milo. What if they would’ve hurt you? That’s it you’re grounded. No cartoons for a week.” You scold him as you hear Miguel chuckle.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? I’m sure the little guy didn’t mean it.” You raise a sculpted brow at him and turn without saying a word. “Amo-”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Tommie! Do you understand, Mr. O’Hara? Tommie. Not Amor, not mi corazón. None of those nicknames. You don’t get that privilege after what you fucking did.” You snap at him, causing Miguel to flinch.

“I’m sorry. But I can explain.” You roll your eyes at him and you march to your apartment with Milo tucked in your arms.

You go to slam the door but Miguel stops it and you go to snap at him but he raises his hands to show he means no harm. Instead of arguing, you tell him to close the door before Milo gets out again.

He does what he’s told and you place Milo down on the floor in front of you. He jumps down and he circles Miguel. “Hola niño pequeño. How are you?” Miguel says as he scoops Milo up in his arms.

“Milo isn’t friendly. He loves to scratch, especially at peoples eyes.” You tell Miguel. Milo, the little traitor licks Miguel’s nose and stands on his shoulder.

You narrow your eyes at the cute little monster. “You sleep on the couch tonight.” He gives a cute meow and Miguel picks him up and rubs his belly as Milo goes to lick his fingers. “Your mom is mad at me, do you think you can help me out?”

“First things first, you talking to my roommate kitten isn’t going to get you off of the hook, Mr. O’Hara. He is in the apartment, you can leave.”

You turn away from him and get your pizza and garlic knots. “That smells good, are you and Milo going to eat that?” Miguel asks as he leans against the wall and holds Milo close. You see him from the corner of your eye and you keep the scowl on your face.

“You get one small tiny slice, a glass of tap water and a crumb of my garlic knots. After that you take your crack back to your place.” You say as you motion him to follow you into the kitchen.

He places Milo down and he watches you as you grab two plates from the cabinets. “We wash our hands in this apartment, Mr. O’Hara.” You announce to him. “Yes, Ma’am.” Miguel stands up and as you wash your hands, you pass the soap to him. He takes it, as his fingers brush against yours. Those fingers that have touched you. Those fingers that have been on your mind, those fingers that you’ve been tempted to taste.

You clear your throat and you give him a slice. “I’m sorry about leaving like that. I was an ass and if I were you I wouldn’t talk to me ever again either.”

“So I shouldn’t talk to you? Got it.” You say stubbornly. He sighs and you feel a bit bad for making this difficult for him. But he deserved it…a little. “Am-Tommie. If it helps, I’ve been miserable for not talking to you.”

“You have my number, Miguel you could’ve texted me.”

“The phone works both ways, Tommie.” He says as he accepts the pizza from you. You turn away from him because deep down, you’re actually happy that he’s here. In fact this has been the happiest you’ve been in past two weeks.

You grab a pitcher of ice tea and grab two glasses. “Would you like some ice?” You ask as you place the glasses down on the counter. “I thought you were giving me tap water.” He says with a smirk playing across his lips.

“I can give you tap water if that’s what you want, Miguel.” You grab the glass but he gets a hold of your wrist and he gives you a look that says he’s sorry. “Yes, I’ll have ice.” He says as he uses his thumb to rub your inner wrist.

You stand there longer than necessary and just look into his eyes. Why does this all feel so familiar? You go to speak but the glass knocks out of your hand and you expect to hear a crash. But it never comes because Miguel had caught it effortlessly.

He placed the glass on the counter and you gently take your wrist back. “How many would you like?” You ask as you open the freezer door and try to crack the ice cube tray.

You turn and he was right there. “Here let me.” He takes the tray from you and he cracks it. He takes a small piece and he brings it to your lips. It’s an action you’ve done since you were a child.

Whenever you cracked some ice, you would take the smaller pieces and you’d chew on it. You take it from him and he turns away from you, placing ice in both of the glasses.

“How did he…” You whisper as you suck the ice. You walk over and you pour the ice tea in both of the glasses. You two sit down on the stools and as you eat you pass him the chili pepper flakes. “Gracias, mi amor.”

“You’re welcome.” You say as he shakes some flakes onto his pizza. You take a big bite and you hear Miguel cough from the flakes. “Are you sure you’re part Latino? Can’t even handle pepper flakes.” You tease as you reach over and bite his slice. “Hey, that’s mine.” He says with a laugh.

“Well consider me getting my pouring your tea fee.” You joke. “Then what do I get for cracking the ice for you?” He asks as he leans in close to you. “What do you want?” You ask as you take a sip of your tea.

“I think you know what I want, Tommie.” His eyes travels over your body and you feel warm all over and secretly happy you’re not wearing your ratty robe. “Oh I don’t think that’s equal value, Miguel.” He licks his fingers and you can’t help but think of something else you could be sucking.

“I don’t know, that ice was pretty hard to crack. Maybe I can crack something else for you though.” Miguel says as he places a heavy hand on your bare thigh. He squeezes it and you suck your bottom lip.

“Mmm, don’t go sucking that bottom lip, amor.” You release your lip and pout. “Then what should I do with it?” You ask as you open your legs and feel his thumb rubbing your inner thigh. “Let me suck it for you. You know I do love sucking your lips, mostly these.” His hand travels up your thigh and you let out a moan.

Miguel leans in to kiss you but you jump back. “No, no, no. Not like this. We’re staring over and we’re going to start over as friends.” You close your legs and scoot your chair back from him.

“As friends. Good.” Miguel says as he keeps eyeing you like a hungry dog. “Yes, friends. So how was your day?” You ask as you bounce your leg. “It was miserable in the beginning, all because I mistreated my friend.”

“Oh! Well I hope you groveled and got on your knees to get her forgiveness.” You say as you continue to bounce your leg. “I don’t mind groveling. But I do know she loves when I’m on my knees.” The swallow you made was definitely loud enough for Miguel to hear.

You look at him and Miguel was no longer touching his food, instead he was standing up and letting his chair scrape across the floor. “If you want to be friends, then that’s fine. But I don’t want to be friends. I want you, and I’ll never leave the way I did, Tommie. Now I don’t know about you but I’ve been thinking about the taste of your pussy for the past two weeks and to know the only thing stopping me is your consent and those shorts is making me a bit crazy. So do I have your consent? If no then I’ll unders-”

“Miguel shut up and fuck me.” When you give him the green light he pounces and he lets his chair fall on the floor as he pulls you in.

He lifts you up and he pins you against the refrigerator. He kisses your lips and your hands work on getting his shirt off. “Mmm, Tommie where is your bedroom?” He asks as he sucks your bottom lip. “Down….the hall.” He cups your ass under your shorts and starts walking out of the kitchen. You manage to get his shirt off and you toss it. As you walk pass you grab your glass of ice and Miguel kisses your lips again, twirling his tongue with yours. You suck it and you grab the wall. “That way.” You tell him.

He kicks your door open and then kicks it shut once he’s inside. Miguel places you down on your feet and he looks down at you. “Eres tan hermosa.” He goes to kiss you but you press your fingers against his lips. “I need you to take off these jeans, and take off these boxers.” You tell him as you take a piece of ice into your mouth.

He doesn’t say a word, he simply just does what you’ve asked of him and he stood there like a chiseled stoned god. You press your hand against his taught stomach and he sits down on your bed causing it to creak.

You lower yourself onto your knees and press his thighs apart. He leans down and he kisses you, sucking and biting at your bottom lip as he reaches under your t shirt, massaging your right breast.

You break the kiss first and you grab another piece of ice. “You know, if I would've known you were just down the hall from me, I would’ve invited you over sooner. And we could’ve done this." You press the ice cube against the head of his dick and you watch Miguel’s eyes flutter closed.

“I’ll…remember that when I need a cup of sugar, mi corazón.” He lets out a soft moan and you grip him in your hand. God he was huge, how was this going to fit in your mouth? Let alone inside of you?

You needed at least two hands to hold him properly. So you popped the ice into your mouth, took him in both of your hand and you rolled the ice with your tongue over the tip.

You let the head and the ice past your lips and you suck slowly so you can get use to the size. “Una chica tan buena para mí. My good girl.” You look up at him and see his eyes full of lust. You then suck a bit faster, letting the ice melt away and Miguel lets out a whimper.

You decide to take him in your throat and you feel the tickle in your throat. The gag reflex. But you push past it and Miguel runs his fingers through your hair. “Mine, all fucking mine.” He says as he caresses your face.

You slowly start to bob your head up and down which causes pre to leak from Miguel. You taste it and he shutters. “Amor, amor you don’t have to do…th…that.” You were sucking and using your tongue at the same time which was starting to cause your throat to get tighter.

You don’t answer him, you just keep going. Keep sucking. You see he’s breathing heavy and he tries to move you off but you pin his arms down. Which was ridiculous because you knew he was the stronger one.

Then again maybe he’s weak around you.

He whines about how good your throat feels on the tip and he keeps still so he doesn’t hurt you. You look up into his eyes and you see the lust and want. You try to deep throat him but you feel yourself about to choke. “S…stop. Stop Tommie. Don’t hurt yourself.” Miguel moves you back and you have drool down your chin.

“But I want more, I want you to fuck my throat.” You say staring down at his hard thick dick. “I know, but baby next time. We have all the time in the world. Come here.” He helps you off of your knees and he sits you on his lap.

You spread your legs and his dick was pressed against the front of your shorts. “You feel that?” He presses it up harder against you and you let your head fall back and moan. “Yes, I do.”

“You want this inside of this little pussy don’t you?” You nod, looking into his ruby eyes. “I don’t think you do, amor. I think it’s too big for you to handle.”

You pout and caress his cheek. “I want you, I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck me till I can’t stand. Miguel please.” You beg as you flick your tongue out against his puffy bottom lip.

“Esa boca tuya...it’s gonna get you in trouble.” He says as he sucks your tongue. You moan and flick your tongue against his teeth. “I think my mouth is worth the trouble.” You say to him. You feel his hands grip your thighs and that’s when you hear your shorts rip. You don’t even both to look down, you can feel that he has it positioned right against you.

He slaps the head against the head of your clit and you let out a moan. “Relax for me, Tommie. I want this to feel good. Let me help you feel good.” You nod and as he slides his dick in you, your mouth forms a big O and you grip his forearms.

He hisses and moans how tight you are against your neck. He thrusts in slowly and you rest your body against him. He picks up his pace a little and turns your head so that he can kiss you.

“Does this hurt? Please let me know if I’m hurting you.” You shake your head. “Issgood.” You moan out as you take his hand and bring it to your clit. He rubs it slowly as he thrust in a bit faster.

“God I could fuck you for hours, mi princesa.” He continues to rub your clit as he grips your waist with the other hand. You were in heaven right now, getting your pussy filled while inhaling this man scent. You were in such lust, your legs were aching.

His thrusts start to get animalistic and you can feel his teeth starting to scrape gently across your brown skin.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and you moan out the first thing that comes to mind. “Do it…I want you to.” Miguel’s breathing starts to become heavy and his grip on you feels as if it’s going to leave bruises.

“Whatever you want, amor. I’ll do it. Whatever you want.” His voice sounds harsh and his starts to rub you slower as he thrusts faster, which makes your body start to shake. “Bite me…please bite me.” You moan out as your eyes roll back from him fucking you like a rag doll.

He lets go of your waist and he grips your shoulder. You feel the sharp pain for only a second and you feel not just his fang like teeth biting down on your shoulder, but you feel him coming deep inside of you. You groan out a few words in gibberish and you come hard.

You feel him let go and your body feels weak against him. He leans his head against your back as you feel warm liquid roll down your breasts. When you finally feel some strength enter your body you see four bite marks on your shoulder.

Before you can open your mouth, Miguel licks it clean and he slides out of you. You wince and he places you on the bed. From his body language you can tell he was going to bolt.

And you were right he stands up abruptly and he was about to leave but you grab his hand. “Stop. Don’t you dare leave me again.” You say in a command you didn’t know you could muster.

“It’ll be wise for you to let go, amor.” Miguel says in a strange tone. “I’ll let go when I know your aren’t going to leave me…” His shoulders were tense and you stand up trying to look Miguel in the eyes. But he turned his face.

“Miguel look at me.” You say to him. He looks away and this time you reach up and grab a hold of his face. “Look at me, please.” Your voice cracks and he looks down at you.

He had the same face you saw back from the club only this time he looked vulnerable. Your grip on him loosens and you give a gentle smile. “You are so pretty.” You tell him.

He bursts out laugh and you see his four fangs in the moonlight. His laugh was contagious because your started laughing as well. “You, are so odd, amor.” Miguel says as he wipes the corner of his eyes.

“Well I’m sorry I had to say the first thing that came to mind and you look pretty.” Miguel rolls his eyes. “I’m a man, I’m not meant to be pretty.”

You place your hands on your hips. “Well to me you are pretty, Miguel O’Hara.” You smile at him and you take a step forward. Carefully because you don’t know if he still might leave.

“May I?” You ask as you reach up. You can see the hesitation in his face and you reach back. “You don’t have t-” He takes your hands and places them on his face. He slowly opens his mouth and he shows you his teeth. You don’t say a word. Instead you rub your fingers against his four fangs. They feel sharp and they should scare you, but oddly enough you like them.

“Does that mean I’m going to turn into a vampire?” You finally ask. He gets a hold of your hands and he kisses each finger. “No mi corazón, you won’t turn into a vampire, because I am not one.”

“Then what are you?”

“Oh I’m something much worse than that.” You furrow your brows trying to get an answer out of him but he isn’t budging. “Does it hurt? Your fangs?” He shakes his head. “Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to bite you that hard. I was kind of lost in the moment.”

You feel your face get hot as you shake your head. “No, it…felt good.” He crouched down and and study’s your face. “Are you hurt down there?” He asks. You look down at your feet and shake your head again. “No, that felt good too. Could we?”

Miguel laughs again and holds a hand over his stomach. “Of course you’d want to have sex again. And I want to but right now, I’m…a little too excited in another sense. And you look tired.”

“No I’m not.” You yawn and you hate that your body betrayed you. “Come, come. Let’s get you into bed.” He leads you to your bed and helps you in.

“But I have more questions.” You tell him. “I know you do, and I’ll have answers for you in the morning.” He leans down and kisses your forehead and before he leans back you grab his arm. “Miguel…I forgive you.” You tell him.

He gives you a warm smile. “Thank you.” He says as he searches your eyes. “W…will you be there when I wake up?” You ask, not wanting him to leave. Because maybe this is a dream and if it is, you didn’t want to wake up.

“I’ll stay the night. Now give me a second.” You let him go and he looks around the room. He finds his boxers and you watch as he puts them on. He leaves the room for about ten minutes and when he comes back. He hands you a glass of water and he crawls under the covers and lays beside you.

“Is this better?” He asks as you take a sip of water and place the glass on your nightstand. You nod and curl up close to him. You place your hand against his bare chest and maybe it’s the trick of the light or maybe you’re just tired. But you see a ring on your finger as you look at your hand.

You blink and the ring was no longer there. “Night, Miguel.” You whisper as your body relaxes. “Good night, mi amor.” Miguel says as he pulls you close to his body.

The last thing you think of is if this is a dream, you just didn’t want to wake up…

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#miguel o'hara #watsittoyah #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #Tommie Valentine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara x tommie valentine #oscar issac smut #oscar issac hernandez estrada #along came a spider 2099 #along came a spider #miguel o'hara x black reader

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alexanderwales · 1 month ago

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One of the software concepts that I found useful to bring over to writing is the concept of technical debt.

Technical debt is the additional work that gets created when you choose a fast option over a good option. It's "debt" because there's a very good chance that at some point you're going to have to repay it: you hardcode in some variables, deciding that you'll figure out the proper way to do it later, and eventually, surprise! It's later. You have to implement the solution you were putting off. And because you've been using the kludge for so long, sometimes that kludge has become load-bearing, and you have to spend quite a bit of time unraveling and refactoring. One of the reasons it's called debt because you have to pay interest on it.

And the thing is, it's not always wrong to accrue technical debt. Sometimes it helps you get to working on the important thing, and can clarify design details or implementation concerns, and sometimes you can just ship without ever having to do it the "right" way. Sometimes you can wriggle out from under that debt and never suffer any consequences from it, even if there were theoretical consequences when you made the decision to do it the fast way.

The way that this applies to writing is mostly in terms of worldbuilding, character building, and plotting. You can sit down and map a whole novel out without writing a single word, whipping up character bibles and setting details and everything that you might possibly need, all before you write a single word.

... or you can accrue some debt and just gun it, writing as you go, making things up, adding them to some kind of tracking document or just not even doing that.

And as with code, there will come times you have to pay that debt back with interest.

Sometimes you skimp on a character's backstory, and then a few chapters down the road you need to make a decision about it, and suddenly there's a bunch of editorial work as you have to make sure that everything you just decided on matches up with what you've already written. A more extreme example would be writing a mystery novel where you haven't decided on what the answer to the mystery will be until very very late: it would either produce a bad mystery or require tons of rewriting.

As with code, the difficulty is knowing when you're incurring technical debt for a good reason and when you're shooting your future self in the foot.

Here are my rules of thumb for writing, in terms of what's acceptable technical debt:

Plot stuff should not wait. You should have a resolution for your story within the first few chapters of writing that story, and ideally, before you even start.

Everyone (and everything) gets a name the first time it appears. You cannot say "the gardener" a dozen times because you don't want to think of a name for the gardener.

All magic systems and superpowers and whatnot should be rigidly defined before they come onscreen. This doesn't need to be known to the characters, and "soft" magic has less of a requirement, but having rules be thought up midway through a fight scene is essentially the definition of generating technical debt.

Descriptions take little effort to bring into alignment, so can be skipped on first draft, so long as there is a description there. Having descriptions written afterward can help to understand mood and requirements of the scene.

Backstory is really variable, depending on how relevant to the plot it is. If it's going to be driving conflict, it needs to be worked out ahead of time. If it's flavor, it can be winged.

I am, of course, not the best follower of my own advice, and sometimes for very long webfic it's impossible to plan that much in advance. And of course I never go into every work having had every idea I'm going to have, and some of those ideas are good enough to include even if they disrupt a plan and require some refactoring.

#writing

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floylia · 6 months ago

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ELYSIAN ♫

09. Hurt to try

Visiting has never felt more invasive.

A large screen rested in the middle. Two massive, black speakers sat on each side of his desk with a small piano perched on top. A white shelf filled with trinkets and golden awards stood beside his stand-up microphone. An array of purple and silver acoustic panels hung around the wall, and you can’t forget the line of guitars laying in a fashionable order.

“Your studio is cleaner than I thought,” you whispered in awe, eyes bouncing around the small room.

Scara scoffed as he dropped his belongings on the grey sofa near the door, “What did you take me for?”

“A gremlin who never leaves his cave filled with chip wrappers and empty cans of energy drinks,” you shrugged, eyes still wandering.

He rolled his eyes and headed to his desk to start his computer up, “Don’t compare me to Aether.”

“You’re lucky he’s not here.”

“What’s his short ass going to do?”

“You’re the same height.”

“Allegedly,” Scara stood from his seat, urging you to take his spot, “I’ll find another chair, you can sit in mine or look around–I might take a while.”

You went to his shelves. You saw a picture of him when he was younger, wearing a volleyball jersey and holding a trophy with his teamates, one of them you recognized—Childe—they must have been childhood friends.

Then you saw another picture, one with his family. It was his highschool graduation, wearing a cap and gown with a stash that boldly displayed “validictorian,” – his mother, Ei, stood on his left, radiating an elegant smile, while his aunt, Nahida, stood on his right, pinching his cheeks with a mischievous grin. They must have been proud of him.

The next one was 5WIRL’s first concert. They were all young, bright with aspirations, beaming at the large crowd despite being rookies. Beside it, you saw a small octopus plush–Marlin–next to a polaroid picture with you two–a photo you’ve never seen before. You snapped a picture of it.

“[name]—” Scara entered with the chair.

You placed the picture down and trailed him.

“Are those all your songs?” you pointed at the screen.

He shook his head, “There’s more I’d like to do, but I want you to listen to this one.”

He passed you the headphones.

You wore it, “What is it called?”

“Bewitched.”

The song started out slow with a piano. His voice was smooth—different from his usually raspy voice. You took everything in—the lyrics, the melody, and piano. His stare was intense, observing every bit of your reaction.

“Did you like it?” He asked.

You grinned at his expectant face, “I love it, are you adding this? I’d be a crime not to.”

“I was planning on making it my title track,” he paused, “And if you agreed before, I wanted you to finish the second verse.”

“Oh.” It’d be a shame…

“Yeah.”

You stared at the giant screen, “…Can I see the lyrics?”

He flipped through his notebook, you see glances of his other works, scribbles of words and phrases only his brain could think of–one of the many reasons why you admire him.

He gave you the page, “It's a work in progress, but that’s the draft.”

“Can I try?”

Kunikuzushi smiled, “Of course.”

notes:

i lied im more excited for the next chapter (had to break this scene in two)

im on a roll with these updates and then ill ghost again idk jk

synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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Taglist (open!): @aruatsu @magicalink @featuredtofu @scarasbaby @veekoko @scaranthropy @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @vernith @thystarsshine @lily-lmao @lovemari @mellowberrie @kunikuzushis-darling @skyoverkill1 @alatusorrow @kukikoooo @kyon-cherri @keiiqq @tzuw1ce @xiaossocksniffer @kaitfae @infinitetrashbag @lvnalxve @lovelypadisarah @ulquiorraswife @sketcheeee @atyour-kitchencounter @pirate-of-the-dark-seas @neiiuna @sn1perz @kazioli @inelenastyle @hearts4shu @wisheslost @Kazeyozuha @kazumiku @eutopiastar @chemiru @bananasquash @mujiwuji @danhenglovebot @chocolatesandvanilla @boomie-123 @kookiibun @help-whatdoimakemyusername @vavrin @beaniedoodz @misterpoofin @justpeachyteastea @one-and-only-tay @peaceindreams @strxwberryfetish @shutingstar @projectsfantasy @quacking-simp @morgyyyyyyy @cante-lope @k-cris

#ELYSIAN #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin idol au #genshin fluff #kunikuzushi #genshin modern au #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader

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tyunkus · 2 years ago

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perv

pairing: bf!huening kai x fem!reader summary: maybe kai is more of a pervert than he lets on. maybe you like it.

wc: 2.2k

warnings: reader is fem!bodied and referred to as a girl multiple times!!! dont read if that makes u uncomfy pls! there is also: established relationship, both of you are horny af Thus the references to being a perv and whatnot, making out, LOTS OF BEGGING from both reader n hyuka kinda, dirty talk (praise with elements of degradation n humiliation), pet names (baby, angel, good girl), penetrative, No condom (practice safe sex lovelies), not rly breeding but breeding-adjacent (hyuka comes inside u <3), some stuttering i guess cuz kai is nervous n opening up his sexual horizons but it’s all cute and mushy, kai talks a lot in this he can’t shut up ur pussy’s too perfect babe

note: less plot than amazon wishlist sorry hehe i just wanted to write cutesy kai trying his hand at dirty talk with his perfect sexy gf (you)! i love him so bad guys i tried to portray him as best as possible but i might have failed miserably and if i did you’re allowed to egg my house ALSOOOO kinda rushed and not proofread and unbeta-ed im so sorry the ending SUCKSSSS

ALSO! if you were wondering why it seems familiar i based this ask off of the draft for this

“Can I kiss you?” Kai asks.

He always asks first, even though he knows you will always say yes. And you always feel so fluttery whenever he does, even though you’ve kissed him so many times now his lips feel familiar when they nudge against yours. It usually starts out like this—just the two of you on his bed, straddling his hips as he looks up at you. He says it’s his favorite perspective of you, which you’re not sure you understand. But Kai is always firm in his opinions of you, so you don’t mind.

“Please, please,” you say, and so he does, lips slotting against yours, soft, soft. Kai makes a quiet noise, reaches up to brush away your hair. His hands, so large and warm where he keeps them on your waist, just above your hip.

“So pretty. My pretty baby,” he murmurs, and your heart sings. You bunch your hands up in his shirt, breathe him in. You want to bite him.

“Kai. Kai.”

“Yes? Hm?”

“Please. I want—I want—” The worst part is you can’t even verbalize what you want, either, but you’re squirming and panting on his lap, lips slick with his spit, and there’s honestly not many messages that those movements could possibly allude to other than I want your cock. “I—please, Kai, ah.”

“Gonna make me crazy,” Kai says, voice teetering on a whine. “Your noises. So cute. Want more, pretty? More?”

You kiss him again, drinking in his words, running your hands through his hair. Cute, cute. He’s breathing heavily, nose bumping against your cheek. Hours, you could spend hours just kissing him. Cute. You don’t realize you say it out loud until Kai makes a high noise at the back of his throat.

“Angel—so beautiful—I wanna—ah, can I, please—”

You take his wrist, guide his hand to the waistband of your pajamas. “Can you?” you ask, almost beg, your fingers trembling where they fold around his wrist. “Kai, please, I want you to touch me.”

You trail off when you see Kai’s expression, tentative and unsure. “Baby,” he whispers, tipping you down towards him so he can press a mountain of kisses against the column of your throat. His hand brushes over the hem of your underwear, soothing the divide between skin and bright pink lace. The warmth of his hand ghosts over you, where you ache the most, and you try not to sound too pathetic when you whine. “Baby, baby, shh, you know I want to.”

“Then do it,” you plead, your legs practically shaking with how badly you want it. Need it. You could hate him for not giving it to you. You could, but Kai likes good girls, and that’s what you are. What you want to be.

“Be a good girl,” Kai instructs, gently, his voice wavering still. There it is—Kai’s kinks slipping through the cracks. Finally, after you had to go through all the work to shatter it yourself. He’s still so shy about it, sounding so unsure when he talks dirty to you, but you can tell he finds it hot, with how red his cheeks get. “Not now, baby. Be good for me, don’t you want to be good?”

“Please,” you plead, completely ignoring him, inching the tips of your fingernails up and down his chest, his shoulders, his throat. You lean down until your face is practically buried in his hair, and you can feel his breath hit your tummy, his hands pressing down on your waist. “Kaaaaaiiiiii.”

But he only giggles brightly, face breaking into a smile against your skin. He loves this, gets off on this dynamic—you are normally the one taking the lead, but in here, like this, it’s Kai who gets to play with you the way he wants, coax reactions out of you with every touch. Treat you like a princess, be in charge, because it’s only in bed that he wants to. You can order him around during the daytime as much as you like, as long as he gets to fuck you up the way he wants.

“Want it that bad, sweetheart?” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your tummy. “So bad you’re practically gagging for it, huh? Want something else to gag on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Shut up,” you cry, heart fluttering at the way he giggles right after. “Fuck me first, please, I want it so bad.”

Kai coos at you, rubbing his hands along the sides of your thighs. “I know, baby, I know. Let me flip you over, sweetheart, I’ll take care of my cute baby.” And so he does, gently lifting you off of his crotch and letting you land softly on your back; he slides you a glittering smile, then settles his hands between your legs once again. “Want me to finger you first?”

You nod. “Anything, want anything. Please. Just you.”

Kai hums. “Anything? What if I made you get– get off on my thigh, hm? I…” He trails off here, steadies his breath. You can see the way his gaze trails down your body, hungry, wanting. “What if I used one of your cute toys on you, took it away right before you came? Would you… would you still want that?”

“Don’t care, Kai, just want you—you can do anything, anything, please—”

Kai groans and buries his face in your neck, thumbing over your clothed cunt. “F-fuck, baby,” he rumbles against your skin, feeling his fingertips dip inside you, slippery with your wetness. “So worked up over— over just a bit of touching, fuck, what a cute baby. So horny for me, for my cock, right?”

You let out a moan, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers. “Mhm, yes, Kai. Give me, give it to me.”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Kai presses a kiss to your cheek, so unfitting and filthy compared to his fingers rubbing over you. He pulls back slightly to look you in the eye. You can sense the flicker of nervousness underneath. “I’m not gonna last very long. Probably. ’S that okay?”

“That’s fine,” you breathe. “I don’t care. Just… I just want you inside of me.”

“I can do that,” Kai chokes, and you laugh. “Could I– could I fuck you like this?”

“Like what?”

Kai pokes your waist. “Missionary?” he says like it’s an offer, the corners of his lips rising when you squirm. “I want to see your face while I fuck you. You always look so pretty like that.”

Your cheeks heat and you look away. “You’re a perv. But okay, sure.”

“You’re the perv. Got all horny when we we’re just making out.” He presses a wet kiss to your cheek. “What if I had just wanted to kiss you, huh? Just some pure, innocent making out.”

“Sorry. You get me all worked up.”

Kai giggles. “I know. Love hearing you say it.” He hums while he takes off his sweatpants, and you do the same—you’re still tugging off your shirt when you feel his fingers brush against the clasp of your bra.

“You desperate?” you tease, letting him take it off for you.

Kai nods solemnly, moving down so his bare hips are parallel to yours. “Hell yeah,” he says, but you’re looking so intently at his cock that you forget to laugh. “Quit staring, perv.”

“You’re so annoying,” you shoot back, but there’s no bite, and he only smiles, taking the base of his cock to align himself with you. There’s a bare second of quiet, where you can hear both of your breaths, bated and waiting, and you can see the desperation—the hunger—in Kai’s face.

“Can I put it in now, baby?” he breathes. “Please? F-fuck, please?”

Shit. You might go insane if he keeps this up, begging prettily for you before he even gets his cock inside. You whine and nod, breath hitching when his fingers graze your tits. “Please, Kai,” you whimper. “Please, yes, please.”

Kai grabs the base of his cock again and eases the tip past your folds, his heart beating wildly. He breathes heavily, his other hand steady on your hip, so large compared to your smaller frame. “Jesus fucking Christ. You feel so good,” he says, trying not to sound too whiny when he barely put it in, but you don’t even notice, trembling beneath him. His brows furrow, lost in your warmth, but he manages to muster a smile. “You okay, angel?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is high and reedy. Your hands bunch up in the sheets. “Put—more, more, please.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he responds, sounding on the verge of tears, because he quite honestly is about to cry with how tight you feel already. He eases more in, slowly, letting you take it in inch by inch, relishing in the feeling. A few moments pass and your hips finally meet; you let out twin sighs of relief. Kai leans over to mouth at your shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Shiiit, baby, you feel fucking good.”

You only moan in response, almost drooling onto the sheets. Kai stays still for a while, letting you get used to it, marvelling at how wet you are.

“Shit, I could be inside you forever. Oh, fuck. W-would you let me? Hm? Ah, would you let me—shit—fuck this t-tight cunt everyday? Want me to be inside you all the time, right? Isn’t that right, baby?” Kai taps your cheek and you just sob, backing your hips against his desperately. Kai lets out a giggle, and it’s so high-pitched and out of place you would probably scold him if you were in any other state of mind.

Alas, instead you’re trembling beneath him as he pounds you, whining and drooling on the sheets because his cock feels so good. It should be embarrassing. It definitely is. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“You’re a f-fucking pervert,” you whine.

Kai breaks into a smile, so wide and so fucking proud of himself. You can tell, even through your hazy mind, and it makes your heart swell. “Shit, I must have a good fuckin’ cock if I got you all f-fucked up like this,” he murmurs, using his free hand to play with your nipples. “I love you so much, angel. Love making you feel good.” The filth falls so easily from his mouth that it’s hard for you to believe that not one hour ago Kai was struggling to even call you a good girl.

“Luh—fuck, love you too, Kai,” you wail, bringing your hands up to splay across your face. “Please, please keep going, f-feels so good—”

“You’re so shy,” Kai whispers, his expression melting into a grin. He reaches up, pinches your cheeks. “How are you still so shy, hm? Your pussy is weeping onto my cock and you’re acting like this? So cute. Wanna fuck you so hard.”

“You already are,” you whine, reaching up to slap weakly at his chest. “Fuck, why are you t-talking so much?”

Kai giggles again. “Feels so good, that’s why. Your pussy’s making my brain melt. Fuck.” He gives a particularly hard thrust here, then moves his hand to rub over your tummy. “’M gonna come soon. Love you—I love you so much. Where do you want it, angel? Inside?”

“Mmm—yeah, fuck, please.”

“Gonna fuck you til your pussy’s all white and mine, alright? Fuck it back into you so it stays there, ffff-fuck, baby, I love you, thank you, I love you so mu— fuck—”

Wet heat inside you and a soft breath against the side of your neck—you feel his head drop onto your shoulder before his hand reaches over to your clit. His hips shift and he pulls out, only to move down between your legs and give your pussy a soft, almost kittenish lick. “G’na come f’me, too, angel,” he murmurs around your pussy, and you can see the hints of a smile gracing his face when your legs close around his head and muss up his hair. “Come on, please, please, want you to come—”

He lolls out his tongue and buries his face deeper in between your thighs, and it only takes a few mor licks, sucks, and the steady pump of his fingers before you’re coming, legs trembling around his ears and hands tangled in his messy hair. Your hips buck up into the air but his lips still follow, chasing the taste, and you whine from the overstimulation.

When he pulls away, a string of spit follows. He can’t move far before you’re grabbing him and pulling him into a kiss, smiling against his teeth when he lets out a small oof. He’s on top of you now, hand cupping your cheek.

“Love you,” Kai murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love you so much. You okay? You’re making a face.”

You are. “Sorry—one of your plushies—Molang, I’m like, sitting on it—”

“Oh!” You lift your hips and Kai reaches underneath your torso to retrieve his blue penguin Molang pushie. He smiles down at you. “Were you on it the entire time?”

“No, I think it fell while you were eating me out and somehow ended up underneath me.”

Kai grins and nuzzles his face into your neck. “You were arching your back that much? Did it feel that good?”

“I think this concerns the amount of plushies you have, not your stroke game—”

“My pussy eating game, actually.”

You throw another Molang plushie at his face. It’s soft, just like his cheeks when he smiles at you and they get all squishy, just like his lips when you tug him down for another kiss.

#huening kai smut #huening kai hard hours #huening kai hard thoughts #huening kai x reader #hyuka hard hours #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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summercourtship · 22 days ago

Text

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open.

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly.

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town.

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?”

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.”

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.”

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time.

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought.

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination.

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.”

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee.

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you.

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask.

“Tomorrow.”

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.”

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street.

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows.

“...Go away.”

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t.

“What do you want?”

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room.

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim.

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there.

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both).

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens.

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using.

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn.

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head.

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room.

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you.

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him.

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly.

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it.

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else.

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you.

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.”

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again.

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?”

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours.

“I didn’t. I don’t.”

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive.

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek?

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts.

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again.

“Stay still.”

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens.

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips.

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently?

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin.

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body.

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt.

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit.

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment.

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation.

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth.

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool.

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.”

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it.

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore.

#i feel like my danny has become more sedated over time #danny jed olsen johnson x reader #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #danny #danny jed olsen johnson #dbd x reader #dbd fanfic

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mt-oe · 3 months ago

Note

Hi!!! Hope you're still doing alright because you said you were writing in the hospital 😭💦 whatever happens I hope you will recover soon and keep yourself safe/stay healthy!

And I want to say that I really like the way you write about Mizu, you write it in a way that doesn't look OOC and makes me feel like I'm in the story, through the way you write I can feel how much you spent. time and love to complete a story and I really enjoyed it 😭‼️ I'm a picky person when it comes to choosing fics to read about Mizu but your stories blew me away! ! I hope that in the future you will continue to give love to Mizu and continue to write Mizu x reader stories like that and I will continue to support you 😭🫶

Also, I have this idea I wanted to share it's about the reader being someone active on the internet like she always caught the trend and filming clips online like on tiktok or some, and sometimes makes videos with Akemi! She's always looked like a carefree person but in her private draft, she posts a lot of vids if not say all of them are about Mizu or Mizu and her. There's a video it writes "Wife reveal" on top and under is a clip of Mizu doing the random thing ever, and other are videos she posts about how much she loves Mizu and there are videos of their date. No one knows about this private video of her but some random day when the reader leaves the phone alone with Mizu, she gets bored and just wants to take a peek, the reader gives Mizu the password of her phone anyway and she sees all those videos, and gets all blushy when the reader gets back she being a tease and all, when Mizu ask why the reader leave it private she just said it's not like she doesn't like posting about Mizu, she does have public videos about Mizu and her, but those private clips look cringe and stuff, Mizu laughs at the reader cuteness and after they cuddling and get all lovey-dovey.

The rest is really up to you because I want to see more of Mizu's reaction or sum.

I just wanna share my idea, sorry if this gets long 😭‼️ please feel free to write this at any time if you find it interesting, I use Google Translate so I am sorry if there are grammar mistakes my English is not good 🥹 and remember to take care of yourself first!!💖💖

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for all the love /// I'm so happy to receive such kind words. Sometimes I think I'm really bad at writing fanfics since my English isn't that good either and I often find myself comparing my works to others, but messages like these make me turn into goo and I'm so glad that my efforts are able to make you happy.

To those who sent kind messages too, I'm sorry for not replying to them in this manner. I like to go back to them when I feel a bit down about my writing so I want to avoid the hassle of having to scroll through my works ;; All of you really cheer me up I swear <3

How do I even recover from how much I'm melting ///

Please take care of yourself too and I hope that everyone continues to love Mizu too <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note/s: username mentioned is fake

Giggles and the sound of soft conversations filled with laughter and genuine excitement enveloped the small cafe you had decided to go to with your friend as a way to relax before finals started. The two of you had decided to go on a journaling date together and were excitedly taking pictures of your setup.

"But wouldn't it be cuter if we put the coffee here instead?"

"Let's see—oh shit the ice is melting. Could you pass the napkin?"

"Here. Hurry!"

"W-Wait it might drip on the stickers"

After a bit of fuss, a relieved sigh could be heard from the two of you before the soft clink of the coffee cup being placed on the table. The two of you checked how the setup would look under the camera before Akemi flashed you a thumbs up.

With her signal, both of you started taking pictures and videos. Ideas on how you were going to edit the clips were already running through your mind. "Are you going to use a template or no?" you asked, turning to face your friend.

Lowering down her phone, Akemi put a contemplative look on her face before shrugging. "I saw someone do a cute new edit on Tiktok. I want to try it but it might not fit my feed's aesthetic soooo I'm not sure. What do you think?"

"Wait let me see." She opened up the app before tapping on the video to show you. After watching the video, you looked at her with an equally contemplative face. "I think you're better off editing from scratch. It totally doesn't fit your feed."

"Awww damnit," she sighed with a playful smile on her face. You stuck your tongue out at her, scrunching your nose, a smile tugging up your lips at her laughter.

Friendly dates like these were definitely one of your favorite things in the world. It all started during freshman year when you had just moved in town and had absolutely no one to talk to. Luckily, your seat mate was quite the angel and had talked to you first.

At first, you were quite shy, especially considering how your hobby of vlogging and editing things was something you thought was cringe to say out loud. However, to your surprise, Akemi was more than supportive and even helped you in setting up an Instagram account just for your reels. Through her encouragement, you started gaining the courage to try photo editing and your interest in sharing and documenting the events in your life through posting on social media snowballed into an even bigger hobby.

An hour more of chatting and planning your next content, the sound of a motorbike could be heard before the wind chime by the cafe's entrance rang softly. The soft scraping of wood against wood creaked behind you before the sound of someone setting their things down. You didn't need to look back to know that your girlfriend had arrived and just didn't want to interrupt the conversation. Who knows? Maybe she was listening in on it too.

You met Mizu a few years ago in a college party. Akemi had invited you to come since you opened up to her that you were having a difficult time getting to know other people. However, the sweat, the smell of booze mixed with something you could not identify, along with being pushed by the people dancing and moving around was too much for you. Before your friend could drag you along to meet another person, you were already out the door, smoking in the yard.

Meeting someone who had the same idea as you was the least thing you expected to happen, but that's exactly what happened. As you sat down on the garden chair, you heard the soft scraping of another chair pulled beside you. Your eyes scanned the figure, observing their features.

Tall, handsome, quite cold, but at the same time, alluring.

If the night was a person, you were pretty sure they would look like this.

Feeling your gaze, the stranger turned to look at you, making you turn away. However, unable to resist, your eyes glanced at them before going back to pack of cigarettes you had brought only to find out that you had none left. Groaning, you pocketed the empty pack, hand toying with your lighter.

Though the person with you didn't seem to want to talk to you, she suddenly lifted up her own pack for you to get one of her's. You looked at her, taking her nod of approval as a sign to get one. An incredibly awkward silence took both of you as you placed the cigarette between your lips and lit it up.

Taking a deep hit out of it, you cleared your throat slightly before looking up at her. "Seven Stars? I never heard of this brand before," you tried to strike up a conversation, body tense as hell. You internally cursed yourself for even trying to break the ice and possibly making the scene more awkward than it already was.

Immediately, her sharp blue eyes snapped to look at you, burning holes into you, seemingly studying your features. The few seconds that seemed like an eternity to you finally passed and she lit her own cigarette up.

"Yeah, it's from Japan," she replied, blowing a puff of smoke out. Your eyes widen a bit at the sound of her voice. You had expected something a bit deeper, maybe a little less rough? But god, her voice was more attractive than you expected. "I...I see," you replied, instantly regretting how weak you sounded.

Silence and the sound of your exhales were the only sounds of that enveloped both of you. With the newfound attraction you had for this stranger, you mustered up the courage to speak again. "So what brings you here?" you asked, trying to strike up another conversation. She let out a soft grunt as she looked over at you again. "A friend dragged me here."

Her eyes widened as the sound of your laughter reached her ears. Raising an eyebrow, she turned to look at you with a seemingly annoyed expression. "What?" You shook your head at her before taking in another puff. "Sorry, sorry. I just didn't expect us to be in the same situation," you replied, noting how her features softened.

To your surprise, an almost unseen smile ghosted her lips. "A pain, isn't it?" she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Oh tell me about. I'm almost scared to drink whatever they mixed in there," you joked. The sound of her laughter warmed your cheeks, the warmth and silk-like smoothness of her chuckles melting you.

"Want to stay here instead?"

"Sure."

After the little exchange, both of you found out that the same friend dragged both of you to the party. Through Akemi's help, the two of you were able to meet more often, exchanging contact information and messaging each other. One thing led to another and soon you found Mizu handing you a bunch of flowers, asking you to be her girlfriend.

Surprisingly enough, despite being extremely introverted and closed off, Mizu was extremely supportive of your hobby. At the start of your relationship, you were very hesitant to ask her for help. Though you wanted to take cute clips of your dates, you'd resort to hiding it from her, taking videos from discrete angles.

But nothing really gets past Mizu's eyes.

She definitely confronted you for it which led to you explaining your hobby and showing her your accounts. As expected, she was a bit skeptical about it at first. But soon enough, she found herself watching your clips, reels, and vlogs on her free time, while she ate, before she slept. Now, she's the one suggesting to go on cute dates for you to film, for you to go out with your friends so you could film cute and trendy dances together, and even hold the camera for you. She even learned all your 'good' angles and learned how to take videos and pictures of you. The surprise on your face when she first insisted that you took photos of your food was priceless.

Out of pure curiosity, she'd sometimes ask if she could see your account using your phone. It was a silly request but you always obliged since you had nothing to hide after all. Her heart would swell with all the traction your posts got. She loved that so many people loved her girlfriend too.

Of course, you dragged her in some of your videos too, making sure that they weren't too awkward for her. Simple matching OOTD fits videos, giving her a short moment in your vlogs, and cute couple trends that weren't too cheesy. You always made sure to ask her for consent to put clips of her in your videos, making them as short or as long as she allowed and only showing the clips she was comfortable with.

Though there were times when your love for her would become overwhelming and you just have the urge to edit cute clips of her. You thought Mizu wouldn't really appreciate so much of herself seen on your public accounts so you secretly made a private account just to dump all those videos in. Videos of her cooking (and sort of failing), during training, and more random clips during your dates. There were some cute ones and some that were definitely heating the place up.

Mizu would never know about this though. You didn't like keeping secrets from your girlfriend, but this one would be your only exception.

The coffee in your cups soon emptied and sticker sheets were exchanged as you and Akemi finished up your little get together. After exchanging your goodbyes and waiting for Akemi's driver to fetch her, Mizu helped you put your helmet on before helping you up her motorbike to go home.

As soon as the two of you got home, you wasted no time telling her everything that happened. From the drinks you ordered to the gossips about Akemi's ex-boyfriend, you did not miss a single detail. And though Mizu appeared uninterested, you could tell by the way her body subtly turned towards you as she cleaned up a bit that she was interested.

After tidying up a bit, the two of you sat in front of the television with you on the carpet with your laptop, editing the clips you took, and Mizu on the sofa watching the new episode of the series she discovered.

Some time later, your girlfriend grew uninterested in the series she was watching and had started taking breaks from it more often, standing up to do random things such as making coffee, bringing you snacks, giving you a random plushie from your shared bedroom.

A small snort left your lips as you watched her refill your coffee for the nth time. "Love...if you're so bored with the show, you can just drop it," you snickered at her, gratefully taking the mug from her and taking a sip. Your lover let out a soft exhale from her nose and rolled her eyes. "I'm not bored," she argued, sitting back down on the sofa. "They're just talking an awful lot."

"Well you need to listen through it if you want to understand their lore." You took another sip of the hot liquid and set the mug down on the coffee table. You could hear her huff from behind you, probably rolling her eyes again. "I don't need to know all this to predict who dies next."

You laugh at her impatience, responding with an eyeroll of your own. Feeling the urge to relieve yourself, you stood up and stretched. "Could you hold on to this for a second? I'll be quick," you said, handing her your phone. She quickly yet carefully took the device in her hand, giving you a small nod before you went to the bathroom.

Mizu sighed and leaned back on the sofa. Though she did deny being bored, she was definitely bored out of her wits. She wanted to see fighting and cool scenes, not a bunch of dialogues. Wasn't action scenes the point of watching action shows?

Unable to take it, she picked up your phone and unlocked it. None of you minded going through each other's phone. It wasn't something the two of you did out of mistrust, but rather, just to check the random things that went through each other's feed out of sheer boredom and curiosity. The difference in content was entertaining, okay?

Tapping on the Tiktok app, Mizu fully expected a plethora of cat videos and celebrity edits to come. However, to her surprise, the account that was open was not one that she was familiar with. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

wife.dump was the username shown on the profile. Her confusion continued to escalate as she saw the profile picture which was a flower that she recognized as the one she gave you when she asked you to be hers.

Clarity soon took the situation as curiosity got the best of her and she started snooping around the account, looking through the liked videos, then the reposts, and finally the private videos saved in the account. At first, the likes and reposts seemed pretty normal, mostly about cats and how to cook certain foods. But then, as she got to the videos, she realized that it was all...her.

Her making breakfast.

Her making coffee.

Her fixing her motorcycle.

Her, her, and her.

All the videos were edited so cutely too. Admittedly, she wasn't as good as editing as you but she could still definitely see how well these videos were made. From the color grading, sequencing, and even the song choice and timing. Each video with a cute caption talking about what was going on in the video or just plain talking about the things you love about her. She could tell you put a lot of effort into these.

Seriously.

How cute could you be?

Her eyes darted to the bathroom door, checking to see if you were about to go back, then back to your phone. She continued to watch each videos, a dust of pink on her cheeks deepening with each one.

'Wife reveal' and its a video of her doing random things. A clip of her frowning while looking for you, then smiling once she spots you. A clip of her looking a bit nervous as you show the extremely (almost dangerously) red looking chicken wings she cooked. A clip of her keeping a straight face during a round of poker.

She didn't even know some of these clips existed.

Just as she was about to watch the next one, the sound of your strangled whine surprised her. Setting the phone down in one quick motion, her eyes lit up like a deer caught in headlights at the sight of your surprised yet extremely embarrassed face.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you almost screamed, charging towards her and scrambling to get your phone back. Immediately, your lover got up and reached the phone away from you. "Love! Stop it!" you whined at her, feeling your face heat up from sheer embarrassment.

A smirk crept up her lips at your continuous attempt to grab your phone back. The embarrassment and panic continued to bubble through your system as you tried pushing her back down onto the sofa which was definitely a challenge in itself with a girlfriend who took a bachelor's degree in strength building, major in roughhousing, minor in being a rascal.

Several attempts later, the reality of your lover's incredibly strong build sunk in as you tried catching your breath, glaring up at her. Her clear blue eyes, hinted with a bit of mischief, stared back at you before she opened her mouth to speak.

"Wife reveal, huh?" she teased, chuckling as you groaned out loud.

Defeat took over you and you found yourself wrapping your arms around her with your head on her chest. "You're annoying," you huffed at her, words lacking seriousness.

A deep chuckle reverberated from her throat and slowly, she set your phone down to wrap her arms around you as well. "That's no way to talk to your wife," she teased, voice softer than before. You pursed your lips at her and snuggled against her chest. "You better sleep with one eye open, love," you playfully threatened, making her laugh.

You wouldn't admit it but you were relieved that Mizu didn't react badly upon finding out about your secret account.

"With what I've just seen, I hardly think you could do anything harsh especially to me," she teased back, slowly pulling you down onto the sofa with her, guiding you to her lap. "Why did you keep your little secret a secret from me though?"

You looked at her and sighed, blush deepening a bit more. "It's just...you're such a private person and I didn't want to overstep your boundaries," you admitted. "But I couldn't help it, especially when I rewatch the clips I took and you're just...urgh.."

Her hold on you tightened as you snuggled further against her body, warmth running deeper than just physical. "You're just so gorgeous," you finished, sighing deeply. "Every time I see you, it feels like my heart turns into a goopy mess. Even the little things you do is so..so...It's so fucking cute."

The mischievous, teasing smile on her face softened with your explanation. A huge part of her was glad that you found her so damn attractive that you couldn't help yourself and the other part was almost in disbelief. Did you seriously find her that attractive?

Damnit, you're so fucking cute.

Mizu ran her fingers through your hair, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. A bit of silence going on between the two of you before she gently kissed the top of your head reassuringly. "Love, I don't mind," she said with a soft fond smile. "It's quite adorable, actually."

"But aren't you uncomfortable?" you asked, finger tracing down her throat, feeling the soft vibrations as she chuckled. "I could take it down if you feel off about it."

Her heart swelled at how much you cared for her own comfort and for considering her so much. All she could think of was how lucky she was to have such a caring lover. Taking your hand in hers, she placed small kisses against the pads on your fingers, each tender and loving.

"I could never be uncomfortable with something that brings you so much joy."

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