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vincinnamontoast · 2 days ago

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𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 CAITVI X READER SFW & NSFW HCS 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

word count: 3.4k

contains: my random unorganized caitvi x reader hcs. lowercase intended, lightly proofread, nsfw towards the end. sorry this took me forever (</3)

❥ caitlyn is so insistent on you and vi quitting your jobs and just being her cute little housewives

❥ caitlyn keeps track of all of your periods, always making sure you have enough snacks and pads/tampons.

❥ all of you get a bit snippy with each other during your periods—because, unfortunately, they’ve synced up. But no matter how catty things get, you’re always there to take care of each other.

❥ vi loves to cook and caitlyn likes to clean up after. they’ll ask you to do little things like cut the carrots while you all yap

❥ caitlyn sleeps pretty early while you and vi stay up running around together. you try to be quiet for her but you and vi have each other cackling every 5 seconds. eventually you both are kicked out of the bedroom and have to continue your giggly shenanigans in the living room

❥ vi is the most physically affectionate, always wrapping an arm around you or caitlyn, pulling you into her lap, or resting her chin on your shoulder. caitlyn shows her affection in subtle ways—brushing your hair out of your face, fixing vi’s collar absentmindedly, always making sure you’re both taken care of.

❥ they both gang up on you when you’re flustered. If you blush, you’re done for.

❥ if you get cold at night, caitlyn will tuck an extra blanket around you, and vi will just throw herself on top of you like a human furnace.

❥ vi insists on braiding caitlyn’s hair but gets distracted halfway through and just leaves it half-done. caitlyn tries to act like she doesn’t care, but she secretly waits for you to fix it.

❥ caitlyn makes vi fancy cocktails and tea, even though she always complains it’s too strong or not strong enough. but vi always drinks it anyway.

❥ vi hates to admit it but she can’t sleep without either of you and a little night light in the corner (my baby girl ugh)

❥ vi tends to leave her boots and gauntlets lying around. you and caitlyn have tripped over them too many times. And unfortunately for you and caitlyn, vi loves her punishments

❥ vi fidgets constantly. If she’s not cracking her knuckles, she’s bouncing her knee or clicking a pen until caitlyn snatches it away.

❥ vi is always teasing you when she realizes something makes you flustered. she will never let it go.

❥ caitlyn tends to overthink everything. vi and you have to stop her from spiraling into a “logical” breakdown over simple things.

❥ caitlyn gets very particular about how things are arranged—her tea set, books, weapons. vi purposely moves things just to annoy her, which leads to you getting onto vi and caitlyn whining/fussing.

❥ caitlyn is secretly a perfectionist. If she cooks for you, she’ll throw out an entire batch if it doesn’t look right, even if it tastes fine.

❥ vi loves to bake and will randomly come back after a couple hours with a bunch of cookies and pastries for you all to share with a big smile on her face

❥ vi and caitlyn tend to stare at you a lot. caitlyn doesn’t do it nearly as much as vi does, but they are both mutually obsessed.

❥ vi is always humming or singing some song softly when she does like literally anything around the house. she loves when you follow her around to hear it (bc yes this bitch can sing.)

❥ they’re both incredibly protective—sometimes to an intense degree. It’s never their intention to be overbearing, but after everything they’ve lost, losing each other would be unbearable. they’re not willing to take that risk.

❥ vi plays with your hair all the time, whether it’s running her fingers through it or twirling a strand absentmindedly.

❥ vi games a lot and begs you to play with her. If you don’t, she’ll insist you and caitlyn are close. caitlyn will be reading or scrolling through her pinterest, while playing with your hair. (she can be on that app forever.) listening to vi yell and rage quit is just a part of your everyday life.

❥ If you or caitlyn are standing next to vi, she’ll always have a hand on you—your waist, your hip, the back of your neck. It’s like a grounding thing for her. physical touch is a big need of hers.

❥ vi struggles with separation anxiety, though she does her best to hide it and refuses to admit it. still, when you or caitlyn are busy or absent, she catches herself fidgeting—twitching her fingers, bouncing her leg, and blinking back tears she doesn’t want to shed.

❥ vi deliberately calls you the most ridiculous pet names just to see your reaction. “hey, sugar lips.” “vi, please.” she’s shameless, fully aware of how cringe she is—and she loves every second of it.

❥ vi is always trying to sneak kisses when you’re distracted.

❥ caitlyn brings you and vi tea in the mornings, adjusting it exactly how you like it.

❥ vi is better at comforting through actions, hugging, cooking, kissing, cleaning, and caitlyn is better with her words. they will give you both but they are better in certain areas in their own ways.

❥ the advice caitlyn gives is always the best, she loves hearing you rant and complain. vi does too, but she spaces out sometimes.

❥ caitlyn writes little notes for you both, usually sweet but sometimes sarcastic. (“vi, if you leave your boots in the hallway one more time…”) she’ll pack you both lunches with cute little sticky notes.

❥ caitlyn gets really quiet when she’s worried, but she’ll hover around you and vi until you ask what’s wrong.

❥ you and vi secretly love getting scolded by caitlyn.

❥ caitlyn likes to have some space after an argument; vi does not. caitlyn needs time to breathe and collect herself—it never takes too long, but vi wants things fixed immediately. she always caves first, apologizing even when it’s not her fault. and every time, it breaks both of your hearts.

❥ caitlyn will brush her fingers over your knuckles or the inside of your wrist absentmindedly, like she’s memorizing the feeling.

❥ vi tends to lean against walls, arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool—but if you or caitlyn walk by, she immediately straightens up like a puppy looking for attention.

❥ caitlyn carries herself with elegance, but when she’s comfortable, she relaxes—crosses her legs lazily, rests her head on your shoulder, lets herself just be.

❥ vi cannot keep her mouth shut or hide her expressions. baby is naturally expressive, so even when she insists she’s not upset, it’s obvious—the way she pouts, puffs her cheeks, and huffs under her breath gives her away every time.

❥ vi will spam call and triple or more text, while caitlyn will call or text twice at most to get your attention. but you can bet your ass you’ll be getting a mini lecture about not picking up her calls. you know something is wrong if you have more than 3 missed calls from her.

❥ they’re both highly observant, picking up on even the smallest details of your mannerisms.

❥ caitlyn has a very subtle smirk when she’s amused, and you and vi live to make it appear.

❥ caitlyn always bites her lip when she’s thinking, while vi taps her fingers against whatever surface is nearby.

❥ vi would absolutely fight anyone who looks at you wrong. caitlyn, meanwhile, will just ruin them socially. a terrifying duo truly.

❥ vi carries you if you’re tired. no hesitation. “c’mon, baby, you’re walking too slow.” she is a bit of a fast walker.

❥ vi would take a punch for you without thinking. caitlyn would make sure you never get into that situation in the first place.

❥ vi lives to make you laugh. she gets so excited to hear you cackle and giggle. and she knows she’s funny asf too.

❥ late nights when caitlyn has work in the morning (vi does too, but she loves staying up), you and vi roll into each other—kissing, giggling, playing games. you beg caitlyn to stay up, but once it hits 11 PM, she struggles to keep her eyes open.

❥ caitlyn sleeps early and wakes up early. vi, on the other hand, stays up late but still manages to wake up early—a leftover habit from prison. but if caitlyn doesn’t get her full eight hours, you can expect her to be moody and pouty all day.

❥ If you have a bad day, caitlyn will make you tea and quietly listen while vi pulls you into her arms and presses little kisses to your hair until you feel better.

❥ vi loves making caitlyn laugh—really laugh. It’s rare, but when it happens, she looks at caitlyn like she just won the lottery.

❥ caitlyn lets vi be reckless only to a point—then she pulls rank. “vi, no.” vi groans but listens.

❥ vi hates dressing up, but if you or caitlyn ask nicely? yeah, she’ll do it. she’ll grumble the whole time, but she’ll do it.

❥ vi walks on the outside of the sidewalk, keeps an arm around your waist in crowds, subtly but firmly making sure you’re safe at all times.

❥ caitlyn is more of a silent protector. she notices things before they become threats, watches your surroundings like a hawk, and is always one step ahead.

❥ vi has a terrible habit of pulling you onto her lap, no matter where you are. she’ll just grab your waist and plop you down.

❥ caitlyn is more likely to respect your privacy, but if you’re heading to the bathroom, expect vi to be right on your tail—watching you pee. deadass.

❥ vi loves hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about. even if she doesn’t understand half of it, she just grins and watches you like you hung the stars.

❥ vi always finds the stupidest excuses to get your attention. “baby, come here.” “what is it?” “…nothing, just missed you.”

❥ vi is obsessed with forehead kisses, especially when she’s feeling soft. It’s her way of saying, I love you without words. melts when you kiss and squish her cheeks.

❥ she lovesss being babied, which you and caitlyn love doing.

❥ If you’re wearing something cute or whatever? vi wolf-whistles and dramatically fans herself. caitlyn groans in the background. “vi, please.” caitlyn comes behind you to kiss below your ear “mmm so beautiful, sweetheart.”

❥ vi sulks when she’s sick and will only take medicine if you or caitlyn give it to her. “I’ll take it if you kiss me after.” caitlyn is the best caregiver when the both of you are sick, you will feel better in no time.

❥ If vi is feeling needy, she’ll flop down on top of you with zero warning. “what are you doing?” “dunno. just love you.” because you will give her attention. she is very puppy.

❥ caitlyn tucks your hair behind your ear so gently it makes your heart ache. she does it every time—even if it wasn’t in your face.

❥ If you fall asleep somewhere uncomfortable, caitlyn will immediately move to fix it. you wake up to a pillow under your head, a blanket over you, and buried in caitlyn’s arms.

❥ caitlyn is very particular about your tea (as well as vi’s. she knows how you both like it). If she makes it, it’s perfect. If vi makes it? caitlyn tastes it, sighs, and subtly replaces it with a better cup. vi will pout about this. It’s inevitable.

❥ caitlyn keeps an eye out for little things you might need. you offhandedly mentioned needing more hair ties? she has extras in her pocket the next day.

❥ caitlyn is secretly so touch-starved. If you initiate affection, she melts. put your arms around her waist? kiss her temple? she gets so soft.

❥ caitlyn fixes vi’s bandages with the most exasperated look, but you can see the tenderness in her hands. “honestly, violet, do you even try to be careful?”

❥ vi leans against caitlyn or you dramatically whenever she’s bored. you both just sigh and let it happen. she gets bored pretty easy.

❥ vi hyperfixates hard—if she wants something, she needs it now. caitlyn, on the other hand, is patient and willing to wait.

❥ they both compete to see who can make you blush more.

❥ the kisses you all share before parting for work, events, or anything else are downright sickening—it takes forever to break free from their hold.

"when will you be home?"

"do we need to pick you up?"

"you have your location on? I asked you not to turn it off."

"please be home before dinner."

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

NSFW:

❥ caitlyn and vi are lowkey kinky and into some wild shit—behind closed doors, it’s a whole different story.

❥ vi is a big moaner—whimpering, gasping, completely unashamed. caitlyn, on the other hand, has a softer moan but lets out more groans and grunts.

❥ both of them are very vocal and talkative during sex—whispering, teasing, praising, and never letting a moment go by in silence.

❥ this is so random but vi decides she wants to go zip-lining for her birthday, and the way they both effortlessly slip on, adjust, and tighten their waist harnesses has your legs squeezing together. they notice. grinning at each other before tightening your own harness, vi leans in, voice teasing—"you like that, pretty girl?"

❥ vi is best with her mouth and fingers, but she’s a god with the strap regardless—just a little more reckless, rough, completely lost in it. caitlyn, on the other hand, is all precision, focused on hitting every spot and angle with near-perfect accuracy.

❥ vi gets so into making you squirm. she’ll kiss you deep and then pull away just as you’re chasing after her lips.

❥ caitlyn loves whispering in your ear—low, sultry, making promises that send a shiver down your spine. “you’re being so good for me, love.”

❥ vi lives for praise during sex. tell her how good she’s making you feel, moan her name like it’s the only word you know, and she’ll melt—eyes hazy, lips parted, desperate to hear more. She craves it, thrives on it, and if you whimper out a “just like that, baby” or a breathless “you’re so good to me,” she’ll only go harder, more determined to pull every sound from your lips.

❥ vi has a thing for spit—messy, unrestrained, completely shameless. she loves the way it glistens on your lips after a kiss, the way it drips down your chin when she pulls away just to admire you. and when she presses two fingers against your tongue, eyes dark and teasing, voice thick with want—"c'mon, pretty girl, let me see,"—you don’t even hesitate.

❥ vi is a mess between you both—panting, whining, completely unraveling. caitlyn keeps her steady, fucking into her with slow, precise thrusts, while you cradle her face, kissing her deep, swallowing every gasp and moan. she tries to keep up, tries to kiss you back, but she’s losing herself fast—her body trembling, fingers digging into your waist as she chokes out a desperate, “fuck, baby—” before her words melt into nothing but needy whimpers.

❥ you never stand a chance against them. vi is relentless, all hands and teasing remarks, while caitlyn makes sure you’re completely overwhelmed.

❥ caitlyn and vi love ganging up on you. one whispering filth into your ear while the other makes sure you feel every word.

❥ vi is all passion and need, caitlyn is slow and deliberate.

❥ vi bites. hard. jawline, neck, thighs—she wants to leave marks, wants people to see them and know you’re hers.

❥ vi has a filthy mouth. whispering in your ear, voice low and husky, telling you exactly what she’s going to do to you.

❥ If you’re in public, vi will lean in, press her lips just below your ear, and murmur something filthy—acting completely normal while you try to keep your composure.

❥ caitlyn has a thing for control. she’ll make you wait, make you beg, smirking as she keeps her touch just out of reach. “patience, love. I’ll give you what you need—when I decide you deserve it.”

❥ vi loves whispering dirty things in caitlyn’s ear while she is teasing you—grinning as caitlyn’s composure finally cracks.

❥ If vi is feeling extra possessive, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist, nipping at your neck while caitlyn smirks and watches. “damn, cupcake, she looks so pretty like this, huh?”

❥ the moment vi realizes she actually loves you taking control, she’s gone—gripping your hips, looking up at you with blown pupils, breathing all heavy. scratching at your back and whimpering in your ear. to see her undone is heavenly.

❥ she loves when you grab her by the jaw, forcing her to look at you while you shove your fingers inside her, curling them into her. If you’re feeling mean, you can even whisper, “what’s wrong, vi? thought you were tough?” and watch her whimper.

❥ eye contact is their thing during sex—intense, unwavering, drowning you in it. Vi’s is raw, desperate, like she’s trying to etch the sight of you into her memory, needing to see every reaction. caitlyn’s is calculated, focused, like she’s studying every twitch, every shiver, just to use it against you. It’s so intimate it makes your chest ache, so intimidating it has you squirming, but they don’t let you look away. not for a second.

❥ vi is loud. she groans, pants, grits her teeth like she’s trying to hold back, but the second you really start working her up? she loses it.

❥ If you drag your nails down her abs, tracing every ridge of her muscles, she shudders—grabbing at your thighs, fingers twitching like she doesn’t know whether to fight back or let you have your way.

❥ pull vi’s hair. grab her by the roots, tug her head back, and she moans—not even trying to hide how much she likes it.

❥ she’s obsessed with your confidence. If you lean in, teasing against her lips, voice all sultry, “you’re so desperate, vi,” she growls—trying to flip the script, but her grip is weak, and you’re already pinning her back down.

❥ if you take your time, dragging things out, teasing her just enough to make her beg? she hates it—but she’s also so into it. “please, baby, don’t be mean—need you, fuck.”

❥ caitlyn is a quiet mess when she’s being topped—breath hitching, lips parting, biting her lip like she’s trying to hold back. It’s absolutely gorgeous.

❥ caitlyn has a weak spot for when you talk her through it. “you feel good, cait? you’re so beautiful like this.” her head tilts back, her breath shuddering, and she completely submits.

❥ vi gets so soft when you take your time. kissing her shoulders, whispering her name, telling her how beautiful she is. “fuck, baby, I—” her voice cracks, and you feel her clench around your fingers.

❥ when vi is strapping you, she’ll dip down, lips brushing your ear, voice low and wrecked—"I wish I could feel what it’s like to be inside of you." there’s something desperate in the way she says it, in the way her hips stutter for just a second, like the thought alone is enough to drive her crazy. and then she’s fucking into you harder, chasing the next sound you’ll make, needing to feel you in every way she can.

❥ when vi is topping caitlyn, you can’t help but just watch—completely mesmerized, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of them tangled together, loving on each other so deeply. It’s something intimate, something raw, and you adore them for it. but then, as if they can feel your gaze, they both turn to look at you—eyes soft, full of something even deeper. caitlyn reaches for you, vi smirks, breathless, and then comes the invitation, low and tender—"come here, baby."

❥ they love you so much, and they love each other just as fiercely. being in a relationship with them is like having a force of nature on your side—wild, protective, and all-consuming in the best way.

a/n: they’re so cat and puppy omg, hope you like <3!

#vi arcane #cinmntstwrites✮⋆˙#vi x reader #arcane #arcane vi #vi x you #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #vi x caitlyn #caitvi #caitvi x reader #vi smut #wlw #lesbian #caitlyn smut #caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #I love them sm sigh

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rafayelxsylusho · 3 days ago

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These are just making my stomach flip!😍😍

Now I wanna know is...how would our beautiful boys react if y/n/MC was trying to get them jealous instead?

💅🏻

Sorry it took such a long time!! I was planning on posting them all together but I'm still working on the other three.

Enjoy!!

How do the LADS men act when they are jealous Part 1

Zayne/Xavier

Zayne's lips crashed against yours the moment the front door clicked shut behind you, his strong hands gripping your waist and pulling your curves flush against his muscular frame. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim every inch of it.

"Mmm, I've been waiting for that all day," Zayne murmured against your lips. His hands began to wander, sliding up your sides and cupping the swell of your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. You gasped into his mouth, your own hands fisting in his dark hair as you pressed closer to him.

Zayne took the opportunity to walk you backwards, his lips never leaving yours, until your back hit the wall. He pinned you there with his hips, one hand sliding under your skirt to grip the back of your thigh while the other fisted in your hair, forcing your head back to expose the column of your throat to his hungry mouth.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point before biting down, marking you. You cried out, head falling back against the wall with a thud, your hips bucking against his as you felt his hard length pressing insistently against your core.

"Zayne," voice high and breathy with need. "We can't... not here..." You protested weakly even as your body screamed for his touch.

"Then let's take this to the bedroom," he said, his voice a low growl. In a flash, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the hall to your room. He kicked the door shut before tossing you onto the bed, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his hazel eyes.

"I want you," he said, his hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt up around your waist. "I want to feel your skin against mine, your body under me as I make you scream my name." His other hand slid under your shirt, pushing the cups of your bra down to free your aching breasts. "I want to taste every inch of you."

He was acting differently than usual, his slow and sensual pace replaced by a desperate need to claim your body. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours as his hands stilled on your bare skin. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, tracing your fingers along his jawline.

Zayne's expression tightened briefly before he shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing's wrong," he assured you, his voice low and smooth. "I just... I want you. More than anything." His hands began to move again, sliding down your sides and hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. He tugged at them, pulling them down your legs until he could toss them carelessly to the floor. He settled between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your core as he leaned down to capture your mouth in a kiss.

"I need to be inside you," he said, his voice a low growl against your lips. "I need to feel you around me, hear you moan my name as I make you come undone." You arched up against him, your nails raking down his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Then take me"

His grip tightened on your thighs as he flipped you over onto your stomach, your skirt still bunched up around your waist. He pressed his palms against the small of your back, urging you to arch it and lift your hips, exposing your bare ass to his hungry eyes.

"Like this," you heard him say "I want to see you like this, all laid out and ready for me to take you." His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading the globes as he positioned himself behind you. His large hand pressed firmly against your upper back, just below your shoulder blades, pinning your face down against the mattress. Your heart raced at this new position, this level of dominance you weren't used to from him.

He leaned over you, his muscular chest pressing against your back, his hips nestling between your thighs. "Keep your ass up for me."

His hand slid down your spine again, his fingers splaying across the curve of your ass. He gripped the flesh hard, squeezing and kneading, before delivering a sharp smack to one cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, followed by your startled gasp.

Zayne growled in approval, his hips rolling forward to grind his hard, clothed cock against your bare folds. "Fuck, you have such a perfect ass," you could hear the sound of the zipper of his jeans lowering with a soft hiss "I can't wait to sink my cock deep inside your tight little cunt." He punctuated his words with another smack to your ass, this time on the other cheek. Then, without warning, he gripped your hips tight and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cried out into the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as he began to move, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. This was a side of him you'd never seen before, a raw, primal hunger that both thrilled and frightened you. But most of all, it ignited a fire within you, a burning need to submit to his every demand.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Zayne snarled, his hips never faltering as he took you with a ferocity you'd never expected. You tried to move your hands, craving the feel of Zayne's skin against your palms, but he was having none of it. In a show of raw strength, he grabbed your wrists and pulled your arms back, using them as leverage to yank your hips harder against his, impaling you even deeper on his throbbing cock. "Ahh!" you cried out, back arching as he hit a spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your walls clenched around him, trying to draw him even further in, as if your body was desperate to keep him buried inside. "Keep still, let me fuck you like I need to fuck you." His grip on your wrists tightened, holding your arms behind your back as he continued his relentless assault on your pussy, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.

The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, striking that sweet spot inside you with every drive of his hips. Wet sounds filled the room as he rutted into you, the force of his thrusts making your ass jiggle and your tits bounce beneath you. You could only hold on for dear life as he used your body for his pleasure, claiming you in a way that made you feel owned, possessed, utterly and completely his.

You felt Zayne release your wrists, your arms dropping limply to your sides as you gasped for air. Before you could catch your breath, he leaned over your back, his muscular chest pressing against you, pinning you down. One large hand splayed across your stomach, holding you in place as his other hand dipped between your thighs. You could feel his fingers brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit, gathering the slick evidence of your arousal.

"Suck," Zayne commanded, his voice a low, dominant growl in your ear. He pressed his fingers against your lips, coated in your juices, demanding your obedience. Your lips parted instinctively, and he pushed two long digits into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. The taste of your own slick exploded across your taste buds, heady and intoxicating.

"Taste how wet you are for me," Zayne rasp, his hips never stilling their relentless rhythm as he fucked into you. "Taste how much your little cunt is dripping for my cock."

He curled his fingers inside your mouth, stroking along your tongue, as his other hand slid up to wrap around your throat. He didn't squeeze, just rested his hand there, a reminder of his dominance, his control over your pleasure.

"Such a good girl, taking my cock so well," he praised, his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck.

He tightened his grip around your throat as he yanked you back against his muscular chest, your back arching to accommodate his demand. At the same time, he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, brushing against the back of your throat as he fucked your mouth with the same relentless pace as his hips thrusted into your cunt.

His hand on your throat slid down your trembling body to find your aching clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rough circles. Drool leaked from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving tits.

"I'm not going to last much longer," Zayne panted, his hot breath washing over your neck and ear. "Tell me," he growled "Tell me you're mine, that this sweet little cunt belongs to me. Say it, Y/n."

He pinched your clit hard, rolling the tender flesh between his fingers as he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt. "Come on, let me hear you say it," Zayne demanded, his hazel eyes blazing with possessive desire. "Tell me you're mine, that your pleasure, your body, your soul... it all belongs to me. Only to me." His fingers pressed against the roof of your mouth, holding you in place as he felt his heavy balls draw up tight.

"Do it," he snarled "Give me what I want, and I'll give you what you need. Say the words"

The realization hit you like a train, the understanding that Zayne's intense, almost feral claiming of your body stemmed from a place of jealousy. Seeing you with Caleb this afternoon had ignited a primal need in him, a desire to assert his ownership of you, to mark you as his and his alone. As the truth sank in, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision going white as ecstasy consumed you. "I'M YOURS!" you screamed, your voice raw and hoarse from the force of your release. "ALL YOURS, ZAYNE! EVERY PART OF ME BELONGS TO YOU!"

Your pussy clamped down around his cock, rippling and fluttering as you came undone. Your body convulsed in his arms, shaking and trembling as pleasure wracked through every nerve ending. Drool leaked from your open mouth, tears streamed down your face as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hip, holding you in place as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible. His cock jerked and throbbed inside your walls as he found his release, painting your insides with thick ropes of his cum.

In that moment, you knew you would do anything, give anything, to feel this way again. To be possessed so completely, so utterly and irrevocably, by the man you loved. You'd never felt so thoroughly used, so owned, and it was everything you never knew you needed.

Zayne collapsed against you, his muscular chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as the aftershocks of your shared orgasms rolled through you.

"Mine," he said tenderly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "All mine.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to watch you smile at someone else?" he asks quietly. "To see their eyes linger on you just a moment too long, and wonder..."

He trails off, jaw clenching. His hand on your waist tightens slightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip.

"No one gets to have you like I do," he tells you fervently. "No one gets to see you come apart, to hear you say my name like it's the only word you know." His other hand slides up your thigh, under the hem of your skirt. His fingers find the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tracing maddening patterns that make you shiver.

"I've seen the way he looks at you. Like he's trying to memorize every curve, every inch of your face." Xavier's hand slides higher up your thigh, fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. "A man doesn't do that unless he's imagining all the ways he wants to touch you." He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip as he tilts your chin up to force you to meet his gaze. The pad of his thumb pushes into your mouth, tracing the smooth, slick flesh.

"You can't tell me he was just being friendly. I know better." Xavier's voice drops to a low murmur, his breath mingling with yours. "A man always wants more when he looks at you the way he does. And I won't let him have it."

Xavier hooks a finger under the fabric of your panties and tugs them roughly to the side, exposing your most intimate area to the cool air of the room. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your glistening folds, he traces a single finger along your slit, teasing, not quite touching where you need him most. His touch is maddeningly light, barely a whisper of skin on skin. It makes your hips cant forward, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"And no one else gets to feel this pretty little pussy clench around their cock," he murmurs, pressing a finger just inside your entrance . He pumps it slowly, shallowly, barely breaching you before pulling back out. "Fuck, you're so tight. Always so fucking tight for me."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub with light touch. Your head falls back against the couch, a soft gasp escaping your lips. His finger pumps a little faster, a little deeper, but still not enough. Never enough. Suddenly he buries his face between your thighs, not allowing you to see his expression, his eyes. He knows how much you love watching him, reading the raw desire and hunger in his gaze as he pleasures you. But now, lost in the shadow of your skirt, he denies you that thrill, leaving you in the dark about his intentions.

His tongue parts your folds, a long lick from your entrance up to your clit, he focus his attention there, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with a fervor that borders on punishing. It's intense, almost too much. He feels your hands moving to lift your skirt, to give you a clearer view of what he's doing to you. But before you can, he warns you off with a sharp nip to your clit that makes you gasp and jerk against him. "Ah-ah-ah," voice muffled against your flesh. "Keep your hands off." he tightens his grip on your ankles, holding your legs spread wider, locking you in place. The stretch is delicious almost painful, leaving you open and exposed to his hungry mouth.

He dives back in, tongue delving deep into you. He's relentless, his assault on your senses unyielding. Lick, suck, nibble, he works you over with a single minded intensity that steals your breath and sets your nerve endings ablaze. You can feel the vibration of his low groans against your core as he loses himself in tasting you.

He's punishing you, in a way. Punishing you for the way you tease him, for the way you make him crazy with jealousy. Punishing you for the effect you have on him, the power you hold over him. "Xavier," you gasp out, voice ragged with need. "Touch me...please..."but he just hums against your clit and suckles harder, flicks his tongue faster, pushing you closer to the edge. But still, his hands remain locked around your ankles, holding you down, keeping you at his mercy. He's proving that he can bring you to the heights of pleasure without even touching your breasts, without even grazing your nipples with his fingers.

When he feels your body tense, your walls fluttering around his invading tongue as your orgasm crashes over you, he moans against your core, the vibrations prolonging your peak, drawing it out until you're writhing beneath him. But even as the aftershocks fade, he doesn't stop, his tongue continues its merciless dance, licking and suckling your over sensitive flesh. He ignores your gasped pleas for him to stop, for him to give you a moment to catch your breath. Instead, he doubles down, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from you.

Your hands fist in the fabric of your skirt, gripping tightly as you try to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations. But the pleasure is too intense, too much. Tears spring to your eyes as he overstimulates your nerve endings, pushing you to the limit of what you can take.

"Xav, please..." you gasp out, voice ragged and broken. But he pays no attention to your plea, continuing his punishing rhythm.

He's never done this before, never pushed you so far past the point of no return. It's overwhelming, the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting focus of his desire. Your second climax builds quickly, your body responding to his skilled mouth with a speed that leaves you breathless. You're drowning in sensation, lost in a sea of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. And still, he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, driving you ruthlessly towards another shattering peak.

He pauses when he feels your legs straining against his grip as you try to free yourself from his hold. He looks up, silvery hair falling back from his face as he meets your eyes. His eyes are dark, nearly black with desire, the blue irises barely visible in the dim light.

"Watch me," he commands, voice low and rough with need. "I want to see when you cum this time."

As he speaks, he releases your ankles, allowing your legs to fall open, fully exposing you. In one swift motion, he removes your skirt and panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. Leaving you bare, vulnerable and at his mercy again.

His hands slide up your thighs and pushes your legs further apart, until you're spread wide, open, and ready. His eyes never leave yours as he leans in, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "Keep your eyes on me," he orders, before his mouth is on you again, tongue delving deep, fucking you with a fervor that steals your breath. His eyes bore into yours, watching, waiting, savoring every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. The pleasure is intense, the intimacy overwhelming, as he demands your complete surrender, your total focus. There is no escape, no distraction. Only the two of you, locked in this moment of raw, primal connection. He drives two fingers deep into your aching core as his tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit. The sudden intrusion, the stretch, the fullness, it's too much. Your orgasm crashes over you, back arching off the couch, a silent scream tearing from your throat. He feels your walls clench, gripping his fingers like a vice as your release floods through you. He pumps his fingers in time with the strokes of his tongue, drawing out your climax until it consumes you entirely. Your eyes, hazy and unfocused, meet his intense gaze. The black of his pupils has swallowed all but a thin ring of blue, his stare almost feral in its hunger. He's watching you, watching the ecstasy play out across your face, committing every second of your pleasure to memory.

"Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful when you cum. So perfect."

Only then does he pull away, fingers slipping from your dripping core, tongue licking your essence from his lips with a low, satisfied groan.

"That's it, baby, you did so well. Took everything I gave you like a good girl."

He stands, the sound of his zipper echoing loudly in the charged air of the room as he frees himself. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him, hard and heavy and straining towards his abdomen, the thick length of him making your mouth water, but before you can react further, he is picking you up, strong arms encircling your waist as he sits down on the couch, settling you on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place. "Hold onto the couch," voice low and rough with need. "Keep yourself up, baby. I'm going to fuck you now."

"Keep your hands right there. Don't move them from the backrest." At the same time, he's already tugging your shirt up and over your breasts, exposing you to the cool air, your nipples harden instantly. He leans down, hot mouth latching onto one aching peak, tongue swirling and suckling greedily, his teeth graze the sensitive bud. His other hand is on your neglected breast, pinching and plucking, heightening your arousal.

You squirm in his lap, hips rolling instinctively, seeking friction, seeking him. But his grip on your hips tightens, holding you still, keeping you in place. "Please," you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. "Please, Xavier..."

"Shh, I've got you, baby," he murmurs against your breast, soothing you even as his touch inflames your desire. He takes his time, laving your breasts with long, slow licks of his flat tongue. He knows how sensitive you are, how easily he can reduce you to a writhing, begging mess with just this simple act. He's mapping every inch of the soft swells, tracing the curves and valleys with a thoroughness that speaks to his intimate knowledge of your body's responses. His tongue swirls around one straining peak before he suckles hard, pulling the tender bud deep into his mouth. At the same time, he's circling your clit with the leaking tip of his cock, the thick head sliding through your slick folds, catching on the sensitive bundle of nerves with each pass.

You're panting now, hips rolling desperately, trying to take him inside, to feel that first delicious stretch as he fills you. But he's teasing you, tormenting you with the promise of his thick length, denying you that final push.

"Please," you whimper, voice breaking on a moan as he laves your other nipple with the same attention. "Please, Xavier, I need...I need..."

But he's lost in his own world, consumed by the taste and feel of you, the way you tremble and mewl so sweetly for him. He's drunk on the power he holds over you, the way your body responds to his slightest touch as if starved for his caress. He pulls back slightly, his intense gaze locking with yours. His eyes are ablaze with a hunger that steals your breath, a primal desire that makes your heart race. "Look at me, can you see the way I'm looking at you right now? That's how he was looking at you. Like he wanted to devour you whole, like you're the only thing that matters in this world. But only I get to see you like this, only I get to make you fall apart."

To punctuate his words, he bites down on your nipple, a sharp sting that blends deliciously with the pleasure coursing through your veins. At the same time, he rubs your clit with the broad head of his cock, circling and pressing, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you hurtling over the edge. When your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clench, gripping nothing, making you feel empty.

"Fuck, yes, cum on my cock," he growls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he thrusts up, sheathing himself inside you to the hilt in one powerful stroke, you cry out when you feel the delicious stretch. He's so big, stretching you to your limit, claiming every inch of you. And then he's moving, hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he starts to fuck you. Slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, to the delicious drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

Xavier feels your body going limp, the aftershocks of your intense orgasm leaving you boneless and spent. You're collapsed against his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to catch your breath. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, gripping tight, and tugs your head back. The sharp sting of pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure still sparking through your nerves as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, voice low and rough with desire. "Give me one more. I know you have at least one more in you. Just one more, for me." His other hand slides down to grip your ass, squeezing the supple flesh, pulling you harder against him. He's still thrusting into you, still fucking you with deep, powerful strokes that hit that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Look at me," he demands, fingers tightening in your hair. "Look at me while I make you cum again, y/n. I want to watch your face as I fuck you through another one." He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth as thoroughly as he's claiming your body. He swallows your whimpers and moans, drinking down every sound of your ecstasy as he drives into you. "I...I can't," you whimper, voice ragged and weak, your body trembling with exhaustion. "It's too much, I'm too sensitive..." But he cuts off your protest, gripping your hair even tighter, forcing your chin up with his thumb pressing hard against it.

"Yes, you can," he insists, dark eyes blazing into yours with intensity. "And you will. I know you have more in you. I can feel it. Your body was made to take everything I give you, to crave it." He proves his point with a sharp thrust, grinding against that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. A strangled cry escapes your lips, back arching as much as his grip on your hair allows.

"Found it ," he groans, picking up the pace, fucking into you harder, faster. "Take it, baby. Take everything I have to give you. Your cunt is mine, your orgasms are mine. I decide when you're done."

His other hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. The dual sensations, the relentless stimulation, it's almost too much. Tears spring to your eyes from the intensity of it, from the way he's pushing you beyond anything you've ever experienced before.

"Come on," he urges "One more. Give me one more. Let me feel this greedy little pussy grip my cock. Fuck, you're so close, I can feel you squeezing me. Do it, baby. Cum for me, scream for me, let me hear that pretty voice crying my name." His words wash over you, commanding, urging, pushing you to the brink of another shattering climax. Your body is on fire, nerves singing with pleasure, every inch of your skin hypersensitive and alive. When your orgasm crashes over you, it's intense and overwhelming, stealing your breath and your sanity. Your mouth falls open as your release floods your system, your walls clamping down around him. "XAVIER!" you cry out, voice echoing through the room, surely carrying through the thin walls of your apartment. "FUCK, XAVIER!"

He snarls, a feral sound of pure satisfaction, and then he slams into you one last time. His cock pulses, throbbing as he hilts inside you, painting your insides with thick ropes of his cum. He grinds against you, making sure every last drop is seated deep inside you.

He holds you tight as you both come down from the heights of your shared climax. Your bodies are slick with sweat, chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. His softening cock stays nestled inside you, a claiming presence that makes you feel owned, possessed.

"Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Such a good girl, giving me that last one." He rocks you gently, arms wrapped around you like a protective shield, as the last tremors fade away. You're exhausted, drained, utterly spent, but you've never felt more content, more complete. You're exactly where you're meant to be, right here in the arms of the man you love.

Before the overwhelming exhaustion can pull you under, before you collapse completely against his strong chest, you whisper the four words that Xavier has been desperate to hear fall from your lips. "I love you, Xavier." you breathe out, the confession soft but clear in the quiet of the room. Your voice is hoarse from screaming his name, raw from the intensity of it all, but the feeling behind it is undeniable. For a moment, the only sound is the ragged rhythm of your breathing, the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of your lovemaking. Then, you feel it, a sudden, sharp increase in the pace of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It's a rare occurrence, this display of emotion from Xavier. He's always so controlled, so calm and collected, even in the heat of passion. But your whispered declaration has shaken something deep inside him. His arms tighten around you reflexively, crushing you against his chest as if he's afraid you might disappear if he lets you go. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, hear the hitch in his breathing as he processes your words. He's silent for a long moment, and for a terrified second, you wonder if you've said something wrong.

The last thing you hear before you succumb to slumber is the rhythm of Xavier's heartbeat, and the whispered words that seal your fate. "I love you too," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Forever."

#love and deepspace #lnds #lads #lads smut #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lads x you #lnds x you #love and deepspace reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne smut #lnds xavier #love and deepspace xavier #xavier smut #lads xavier #zayne love and deepspace

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 3 days ago

Text

Everybody’s on the Call Line (Jason todd x gn!reader)

Humor, fluff, established relationship. whole batfam gets involved. Reader is a hacker

This happened because I read the latest coffee shop au from @jjenthusee (and you should too!) and I remembered that I can also write cute fluff. So here this fic is, straight from my drafts where it’s been languishing for months. Anyway.

Swearing, as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is

———

Jason eases himself carefully onto the fire escape, metal creaking beneath his boots. He stifles a groan. He’s taking a risk sneaking into your apartment like this, he knows he is. If you wake up and see Red Hood snooping around outside your window, you’ll probably call the cops. But he’s tired as all hell, patrol was long and stupid, and your apartment was closer. Jason will just slide in while you’re sleeping, stow his gear where you won’t find it, and collapse into your bed. In the morning, he’ll just say he let himself in with the spare key you gave him. Easy. All he has to do is disable the window alarm he’d gotten for you, and then he’s home free.

The alarm trips, and Jason moves to silence it but then realized it doesn’t matter, you’re still up, working at your computer.

He freezes as you glance over your shoulder, then turn around to face him. He still has his gear on. Shit.

“Uh, hi,” you offer, looking at him with a curious glance as he races to figure out an excuse. “I don’t think we’ve met before?”

This throws him for a loop. You’re reacting very well to a vigilante crawling through your window at 2:30 in the fucking morning. But you’ve given him an opening, and he’s going to take it.

“No,” he says shortly, wincing behind the helmet. He’s never spoken to you like this and instantly hates the tone he’s using, but he’s got a persona to keep up. Or something.

You nod, seemingly unfazed. “No worries. Do you work with Red Robin?”

What? Why are you asking about Tim? Do you have some secret Red Robin crush that he’s going to have to push Tim off a building for?

Dumbfounded, Jason answers, “Uh, sometimes?”

You nod again. “Do you think you could give something to him for me?”

What the shit is happening right now?

As if to help tip Jason’s world off its axis, you’re interrupted by a tap at the window. Jason looks to see Red Robin crouched on your fire escape. You wave him inside.

“Hey, Escher,” Tim says. “Hood.” Jason has no idea what the fuck is going on.

“I’ve got the script,” you say, holding out a flash drive to him, but Tim shakes his head. “No good. They updated the security.”

“Well, shit.” You turn and dump the USB stick into a glass of water on your desk. “It’s a paperweight now. Only took me five hours to figure out.”

“I know,” Tim says, clearly frustrated. “They keep outmaneuvering us.”

Wait, wait. Jason’s still three steps behind you. “Escher?” he demands.

Both you and Tim turn to look at him, frowning. “Like, M.C. Escher? But, spelled ‘emcee,’” you say, as if that explains anything. “It’s my screen name.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we work together.” Tim raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”

Jason shakes his head, and Tim looks at you for a flash of a moment before turning back to Jason. “Sorry,” he mouths, shrugging. Jason waves him off. He’ll deal with that later.

Tim turns back to your computer screen, but your eyes stay on Jason, narrowing. “What does it matter if we work together? Do I know you from somewhere?”

Shit. You were always too sharp for your own good. Jason’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. “Uhh…”

You fold your arms over your chest. Behind you, out of your field of vision, Tim grins at Jason, delighted. Asshole.

“We don’t normally work with civilians,” Jason says, fishing for an excuse.

You sniff, rolling your eyes. “And yet, here you are. Which, the way, you haven’t explained. What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Fair. What is he doing in your bedroom? Would it freak you out if he said he was a burglar? Too late for that now.

“I told him to meet me here,” Tim says, pulling Jason’s ass out of the fire. “Sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

You shrug. “S’okay,” you say, spinning back around in your desk chair to face the screen.

Over your shoulder, Tim mouths, “you owe me.” Jason gives him the finger.

“Do you have a safe copy of the new security system?” you ask, looking at Tim intently.

He shakes his head. “Not yet, Oracle is working on duplicating it.”

You slump down in your chair. “Drat. I hate waiting.”

“Yeah,” Tim sits on the floor next to your bed, knees to his chest. “She said it’d be ready in a few hours.”

“Balls.” You fidget with a pen on your desk.

“Hold on. How did you start working with Red over here?” Jason asks. He knows you work in tech, that you’re a programmer, but he didn’t realize you were building code for fucking Batman.

Tim laughs. “I found them solving random problems on a Swedish forum.”

Jason blinks. Okay.

“Well, yeah. You found me there. Oracle found me hacking your comm links,” you grin, pleased with yourself.

Holy shit. “You got into the comm links?”

“Yeah,” you nod, satisfied. “I’ve done it twice now,” you add smugly.

“Don’t tell B,” Tim warns. “He doesn’t know. Oracle said she wouldn’t tell.”

Wow. You must be the real deal. He wonders if he can get you to fuck with Bruce’s plans, just to be a shit. "How long have you been working for the Caped Crusader, then?"

"I don't work for Batman," you say primly, as Tim sighs. "I help him out when you guys can't get your shit together."

Jason snickers under his breath. "Sore subject, huh?"

"They don’t like B," Tim confirms from the floor. "If you did it would make everything easier," he grumbles.

"It's stupid," you insist. "Come on, how is this a viable solution to any long-term problem?"

Jason laughs outright as Tim sputters. "He's a detective! He detects!"

"Then why does he have to dress up like that?" you point out. “You can be a detective in normal clothes, you know.”

"He needs armor, he keeps getting shot at!"

"Explain the cape, then," you shoot back. "Justify that monstrosity."

"It's fucking idiotic," Jason adds, piling on gleefully. "It'd be different if he could fly, but he just hops around."

Tim gasps, affronted, while you crack up in your chair. "Thank you. I mean, look at yourself, Red. You're sitting on my bedroom floor in a goddamn cape."

"It looks cool," Tim says defensively.

"No," you counter, "that looks cool." You point your finger in Jason's direction, and he feels his face heat up.

"Oh, come on," Tim scoffs. "You think his costume is cool?"

"Uh, yeah," you say, eyes taking Jason in as you nod. "Very cool. Very hot."

"Oh my god," Tim mutters. "It's tactically stupid. Why are his forearms exposed?"

"So I can see how muscley they are." You stare at them, eyes wide. Jason coughs awkwardly, and your eyes flit back up. "Sorry," you say, not sounding sorry at all. "I like leather."

"Of course you like his costume," Tim mutters under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you shoot at him, and Tim flusters. "Why do you care if I don't like your costume?"

"Yeah," Jason adds, letting some menace fall into his voice. "Why do you care if they don’t like your costume?"

"I didn't—I wasn't trying to—"

"I have a boyfriend," you interrupt, looking at Tim scornfully.

"They have a boyfriend," Jason parrots, grinning behind the helmet.

"Oh my god. I know you have a boyfriend. Relax," Tim pacifies you. "Relax," he adds, nodding at Jason. Jason grunts.

Before you can argue further, there’s another tap at your window, and Cass slips softly into the room. You light up. “Hello, my love!” you greet her excitedly. Cass raps you on the top of your head, and you beam up at her. Your hands twitch toward her before you stop yourself, folding them in your lap. Cass turns to Jason, placing her hand carefully on his arm. He bumps against her, waiting until she pushes back lightly. She then moves onto Tim, tugging gently on a lock of his hair, before depositing a flash drive on the desk. You snatch it up eagerly.

From Oracle, Cass signs.

“It’s O’s duplicate!” Tim plucks it from your fingers, driving it into your desktop.

“Be nice to her,” you warn, running a hand over your computer as the file loads. Strings of code write themselves across your screen. Jason moves forward to get a better look at you. He can’t help it, he wants to see you in action. Your face is scrunched up, tongue between your teeth as your eyes flash back and forth, following the cursor. “It’s incomplete.” You squint at Tim. “What gives?”

Tim tsks. “I don’t know. Let me get Oracle.” He puts a hand to his ear. “Oracle, come in.”

Barbara’s voice answers in Jason’s ear. “Here. I know, I know, it’s not all there,” she says, annoyed. “Let Escher know that I had to reverse engineer it from what we found.”

“She says she has to reverse engineer it,” Tim repeats.

You drum your fingers on the desk. “Okay, what else does she know?”

“What else do you—”

“Hold on, this is stupid,” you interrupt. “Can you, like, put her on speaker? Actually,” you click over to another screen, enter a command. “You’re broadcasting live, O.” Jason hears Barbara’s sigh through the speakers of your computer. “That’s three times,” you add smugly.

Jason let’s out a low whistle. Damn. You’re really good at this.

“We've got to stop meeting like this, Escher.” Barbara almost sounds amused. “How did you get in this time?”

“Hiya, babe.” You click back to your project. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out. I don’t want you closing your back door.”

Barbara chuckles. “Red and I will shut you out.”

“But for how long? I’m too slippery, baby.” Jason almost blushes underneath his helmet. It always trips him up when you talk like this.

“I had to reverse engineer the code from what it spit out when I tried to get in this time,” Barbara explains. “Can you fill in the gaps?”

“Some of them.” You type quickly, deleting code as you get error messages and retyping just as fast.

“Wait, here…” Tim points to something on the screen.

“Yeah, okay,” you back up to where he’s pointing and add something.

“There’s something about the updated security,” Barbara adds. “I think there’s a pattern somewhere.”

“Where?” you demand.

“I don’t know. Gut feeling. But I think I’m right.”

“Do you think there’s something generating new code?” Tim asks. “Like, a program that’s spitting out new security?”

“Oh.” Your fingers still on the keys, face relaxing. “Yeah. Good call, Red.” You scan the code again, scrolling back to the top. “Okay. This changes things.” You start from the beginning, erasing whole sections of Barbara’s work and typing out new code. “Well, shit,” you laugh under your breath. “This is some sexy-ass code we’re looking at.”

“You can fill in the blanks?” Jason asks.

You glance up at him. “Of course I can. I wrote it.”

“What?” Tim shouts. “This is you?”

“It’s me,” you confirm. “Guilty.” A small smile plays around your lips. “Sorry.” Cass steps forward, pinching your ear until you yelp.

“Fuck, Escher.” Tim rubs the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know you were a traitor.”

“Chill, bird brain,” you say defensively, leaning out of Cass’ reach. “This was from, like, five years ago. I needed some cash.”

“You could be on B’s payroll,” Tim offers.

You snort as Barbara huffs a laugh over the comm line. “Fat chance, I’ve been trying to convince them for months.”

“I’m not a fucking lapdog. I play by my own rules,” you insist.

“Yeah?” Jason can’t help but push you. “And what rules are those?”

You cock an eye at him warily. “The rule of not tying my kite to some lunatic.”

Jason nods. Can’t argue with that one.

“Anyway,” you turn back to the computer. “Because I wrote it, I can build you the malware.”

“To get past the security or to neutralize the program spitting out new code?” Barbara asks over the line.

“Dealer’s choice,” you say, then stick your tongue between your teeth as you squint at the screen. “I can make both happen.”

The comm crackles in Jason’s ear. “Oracle, come in,” Bruce barks.

Tim whips his head toward you with a crack. “Nothing from you now, Escher,” Barbara warns. “I’m patching him through.”

You grin, eagerly pretending to zip your lips.

“Here,” Barbara answers.

“I heard from one of my informants,” Bruce’s monotone growl fills the room. Jason catches you roll your eyes and almost bursts out laughing. “They’re going to get into the controls for Blackgate prison.”

“This is Black Mask?” Barbara clarifies.

Bruce grunts as your eyebrows shoot up. “This is Black Mask?” you whisper, except you’ve never been very good at whispering. Tim slices a hand over his neck to silence you as Jason moves to your computer. He’s been eyeing the program you’re using to broadcast the comm connection, and he thinks he’s found the mute button. He taps a key and then turns his head toward you. “Off?”

You nod. “Off. Thanks. This is Black Mask’s security?”

“Yeah, he’s making a move against the jail. He’s going to get some of his guys out,” Tim explains.

“Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.” You tap your fingers against your chin.

“What?” Tim folds his arms over his chest.

“I originally sold it to the Falcones.” You flick your hair out of your face. “Guess they sold me out behind my back.”

A security program that’s making its way through the mob? That’s…really useful, actually.

“Can you get in and stop them?” Bruce asks.

“Maybe,” Oracle hedges. “Hold on, I have to call in reinforcements.” She mutes Bruce’s line. “Escher, you’re up.”

“Wait, you want it now?” you say, aghast. “Christ, how long do I have?”

“Act quickly.” Bruce orders. “My intel says they’re moving at 3:45am.”

Your eyes fly to the clock on your monitor. “What the fuck!” you screech. “That’s in forty minutes! I can’t do it in forty minutes! I have to break through my own walls!”

“Escher,” Barbara starts, just as Tim says “listen, you have to—”

“I can’t, it’s not enough time!” you wail.

“Hey, hey,” Jason cuts in. “Easy. Don’t worry, love. You can do it.”

You look at him fearfully. “You haven’t even told me what to do!”

“Just get past the security,” Jason says patiently. “Don’t worry about shutting down the whole program.”

You nod at him, eyes wide.

“Deep breaths, now,” he instructs. “Come on, in for two, hold, out for four. We’ll do it together. Ready?”

You nod again.

“Okay.” Jason sucks in a breath, loudly so it’ll register over the modulator. You copy him, inhaling, holding, and exhaling on his rhythm. After a few breaths you shake your head, turning back to the computer.

“Alright. I can make it happen.” You resume typing, eyes narrowed as you focus.

“We’re alright, B, I’ve got someone on it,” Oracle says, satisfied.

Tim turns to Jason, clearly impressed. Jason shrugs. You’ve been together for a while now, he knows how to pull you out of a spiral.

He turns back to you. You’re ripping through code at a hundred miles an hour, hunched over the keyboard. Jason grimaces, he’s always trying to get you to sit up straight to help your tech neck. He’ll have to rub out the knots in your shoulders later.

Jason feels Cass’ eyes on him, and he tilts his head toward her. Less than forty minutes, she signs to him. I’ll have to take it back to the Clocktower.

Jason’s thought of that. He evenly points his chin in your direction. You can handle it, he knows you can. Cass nods.

Tim coughs quietly, and Jason raises his head to look at him. “You want the keys to the castle?” he mutters.

He means code you built that generates new security programs. Jason nods. “But that’s just between us, yeah?” It would be loads easier for Jason if he keeps the code out of Bruce’s hands. Black Mask has been operating in Jason’s territory, and Jason has a long string of investigations against him, well-beyond the scope of this Blackgate shit. Bruce needs to keep his nose out of it.

Tim scoffs. “Fine. Seems like you should get first dibs anyway.” He nods towards your desk where you’re still working stubbornly.

The room is silent, all three of them letting you work. After a few minutes, Tim steps toward you. “Here, you need any hel—”

Jason throws an arm out to stop him, just as Cass grabs his wrist and tugs him backwards, shaking her head. He holds up his hands in surrender.

Fifteen minutes later, you rap your knuckles on your desk. “Oi, peanut gallery!” You spin around in your chair, smiling wickedly. “I solved your case for you!”

“It’s not a case,” Tim mutters, and Jason scoffs.

“Don’t be jealous, RR,” Babs says over the line. “You can both be the prettiest.” Tim splutters as you laugh delightedly.

“Nice job,” Jason says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You grin up at him. He catches Cass and Tim share a look, sees her sign something too fast for his eyes to follow.

“Batgirl’s bringing it to you now, Oracle,” Tim says as you unplug the flash drive and hand it to Cass. You wave to her as she slips through the window.

“My backup came through,” Babs reports to Bruce. “They’ll be obsolete in a few minutes.”

“Copy.” The line fizzles as Babs cuts him off.

“Fuck yeah,” you grin in satisfaction. “Nothing like hearing that overgrown Bat say ‘copy.’”

Jason cackles as Tim rolls his eyes. “Oracle,” he says loudly. “Hood was in the dark about our friend here.” His eyes flick to you before he looks at Jason meaningfully.

And just what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Jason all but snarls at him.

“Huh. I could’ve sworn you were smarter than that, Hood,” Barbara admonishes.

“Shut up, O,” he grumbles. Jason glances at you to make sure you haven’t caught on to what they’re talking about, but you don’t seem to be paying attention; you’ve pulled up Steam and are scrolling through your game library.

“Maybe it’s time to clue them in. Take off your party hat,” Barbara says meaningfully. Tim nods forcefully.

“Butt out,” Jason says half-heartedly, but it doesn’t stick. He’s been thinking about telling you about Red Hood anyway; you’ve been together for a year and a half. He’s been…well, he’s scared. But maybe he shouldn’t be.

“We’d have to vote on it,” he says gruffly. Tim pumps his fist in the air. “In person,” he says meaningfully. Comm links aren’t safe, apparently.

“You have my vote,” Babs says confidently. “And Batgirl’s, too, she’s here.” Barbara pauses meaningfully. “I’m happy for you, Hood.”

“Me too!” Tim pipes up immediately.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason waves them off, like his heart isn’t pounding. “Can you call everyone over?”

“Roger that.” Barbara seems pleased. “Hood is asking us all to meet near him,” she broadcasts aloud. “Sending you coordinates.”

Dick, Steph, Bruce, and Damian all copy. Jason steels himself. “Alright, RR, time to go.”

You glance at him as he moves toward the window. “Heading out?”

“Yeah,” Tim answers. “Got a big family meeting to get to.” He grins at Jason.

“Okay. See you around. Nice meeting you,” you say to Jason, before turning back to your screen.

“Uh, yeah,” he says uncomfortably, while Tim snickers. “See you later.”

The troops have already assembled two rooftops over. “Hood, what’s the situation?” Bruce asks sternly.

“The situation,” Tim starts happily, “is—”

“Hold on,” Jason cuts him off. “Disconnect comm links.” He watches warily as everyone takes them out of their ears.

“Compromised?” Dick asks with concern.

“Uh, yeah.” Jason scratches the back of his neck. “Listen, uh…” he looks at Tim helplessly.

“Jason’s dating Escher.”

“What!” Dick screams as Steph claps her hands together excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating anyone?”

“Uh—”

“Fuck, yeah!” Steph interrupts. “This is great! Escher’s the freaking best!”

“Language,” Bruce says as Jason takes off the helmet to glare at Steph accusingly.

“We play Minecraft together,” she explains. “I didn’t know you two were dating!”

“Wait, hold on. I thought you all knew about that.” Jason shifts his glare to Tim.

Tim shrugs. “Only me and Babs knew,” he says.

“Timmy, why didn’t you share!” Dick groans, bounding over to ruffle Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes him away, trying to swipe his feet out from under him. Dick dodges easily, throwing a light right hook in return. “Wasn’t any of your business, now was it?” Jason says gruffly.

Tim looks at Dick, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Fair.” Dick grins softly at Jason, bumping shoulders with him. “Nice job, Little Wing.”

Jason blushes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Congrats, Todd, but why are we all here?” Damian interrupts.

“I’m gonna tell ‘em,” Jason says simply. “About this. If it’s cool.”

“Fine with me,” Steph says instantly.

Tim nods, “seconded. Babs and Cass say it’s fine with them, we asked before we went dark.”

“Well, who am I to stand in their way,” Dick half-jokes, but he’s looking at Bruce with serious eyes. So is Jason.

“I’ll follow Father’s ruling,” Damian says stoutly.

That leaves the big man himself. Bruce smiles gently. “Of course, Jaylad. We’re all happy for you.”

Jason blushes all over again. “Thanks, old man.” He lets out a breath.

“But we have to ask Duke,” Bruce adds meaningfully.

“I texted him, he says it’s fine,” Tim says quickly. “But also, uh—” he holds his hand to his ear.

Warily, Jason puts his comm back in. “Jason, what the fuck!” you shriek. “What the fucking fuck is this!”

“I forgot to disconnect,” Babs says sheepishly.

“Jason, you ass! Why didn’t you tell me you ran around in a fucking costume?” you shout down the line. Steph and Dick keel over laughing. Jason realizes everyone has taken the liberty of putting their comm back in.

“Baby, please,” he says resignedly.

“Baby?” Dick mouths, beaming.

“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me!” you holler.

“Babe, you are a hacker,” he points out. “How come you didn’t share that with the class?”

That makes you pause. “Fair fucking point, I guess,” you mutter. Jason sees Bruce try to tug the comm out of Damian’s ear, but Damian dances out of reach.

“Uh, also, can you cool it with the swearing?” Jason asks. “There’s a kid here.”

“…if it’s Robin I am going to throw up.”

“Hello,” Damian says helpfully.

Your end of the line is silent.

“Hey, Escher, it’s Spoiler!” Steph cuts in. “Nice job shacking up with Hood.” She eyes Jason evilly.

“This is a fucking ambush,” you grind out. “Jason, you fucking ambushed me.”

“Language,” Bruce orders gently. Tim just about busts a gut while Jason waves frantically at Bruce, shaking his head rapidly. “Nice to meet you over the phone,” Bruce adds. Dick gives him a thumbs up.

“…likewise,” you say eventually. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but this has been insane, and I’m disconnecting. Jason, get your as— get back here after you’ve finished your family dinner.” Your end goes dead.

“They seem nice,” Bruce says after a moment. “We’ll have to talk about how they got into the comm links,” he looks at Tim reproachfully.

“See you later, Hood,” Dick says easily, nodding at your building.

Jason turns back to your apartment. He can already see you in the window, arms crossed over your chest. You’re trying to scowl at him, but he can see the smile trying to escape.

He shrugs his shoulders, grinning. You throw up your hands but beckon him anyway. Come on, come back.

Don’t worry, Jason’s coming.

341 notes · View notes

smutallyouwant · 20 hours ago

Text

Twice Fic World chp. 7

Twisted Company

Word Count: 2.5k

Mina x M reader, Momo and Sana x M reader

[ Spit play, Hard fucking ]

" Mhhhh, mhhhh, ugh~~ Y/N your dick is just the best " Mina moaned.

You've done your work early as usual and Mina took a time off to let out some steam with you. Mina' s cries of pleasure echoed in the emergency exit as you give her back shots while she held on tight to the steel handrail.

All of your things and clothes were on the floor except Mina' s top.

" Mmrmrhhh, hhhhushh, mhh "

Mina grinned and muffled her moans trying to silence herself. You then reached for her chin and held her face backwards to give her some kisses for her to release the tension.

Her lips were sweet as usual and both your tongue passionately rubs with each other and brings you tingle every time.

" I'm cumming baby, please don't stop, don't stop fucking me even if my body limped from the pleasure, ~~~ughh it feels so fucking good! " Mina pleaded in your face.

" Yes baby I'll keep fucking you until I burst this cum inside you "

" Yess babyy, that's right I'm cumming! I'm cumming! "

Mina covered her mouth to muffle her moans as her body trembles and her knee loses strength. Her eyes rolled in delight, she's now gripping the handrail barely maintaining her balance so you moved her facing the wall. You hugged her tightly and your other arm gripped her waist.

Mina' s sweet juices dripped to the floor and she's now letting her moan out not thinking that someone might hear her.

" Ughhh~~ ughhh~~ fuck, fuck, yessss babyy aaregh ! "

" Do you like fucking me Y/N? " Mina turned and asked with a cute but lustful smile.

" Yes baby, I love fucking you "

" Then cum for me baby, take it all out in my dripping pussy "

" Take it all out in your work slut' s pussy, see I'm still trembling from your dick hehe"

Mina teases you as she trembles from your work. She's been climaxing for a while, her body twitches and her pussy becomes tight as juices flow out in her.

" I'm cumming baby ! "

" Yessss, yesss, cum!cum! Cum already"

" Mhhhhhh~~~ ~~ughhh "

You moaned in unison as you plunged your length deep in her. Cum flowed out from her pussy mixed with her juices as you two made out while maintaining the position.

" That was so good baby "

Mina said after tidying up, you pecked her cheeks and lips more as the two of you hugged for a couple of seconds. You went out first before texting Mina that the outside is clear before both of you went to each other's office.

You waited for your time out while enjoying poker on your desktop and playing some offline games on your phone.

" Hey Y/N, I'll go home now Chae is waiting for me, bye "

Mina went to your block and said goodbye before leaving you with a smirk and a wink.

" Okay Mina, take care " you said with a smile.

You get ready to go home yourself. After arriving home, you took a nap right after taking off your pants.

It was 8:30 in the night when you were awakened by a phone call.

" What the heck, who's calling in this time? " You whispered to yourself.

Oh it's OIC Sana

Hey Y/N, Can you come here? *address* Please come I'll wait for you.

: Okay Sana, I'll be there.

You quickly took a quick bath and wore casual pants and polo. You went to the address and you're welcomed by two women giving you such alluring glances.

" Hi! Y/N ! " Sana greeted you with a smile before approaching you with a hug.

As you hugged Sana and felt her supple bossom, you're checking out the other girl she brought with her.

" Oh, you're... What was your name again? Sorry hehe " You pointed at the girl and apologized.

" Oh it's, Momo. We never talked at work so it's alright that you don't know my name Y/N "

" Oh yeah it's you, Momo "

" She's a friend of mine, I referred her to Jihyo to work for the company" Sana boasted.

" Oh, nice to meet you tonight Momo "

" Let's go Y/N, were drinking together tonight" Sana said as she pulled you by your biceps.

You can feel her side boob touch your skin from her tank top.

" Really? You woke me up from my sleep to have a drink? And I have work tomorrow Sana " you declined.

" Come on Y/N, just tonight pleaseee. Also so you can know Momo more hihi " Sana enticed you with her cute smiles.

" Okayy okayy fine, I guess, I'm not going to drink much okay? "

" Okay Y/N! " Sana excitedly answered.

" Sorry Y/N, my friend here is so high maintenance hahaha" Momo jokingly said.

" Yeah you're right"

" Hey, don't pick a fight on me! " Sana implied with a pinch to your cheeks.

You walked by a dimly lit alley and to an unfamiliar road.

" Btw, where are we going? I don't think there's a bar right around here "

" We're not going to a bar, stupid "Sana teases.

" We're going to Momo's place, we already bought our drinks inside Momo's bag "

Momo then let you take a look in her bag.

" Wow you're really prepared huh "

You arrived inside Sana's apartment and quickly prepared for the drinking sessions on the floor with a low table. Momo brought out roasted chicken legs and wings from her fridge and heated it in her microwave.

Sana took off her blazer polo and set it aside. You can now take glances on her silky white skin and observe her boobs shape from outside her top.

" Wait for me okay, I'll just change my clothes " Momo said to the two of you.

As Momo turned her back Sana faces you.

" Hey Y/N " Sana whispered as she pulled you for a kiss.

It started with some gentle pecks of your lips before it turned into a passionate make out. You grab Sana's neck as she caress your hair. Her lips are as sweet as pie and you can't get enough of her kisses. Your lips traced her chin with kisses falling down through her neck.

Sana just bit her lips and her gaze to you was seductive. But suddenly her grip into your hair loosens and she gently pushes you away.

Momo just arrived with piping hot chicken from the kitchen.

Both of you gave Momo some awkward smiles before Momo sat on the floor and started opening the drinks that they bought.

Sana is clingier as ever, casually hugging your biceps and pressing your legs as the three of you converse on the table.

Time went by and Sana was dizzy and was evidently drunk. Sana just stared at you like a statue for the whole 5 minutes while you talked with Momo about silly things.

" Hey Sana, you can kiss Y/N, you should not hold yourself "

As Momo said this, Sana smiled and pulled you for a make out session. You didn't dare to pull out but your eyes were locked to Momo drinking her shots. It looks like she doesn't mind so you continue on what you're doing.

Sana pulled out the kiss and looked at you with her gloomy and cute eyes. Before taking her shot that Momo made.

" You should tell me how you two ended up like this, aren't that just right Sana? "

" Hahaha yes, I'm sorry Y/N but Momo knows that we fucked in the office "

You were shocked and asked how she knows.

" Well I just told her hahaha, I told her that I fucked someone in the company and that I'll invite him to drink tonight, it was you Y/N " Sana said.

" I never thought it was Y/N, because she have a girlfriend"

" Ohhhh, hehehe " you said as you scratch your head.

" Aren't Mina your girlfriend? " Momo asked with a puzzled face.

" Uhmmm... no, it's just how we act together",

" That's it huh, so she's the one that joined you and Sana? "

Sana laughed as Momo deducted it all.

" My friend Jihyo, the company owner told me that she has a man that replaced me in sucking her boobs, it's kinda sad so I went to know who it is " Momo explained.

" Hey Momo, Y/N love big boobs, show him yours " she added.

" Huh? What? No it's alright Momo " you said in disbelief.

" It's alright Y/N we're all adults here, take a good look "

Momo said as she lower her tank top's straps and lowered it revealing her plump bosomy boobs.

" It's definitely big, I say it's close to Jihyo's but it's much more plump I love it"

" See he loves it already hahaha " Sana teased you.

You pulled Sana and put her on your lap. You caress her ass and pushes it the way that she grinds on your bulge.

" Let me get this off " Sana muttered as she unbuttoned your pants and removed it.

She's now grinding on her own as your arms linger on her back and thighs.

" Want to see my boobs too? "

" Yess please " you said with a smile.

Sana removed her top showing her perky tits that she made you suckle. Her grinding intensifies and her arms are wrapped in your head.

Momo grabbed the bottle of the gin that is nearly empty and drank all of its content before crawling near your face.

Sana grabbed you for a deep kiss and guided you to kiss her shoulders next.

" What can you say Momo? Aren't he good looking? "

" Yeah, he's not too bad "

Sana then palmed your face and guided it facing Momo, her tongue invaded your mouth, and your body responded to it naturally. After being satisfied with the kiss she bumped her boobs into your face ordering you to worship them.

You immediately obliged. Both your hands groped her tits as you suckle on her nipples simultaneously.

" That's it Y/N, show me how you love my titties "

While you're working on Momo, Sana takes the opportunity to lick and kiss every inch of your body. She first teases your nipples before going down and lucking up your toned abs. Sana is obviously a big 'abs ' girl, she massages your abs while licking them feeling every bump and corner that it has.

Momo switches to deep passionate kissing once in a while as Sana unbuckled your pants showing how hard you are even with your boxers on. She immediately removed them exposing your pumping hard dick.

" God I missed this so much "

Sana whispered before licking its head and shaft. She gently kissed your length covering it completely with her saliva before giving it some good sucking. You and Momo watched her as she gave you a passionate blowjob, her face shows how she loves sucking your big dick. She's not taking it too deep but her blowjob skills compensate for it. Her tongue swirls and licks the head every time she suckles it out, her checks gently presses your dick in between them but with accurate pressure that it doesn't hurt but feels too good. The stimulation makes your breath heavy and Momo anticipated that you're cumming. Momo caressed your back and she leaned towards you to suck your nipples adding pleasure to your body.

" Just like that Sana, I'm cumming "

Sana didn't dare to stop but kept the pace she was doing. As cum spurts in her mouth she kept on sucking but slowed down the pace to not overstimulate you. Cum kept on spraying on her mouth but nothing spilled in her mouth. She skillfully swallowed every batch of your cum every stride of her mouth.

" Was that good Y/N? " Momo asked as Sana kept on doing her work.

You nodded.

" Is my kiss good?" She added.

" Yes it was sweet and a little bit spicy "

" Then open your mouth " she commanded.

You obliged and she palmed your cheeks as she leaned forward and took out her tongue. Saliva dripped on it and you happily took it and swallowed it, it was weirdly good. Momo gently pulled in her tongue collecting more of her mouth water and out again for your another drink. After taking it, Momo made you suck her tongue.

" Very good Y/N, was that good? "

You nodded.

You did not know that you had this kink before having what had happened now.

" Is my blowjob really that good daddy? " Sana asked.

" Yes Sana it was so fucking good "

" Just call me baby, and we'll call you daddy "

" No, I'll call him my good boy. Is that right my good boy? " Momo asserted.

You nodded.

" Do you like my spit? "

" Yes Mo... "

Momo put a finger on your lips.

" Call me noona "

" Yes noona "

" Good boy "

Sana wasn't happy at all, she quickly removed her bottom and rode your dick that is already hard again. Momo positioned herself on the side and made you lay on your back. Momo stimulates your hard nipples again as Sana works in bouncing on your dick.

" Fuckk~~ it's so deep daddy it feels so good"

" I can't take it anymore " Momo mumbled.

" I'll sit on you okay? You'll drink my pussy juice this time "

Momo sat on your face, Sana switched into rocking motion as she leaned on Momo's back and fondled her boobs.

" Your boobs are so nice Momo, it makes me so comfortable " Sana teases Momo before giving her shoulders and neck some kisses.

You suckled Momo's clit and inserted your tongue in her pussy licking the top part of her insides, that made her moan in pleasure.

" Yes yes, just like that, ughh~~ good boy "

Momo started grinding gently on your face. Sana stimulates Momo's body, two women using your body to pleasure themselves.

" Yesshhh~ yeshhhh it's coming " Momo moaned.

" I'm cumming too baby! " Sana added.

The two of them began rocking their hips intensely.

" Aaaahgh!!! Uaarrghhhh! "

Momo screeched as she lifted hed hips up and squirted just above your head. A few pussy juice drips on your face but you don't mind at all. You just closed your eyes and did not breathe so you won't drown. Sana on the other hand plunged your dick deep in her tightening pussy and squirted on the spot.

" Ughhhh~ fuckkk that was so good "

Sana moaned as she trembled in pleasure, her pinch on Momo's nipples hardened.

" You ate me so good Y/N , that was really good " Momo said as she catch her breath and fixes her hair.

" Yeshhh it was so good "

Sana said as she pulled herself out of your dick, she was shaking.

" Whooo! Let me rest a bit " Sana implied.

" Then rest, I'll take his dick finally "

The three of you went to Momo's room where you fucked Momo from the back.

" Fuck it was really big, I'm full of your cock baby boy "

You pulled Momo's hair that made her scream she stared at you with an annoyed grin mixed with lust.

" I'm not your good boy, when I'm fucking you, you're my slut okay? I'm your daddy, you understand? "

Momo nodded.

" Then say it "

" Yes daddy, I'm your little fuck slut "

" Good girl "

You spat on her face, Momo was shocked but she instinctively collected the spit with her fingers and sucked on them.

" Fuck that was hot " you whispered

You repeated it two more times before you spat on your palm and painted Momo's face with your spit.

" Open your mouth "

Momo obliged and you used three of your fingers to play with her mouth. You gathered her saliva and made Sana suckle on your fingers.

" Slap my face daddy, punish your little slut"

You wasted no time shaping her well in the face. You slapped a few more times with your back hand and every time you did, her insides tightened and she couldn't help but scream her moans. After a few seconds, you felt a warm liquid flow through your dick, and Momo was trembling from pleasure.

" How dare you reach your climax before me you fucking bitch "

You then fucked her fast and you grabbed her cheeks to her mouth.

" I'll cum inside you, take it all! "

Momo's inside tightened up as you cum inside her.

" Good girl, good job tightening your pussy as I cum here's your reward"

You leaned towards her to give her a spoonful of your saliva.

" Let me have too! " Sana said

You gave her some of it too.

" You two share it "

Momo and Sana made out as you rest from the side, after catching your breaths you joined them and the three of you made out for a couple of minutes.

" That's so fucking hot, I can't believe how hard you're going with Momo "

" That's how she likes it, I loved it too though, right Momo? "

" Yess, fuck I didn't expect your dick to be that big and that good "

" What the fuck Y/N, are you planning to make a harem at our company? Hahahaha " Sana jokingly said and three of you laughed.

As much as you want to fuck the two of them a few more times, you still have to rest and work tomorrow. You made that clear to Sana earlier so she let you leave after waving goodbye to the two of them.

The next day...

You arrived early at the office intending to finish your work early again. You went directly into your block desk.

" Hey Y/N you're so early today "

Momo greeted you and it looks like she waited for you besides your desk.

" There's still no people in here at this time, would you like me to suck you off? I didn't get a chance yesterday"

" Fuck, okay let's to that, we have 20 minutes at most so you better be good at it "

" You bet, take it out and I'll start "

END

#twice imagines #twice smut #twice x reader #twice #kpop smut #minatozaki sana #sana smut #momo smut #momo x reader #twice sana #mina x reader #twice mina #mina smut

300 notes · View notes

thewitchblue · 21 hours ago

Text

"Did you join the fucking military?"

Jason asked Tim, who blinked blankly at Jason until he noticed what he was holding. Jason was holding your military tags, which Tim's selfishly kept to himself when you "lost" them. Technically, he stole the tags from you, but you can always get a new set. You'll be matching! He did feel a little bad that you got in trouble with leadership when you asked for new ones, but he's sure you'd be fine without the old pair.

"No."

Tim didn't elaborate further. The tags have practically lived on him since he stole them. He only ever takes them off for showers, which is how Jason found them. Jason scoffed,

"Good. You'd be a shit soldier. Why do you have military dog tags?"

Tim tried to take them back, but Jason held them above his head. Your dog tags are air jailed until he gets answers. Jason needed to know.

"Answer or I'll find a place to smelt them down."

Tim knew he was serious by the gleam in Jason's eyes, so he said,

"My girlfriend is in a special forces unit for the marines. She refuses to tell me which unit she's in, but I've narrowed it down."

Jason was too stunned to notice that he dropped your dog tags. Tim snatched them off the floor and put them safely around his neck again and tucked under his shirt where they belonged. He likes to say that you're closer to his heart with your tags under his shirt with the bonus of protecting him from any potential bullets. Even when you are gone, you promise that you will always come back. He's used to your deployment and the limbo you have him in.

"When do I get to meet her?"

Dick said from the doorway. He was passing by and overheard. His little Timmy has a girlfriend? When did that happen?

Tim touches the tags while thinking of what to reveal and what to keep private. He's never been good at respecting privacy, but he has been learning for you. He knows to keep anything you say to him a secret, but what about other things relating to you?

"Whenever she wants. I'm not her keeper."

Tim answered vaguely. He's flying to see you soon, and he doesn't want to be followed. You've been together for three years, but you met kind of awkwardly. You tackled him to the ground and wrestled with him after mistaking him for one of your friends.

Your willpower eventually overcame his reflexes, and he stopped struggling. You had laughed when you pinned him down and ruffled his hair in victory. It was embarrassing to him how quickly he submitted to you. He watched your eyes widen when you noticed he's not your friend. You took in the scene too slowly. You, straddling who you had assumed was your friend with your hands pinning his wrists to both sides of his head, and Tim blushing underneath you. Tim didn't know how to react either, so you both stared at each other before you started awkwardly apologising.

Tim was a mess, but he was an adorable mess. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but there were no bruises nor any scrapes. You were always careful to leave no injuries. He was breathless, just staring at you with wide eyes and a shyness that almost made you smile. He was so cute that you wanted to squish him.

You quickly got off of him once you realised how long you've been staring at him. You pulled him up from the ground when he didn't make a move to stand by himself and actually almost fell right back to the ground because his legs refused to work for him. He was understandly stunned.

This is awkward. How do you explain the tradition of you fighting your friend on sight? Your friend does the exact same thing with you. It was excellent training for your deployment to fight each other on sight without any prep. Enemy soldiers aren't going to reveal themselves before attacking, so surprise attacks help keep your reflexes sharp.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

He couldn't get the image of you pinning him down out of his head. Nobody has ever pinned him down so intimately. You were gentle. Your hold would have been easy to break out of if he didn't stop struggling. It was like you only played until one of you got pinned, and then the fight was over.

Tim was still trying to remember how to function. What does he do? What does he say? He's all shaken up. He had to look away from you. He managed to say,

"It's fine."

He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but it sounded strained. He was pretending like the wrestling really took it out of him by fake panting, but you both knew better. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but pat his back and attempted to leave.

Attempted, being the key word. Tim caught your wrist loosely and nervously said,

"I, uh... would you... Can we... Let's... I'm sorry."

He didn't have the words with you looking at him like that. He was nervous. You smiled softly at him, and he forgot how to speak entirely. He could only stare until you took the initiative and asked him to go on a date before you leave for boot camp. He nodded, and that was that. You gave him your number and continued your run like nothing happened.

The date went amazing. It was a bit unconventional as you took him to a paint gun fight after showing him the gun and explaining the rules. You grinned every time he landed a hit and even wiped away the paint that splattered onto him with a fond expression. You opened up about the fear you have about joining the military, but your desire to help. You want to make a difference, however small or large that may be.

You kissed the bruising wounds softly and banaged the bleeding ones before he could even reach for the first aid kit you brought. You helped him up with a wild grin, and he kissed you until the adrenaline ran out. The guns were empty, and you both were messes, but your hearts were full, and Tim can safely say he hates paintballing. You took him to see a movie like a normal person next date.

Jason and Dick watched their brother soften further and further as he went down memory lane. Dick was ecstatic and already plotting to meet you, but Jason was confused why anybody would date Tim. Yeah, he's had his fair share of partners, but he's surprised every time he gets a date, let alone a girlfriend.

You were his mystery girl, and their family loves a good mystery.

#tim drake x reader #fem!reader #batfam x reader

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bluejulius · 3 days ago

Note

For the sketch request I'd love to see you try hookfang >:)

Had to do it to em! (What if Hookfang gave Toothless some mating dance tips??)

This one’s a lot messier than the others, hope that’s ok, Hookfang is hard to draw in my opinion but after studying the concept art I think he turned out ok here!

#hookfang #httyd #dragon sketch #julesdraws #julesasks #opposite hand challenge #how to train your dragon #sketch request #monstrous nightmare #girl hookfang #fanart #I think my left hand is getting better at this!#sorry if it takes me a while to get to requests they take ages with my left hand but I’m determined to push through and do them all!!#as you can see my left hand really struggles with control #especially in the tail like GODSSS it took me ages I just decided to give up at one point lmfao #ty for the ask crow!!

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arc-misadventures · 2 days ago

Text

The Stepson Protag

Blake: Hey, Jaune?

Jaune: What's up, Blake?

Blake: Can I ask you something?

Jaune: Sure, what is it?

Blake: You're a stepson, with a stepmom, and an older stepsister, and a younger stepsister?

Jaune: I just call them my mom, and my sisters, but yeah.

Blake: Okay... So... That's your stepmom?

Jaune: Uhh, Yeah, Summer Rose is my stepmom.

Blake: And, that's your... Older stepsister?

Jaune: By about a month... But, yeah, Yang's my older sister.

Blake: Okay... And, she's your younger stepsister?

Jaune: Yes, Ruby is my younger sister…?

Blake: Wow...

Jaune: Uhhh...? Am I... Am I missing something here, Blake?

Blake: Dude! You're living the dream!

Jaune: What dream?

Blake: You're a young teenage boy living with a smoking hot stepmom, and a hot babe of an older sister, and a cute little sister! You living the dream of any hentai protagonist!

Jaune: What the hell are you talking about?!

Blake: I'm talking about...?!

Jaune: I fucking know what you're talking about! I'm just shocked you're saying that!

Blake: But, your mom is...

Jaune: My mother is...!

~~~

Summer: Oh gods yes~!

Jaune: Ahh, Mom!

Summer: I told you... Ohh~! I told you, Jaune, call me, Summer~! MmmmHH~!

Jaune: But, Summer, I'm your son, we shouldn't be doing this! So warm!

Summer: Oh, Jaune~! You're the man of the house~! You're doing your duties to the... Ahhh fuck~! The lady of the house~! Mmmm~!

Jaune: Okay... but, at the rate we're going at it... You'll end up...

Summer: That's the idea~! Come on, Jaune~! Ensure... Ohhhh~! Ensure that the Arc-Rose bloodline endures~!

Jaune: O-Okay, Summer... Here I...?! ERGH?!

Summer: OHHHHH~! So warm~!

~~~

Jaune: Is a kind, and good woman, who cares deeply for her children! Me, and my stepsisters!

Blake: Oh... But, what about, Ruby?

Jaune: My little sister, Ruby is...!

~~~

Ruby: Mmmm~! B-Big bro~!

Jaune: What is it?

Ruby: It's... It's so... so big~!

Jaune: Does it hurt?

Ruby: No... It just feels so good~! Mmmm~!

Jaune: Alright then, I'm going to start moving now.

Ruby: Oh? Oh! Ohhh~! Oh gods~! It's so deep~!

Jaune: Gods, you're so tight, Ruby!

Ruby: OH~! This is just how I always imagined it would happen~!

Jaune: Ahh! Imagine what?

Ruby: How big bro would pop my cherry~!

Jaune: I took your what?

~~~

Jaune: Is a kind, sweet caring individual! She may be a crazy little gun nut! But, she's the best little sister I could ask for!

Blake: And, what about, Yang?

Jaune: And, Yang is...!

~~~

Jaune: Hey, Yang is the washing machine free, I need to...?

Yang: GRRRR! Ahh?! Come on?!

Jaune: Uhh, Yang?

Yang: Oh, Jaune! Thank gods you're here!

Jaune: Yang, are you.... Are you stuck... In the washing machine...?

Yang: ...

Yang: Yes...

Jaune: How?

Yang: I wasn't sure if I got all of the laundry out, so I leant in to see... and my tits got me wedged in here...

Jaune: Your stupid tits got you stuck in there?

Yang: Hey! My big phat titties are a work of art! There isn't anything stupid about my bouncing melons~!

Jaune: Oh... okay... What did you have to lean inside to look, couldn't you have just spun the ring by hand, and see if anything fell down?

Yang: That would have been the smart thing to do!

Jaune: Oh gods...

Yang: Come on, get me out of here, Jaune!

Jaune: Okay... Give me a...?!

Yang: Wait!

Jaune: What is it?

Yang: I have to say it!

Jaune: Say what?

Yang: Help me stepbro! I'm stuck~!

Jaune: ...

Yang: Sorry, I had to.

Jaune: Haa... I'm going to regret this... I'm going to regret not doing this more, but nonetheless, I'm going to regret this...

Yang: Regret wha…?!

"SLAP!"

Yang: Ohhhhh~!

Jaune: Did you just…?

Yang: J-J-Jaune...?

Jaune: Y-Yeah...?

Yang: Harder~!

~~~

Jaune: Is a horrible jokester who often get's on my nerves. Seriously, I'm sick to death with all the stepbro jokes...

Jaune: However, they are my family! And, while they may not be my family by blood, but they are my family nonetheless, and I love them! And, just because they're my stepsisters, and my stepmom does not mean I am living out every horn hentai protags wet dream!

Blake: Uh hu...

Jaune: ...

Blake: ...

Jaune: Yang told you about the washing...

Blake: Yang told me about the washing machine insistent, yes.

Jaune: Gods dammit, Yang...

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #ruby rose #summer rose #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #yang x jaune #jaune x yang #summer x jaune #jaune x summer #rwby lancaster #rwby dragonslayer #rwby summerknight #rwby colourguard

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sevikaslatinawife · 3 hours ago

Note

Hii! I love your writing :)

I wanted to ask, can you write something about Sevika putting on a bit of weight in a happy relationship? Like a small reverse of scenario people usually write for reader?

It's okay if you don't want to

Yes, yes I can. :’) Also @amortentia05 bc you had asked for one as well! Thank you for requesting and enjoying my writing, love! 🥹

Pinch of Love

Warnings: fucking fluff fluff fluff

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

“What the —“ Sevika grumbles as she looks down at her stomach.

For the first time in all her life, she can see the softness her body has taken. Nothing too noticeable if someone were to look at her with nothing to compare to, but she can tell.

Her abs are much less defined, sides and thighs soft and face slightly fuller.

“I’m getting fat!” She had told you one evening while you got ready for bed.

You had blinked and looked at her naked form — because yes, she sleeps in the nude. You furrow your brows and shake your head, finding nothing wrong in the curves she’s gained since your relationship began.

“You look fine,” You tell her, stepping up to cup her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” She huffs but still nuzzles into your palm.

“You look beautiful,” you insist, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“My abs are gone,” she complains after you pull back.

“I can see them fine.”

“They’re not as defined.”

“You’re eating, that’s not a bad thing,” you giggle, bringing your other hand up to cup her other cheek. “You barely ate at all before we met.”

“So it’s your fault,” She grumbles but there’s no malice behind it. In fact, her eyes are practically sparkling as she looks at you, a barely-there smile tugging on her lips.

“It is, I take complete blame,” You laugh, pressing your thumbs into the apples of her cheeks. “I am so very sorry for making you so happy.”

“That’s awfully confident of you.”

“But you didn’t say I was wrong,” You muse, a playful smirk at the corner of your lips.

She narrows her eyes at you. “You aren’t wrong. You do make me…happy,” she almost whispers.

You smile at the words, knowing how hard it was for her to admit it when you first began seeing each other. How long it took her to find out why she was drawn to you in such an inexplicable way.

“You make me happy, too,” You assure, hands going to wrap around her waist. Hers wrap around your shoulders and bring you closer to her. You hum at the heat of her body and the newfound softness of her body.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She teases, squeezing you tighter.

“Mm, I am. You’re very comfortable.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she kisses the top of your head. “And that I love you so much.”

You smile and look up at her, kissing her bare collarbone. “I love you, too.”

#sevika headcanon #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x y/n #arcane #sevika x you #sevika x female reader #sevika x reader #arcane sevika #sevikaslatinawife #sevika fluff #sevika comfort #sevika my love #sevika my wife #sevika x f!reader

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artist-owl · 2 days ago

Text

Maedhros’s eyes flicked up as the door to his study cracked open. A beat later, Elrond pushed it the rest of the way open with his back, both of his hands occupied with holding a tray.

Maedhros watched him impassively as Elrond walked up to his desk, carefully balancing a goblet of wine on the tray. “What is this, then?” he asked.

Elrond looked up at him. “I know you like to have wine after supper, and I thought I would bring you some.

Possibly, this was merely an attempt at a kind gesture from the young child, possibly even an attempt at placation. More likely, however…

Maedhros accepted the goblet, looking down at Elrond all the while. Elrond looked back guilelessly. Almost unnoticeably, his eyes flickered between Maedhros and the cup.

Maedhros brought the cup to his face and sniffed it. He paused again, considered it, then sighed, set the cup down on his desk, and looked back to Elrond. “Belladonna?”

The innocent look faltered. Elrond winced.

Maedhros sighed again, and propped his elbows on the table, folding his hand over his stump and peering over them at Elrond. “Do you know where you went wrong?”

Elrond clearly didn’t, but he thought about it, small face screwed up in thought. “I…don’t give you drinks usually, so that was weird?”

“Very good. Anything else?”

Elrond looked up at him blankly.

“May I explain?”

“Please,” Elrond mumbled.

Maedhros leaned back in his chair. “You are correct. The first thing that tipped me off was the unusual action – you have never served me anything before, so that was odd. It would have worked better had you done so and really just served me wine, and then made a habit of it. Eventually I would cease my suspicions, at least to the point that I would sometimes lower my guard and allow my mind to be otherwise occupied when you served it. It would not do to be over-hasty in this; you would need to wait and watch my reactions for a long time to discern when this point was reached, and then also when I did allow myself to pay you less mind. Are you following?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The second thing that tipped me off was your expression. You appeared over-eager, and were plainly waiting on my reaction. Even if I did not know to suspect an assassination attempt from you, I would have been cautious at that look – I had six younger brothers, I am familiar with pranks. The third thing,” he said, picking up the cup once more, “is that I am familiar with the scent of belladonna.”

Elrond made a face. “Drat,” he muttered.

The corner of Maedhros’s mouth twitched. “Quite. Now, there are two more things: a suggestion, and a reminder. The suggestion is thus: poison is the weapon of the cowardly and weak. It is the weapon of those who skulk about in the shadows rather than engage in honourable combat. There is a reason that orc weapons are poisoned, while Elven ones are not.”

Elrond’s face remained screwed up, but shifted to something more thoughtful. “But you’re five times my size, and a way better fighter. I can’t fight you like that and win. Isn’t utilizing cleverness and tactics a vital part of strategy? And knowing both your and your enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, to play up your strengths and downplay their weaknesses? It’s just strategy, and knowing to not try to fight a losing battle.”

“‘Knowingly fighting a losing battle is an excellent summation of the last four or so yéni of war.”

Elrond seemed to consider that. “I’m going to say something that you’re probably going to get mad at.”

“I appreciate the warning. I think.”

“The Noldor tried to assault Angband multiple times, and always failed, but Lúthien and Beren snuck in and got a Silmaril.”

Maedhros closed his eyes and carefully measured his breaths. “You were correct in your assessment,” he finally said.

“Sorry. What was the reminder?”

Maedhros sighed and took a sip from his cup. He lowered it to see Elrond staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Maedhros met his eyes and held his gaze for several beats. “I am an Elf. That which Men find poisonous most often has no effect on us.”

Elrond’s open-mouthed expression went from disbelief to rage in an instant, and he said something in Taliska that Maedhros did not understand and was going to assume was a swear. “I can’t believe I forgot that you…”

“I actually have been prescribed a tincture that included belladonna by my healers before. Regardless, I won’t be finishing this cup, because I need my wits about me tonight, and I have no clue what dosage you came up with.”

“Twice the lethal dose.”

“I have no idea how much nightshade it takes to kill a Man. Either way, it was a good try. I think it could have worked against many people. Remember what I told you. I look forward to your next attempt.”

“So that you can tell me how I failed at that one too?” Elrond asked glumly.

“I have full faith that you will be able to succeed in the future,” Maedhros comforted him.

headcanon that in the early days of their captivity Elrond and Elros tried to kill maedhros and maglor multiple times (even if half-heartedly. They are still good kids) and like, expected to be either punished, killed or thrown out and instead they got constructive criticism back

#tolkien #silmarillion #maedhros #elrond #elros #kidnap fam #sorry op i couldnt resist

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urstruly-ghst · 11 hours ago

Text

the challenge - rook hunt !

in which the challenge you set out for is now in full swing (inspired by epic: the musical with the song, the challenge).

authors note: epic the musical my beloved. i love love love this request submitted by @padf-0-ot ! thank you for waiting; im sorry it took a while, im managing tho

requested ask !

cw: may not understand if you don't know the context of epic/the odyssey

rook hunt

wearing the crown was a heavy responsibility, it had been placed on you since you were born. it was what came to be with the blood you hone beneath your skin. however, that duty carried was always alleviated with rook by your side. he was the one who made your crown a secod thought, contrary to what you grew up with.

but, it soon occured to you it would be heavy on your head once more; rook hunt was lost in a mission, it was supposed to end quickly, but he didn't return. neither did his comrades. there was no word, no letter, not even a sign from any other kingdom. that worried you, that worried the kingdom. each one of your subjects looked at the empty throne beside you, sharing that worry and fear (or perhaps, they all share the glory of seeing you reign alone.)

each men rally up, their thoughts of ascending to the social ranks clouded their empathy. the suitors know how grievous it must be to be alone, holding onto the hope that rook was not dead, but they also seem not to care. there was no king, no one to share your burdens, surely you'd want company?

no matter their attempts to take the throne, you'd stall. it was an array of stalling, you used up every excuse you can try. first it was grief, second was the state was in a crisis, and now.... they've grown impatient. it has been years, yet the throne gets colder as the king fails to return or send a sign. will he ever return?

"i refuse!" you yell as the council all stare. it was you who had the power, why was the council allowing such arrangements to happen?they sat in front of you, the crown, and begged for you to marry a suitor.

how dare they ask that from you? after all your work to keep the crisis at bay, they repay you with a torturous task?

"your majesty, this is what would further benefit our kingdom. you have stalled long enough." the eldest council proclaimed as they showcased data and news from the kingdom. morale is low. especially after the storm that struck your shores.

you glare as you saw the undeniable problem and the solution was clear as day. you couldn't hold onto the thrown nor the crisis forever, but...

you had hope. rook hunt was out there, you could feel it in your bones. there was no way he'd be dead. the council looks at you, waiting on your next word, your plan.

"i have one more challenge. this is the last one. bring me to the armory." you say as you surrendered. but even if you surrendered, you wouldn't allow them, not even for a second, to think they had their wishes granted.

---

you glare as you held your husband's bow as the guards open the gates to your throne room. the suitors chattered amongst themselves but soon silenced as they saw you enter.

"this here is my husband's bow." you say as you raised the bow, it was sturdy, comically large, and a symbol of his prowess. "it has long snapped, but none can restring it. my challenge is this,"

you unveil the axes that were lined up, "whoever strings this bow, and shoot through these axes cleanly..." you hesitate, "will became the new king, my new husband"

"that's what those were for" one suitor said, "it doesn't make sense!" the other proclaimed

the mumurs were loud, each suitor boasting or complaining over the challenge, you glare at them as you see them scramble to get to the bow.

among the crowds was your husband, rook, who stood silent by the pillars. rook laughed at how gullible these men were to believe that they can even string the bow. it takes a wit of the hunt's to know how to string it, it was a family heirloom. it curved weirdly, deceiving those who do not know to string it properly.

but he watched, in amusement. it was all their efforts that made it a comedy. rook watched each suitor try and try as they struggled to even get the string on the end of the bow. rook watched as each suitor soon gave up on even the bow, feeling the dismay build up. in his ragged clothes, rook hid in the shadows noting every weakness and strengths of each man.

“such a shame, these men seem to lack the knowledge to know a deception” rook muttered in sadness as he circled around them. the last suitor dropped the bow and screamed in the room,

“screw this competition. don’t you see we’re being played?!” it was an outraged yell as they point at the throne room, as if they’re trying to yell at you for this competition. and by virtue, they were being played, rook can appreciate this from the man. At the very least, one man knew his queen’s wit.

as the suitors gather around feeling they’re now understanding the consequences of their foolish parade around the bow, rook swiftly takes the bow and strings it with ease. unknown to him, rook was being watched by the sidelines. you were there, seeing him in silence, not recognizing him and had your heart beat in anticipation as the bow was being strung.

thwack!

the arrow flew gracefully to the end, hitting the target on the wall. the chatter died down, as the riot that was bubbling over ended. the arrow stabbed firmly on the end of the target, it made the suitors shut up. rook revealed his identity by letting his hood and shadow go, revealing a disheveled man who’s eyes were tired but victorious.

“mon dieu! it was painful to watch this challenge be failed by my country’s men, it is a simple test of wit.” rook smiled as he waved the strung bow, and the men were confused, it looked so normal in the king’s hand.

“how?!” one yelled, the others were scrambling trying to see if this was a trick, did he hide the other bow? who was he? how dare he win the challenge!

“rook?” you whisper as you open the throne room, the light shining brightly.

“mon amour.” rook replied with a smile.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #twst rook

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losers-clvb · 2 days ago

Text

it will come back // soldier boy

pairing: soldier boy x female!reader

summary: you unknowingly take in soldier boy after his escape from russia.

content: canon level violence, reader has a small savior complex, corruption kink but you could probably ignore it, maybe slight ooc soldier boy, yapper reader, age gap (reader is twenty-five), ben mentions wanting to bite reader multiple times, smut, unprotected piv sex, reader is into ben killing for her

word count: 3.8k

note: first time writing for soldier boy! it has been a year since i've watched the boys, but rewatching it now has made me want to write for it. inspired partly by "it will come back" by hozier, which is where the title comes from.

masterlist

----

The first interaction you had with Soldier Boy was risky. You knew it, but it didn’t stop you from following him into an alleyway. He had stumbled into the dark, cramped space with a pained look on his face. You, who was known to take in a various selection of strays, felt a pull toward the man. Perhaps it was your naivety to the world that prevented you from seeing the danger in the bearded man.

You opened your mouth to speak. The moment he heard the nearly silent intake of your breath, he had you slammed up against the brick of the nearby building, a hand wrapped around your neck. He was heaving out breaths, eye twitching while he surveyed his little follower.

Oxygen. You needed oxygen, but the tight grip on your throat was cutting off that precious supply. Ben looked into your eyes and he could smell your fear. It was washing over you, but there was something else there. Something that made him loosen his grip on you. You sucked in a breath, a whimper leaving your lips. He had let you breathe, yes, but you were still trapped between him and the building.

Ben had no qualms about killing, even if it was a harmless little thing like you. He had done far worse in the name of Vought. Yet when his eyes journeyed across your skin, falling to exposed patch of cleavage that seemed like it was on display with him in mind, something other than bloodlust crashed through him. You were the first innocent thing he had seen since before the Russians, before he had been frozen for what could have been an eternity.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to get out, not daring to even try to wiggle in his grasp. Your voice wavered slightly and you had the overwhelming thought that you were about to die. Past that, in some deep, dark pit inside of you, there was that savior complex, begging to be released, a motherly instinct of sorts. You wanted to help the vulnerable, and even with that crazed flash in his eyes, you knew Ben needed your help.

He didn’t speak. No. He only backed away from you, his eyes still trained on the sweet flush of your skin. It wasn’t until his back bumped into the opposite building that was only a few feet away that you made your own move. You should have run, should have taken the opportunity to escape this wolf of a man.

You took a hesitant step toward him. He flickered his gaze to your eyes and a sick, predatory need bubbled in him at the glimpse of care he caught in them. You didn’t run from him. You shuffled toward him, careful to not make any sudden movements. You didn’t want to spook your new-found project.

“I can help you.” You whispered, reaching out a hand to touch him. Ben imagined you saying it in a different way, purring the words into his ear while he was inside of you.

Your fingertips grazed the collar of the hoodie he had stolen in Russia. He flinched, only just slightly, even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to hurt him. It was instinct by now, the memory of the Russians digging tools into his skin overtaking him.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked when he didn’t speak. God, Ben could have just died at the purity of your care. He hadn’t felt a gentleness like this in so long, far before he had accepted the Compound V into his system. The women he had been with before, they wanted him for a variety of reasons; sex, pain, fame. You were different. He couldn’t imagine why, but your actions were spurred on by the overwhelming need to care for something.

Ben didn’t let himself relax into your touch. He may have been captivated by you, but he still felt the adrenaline of being pushed into this new world coursing through his veins. Your head snapped to the end of the alley when a siren sounded. It was only a police car, flying past in advancement of something else. When you looked back to Ben, a soft smile was shining across your face.

He wanted to ruin you.

You took his lack of fleeing as an opening to really touch him. You cupped a hand over his beard, the bushy hair soft under your touch. You wondered what had happened, who he was. You didn’t recognize him. You had heard of Soldier Boy in school, but it had been years since you saw a picture. Even if you had been able to conjure up some sort of comparison, this man in front of you was far from the American hero he had been before. He was scruffy, wild, and silent.

“Can you trust me?” You asked, your voice just a tiny bit louder this time. Ben caught your choice of words. Can you trust me instead of do you trust me. It pulled something out of him, made him finally speak for the first time since before the Russians turned him into a popsicle.

“Yes.”

The word was quiet and not much of an answer, but it felt like Heaven to you. You had gotten him to talk. A warmth spread through you at the gravelly tone of his voice. Your eyes twinkled at him. He almost regretted speaking, but then he remembered that you were fragile, breakable. If you did something to threaten him, he could kill you in a split second.

You wrapped your other hand around two of his fingers, figuring that was a better option than completely holding his hand. The palm of his hand was calloused, his skin rough in comparison to your buttery soft hold.

Ben let you guide him out of the alley and back onto the streets of New York City. Crowds bustled past. Most had their eyes on their cellphones but some gave the pair of you a strange look. You could imagine their confusion. You, with your hair tied back with a pretty pink bow, dragging along someone who looked like he had just crawled off a park bench. You could hardly care. The giddiness of having something to take care of made your feet move faster down the sidewalks.

The entire journey to your studio apartment was filled with Ben watching you. Your fear had dissipated long ago, replaced with excitement. He could smell your perfume now, an apple scent that reminded him of pie. Pie. He hadn’t had that in a while, he now realized.

“It’s not much.” You mumbled while unlocking the door. You almost sounded sheepish, something that only made Ben want to have a taste of you even more. You had invited a total stranger into your home yet you were still embarrassed of your small space.

You closed the door softly behind him, the click of the lock catching his attention. He whipped his head to you, alarm in his eyes despite the fact that he could tear the door off its hinges if he really wanted to. You shivered under his gaze, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“There’s dangerous people out there.” You defended, your voice small. The irony of your words escaped you. Yes, there were dangerous people out there, but there was also one right in front of you. You pulled your jacket off and Ben was practically salivating at the curve of your collarbone. How easy would it be to just nibble at the skin that stretched there?

“Are you hungry? You look hungry.” You babbled out, the words spilling like water. You were nervous now, not because of his presence but more for the fear that he would run from you. You needed this, needed to take care of someone. This wasn’t the first time you offered aid to something, but it had never been a man like this.

Ben was silent. He didn’t want to talk again. He was intrigued by you. You were young, he knew. Twenty-five, at most. Much younger than him, much more innocent. He wondered if you knew who he was, knew what he could do with just his bare hands.

You took in a breath and nodded, padding over to the designated kitchen area. While you threw together a sandwich for him, he let his eyes wander around the space. A bed in the corner, picture frames lining the wall, and something that was flat and black hung on the wall. Huh. He didn’t know what that was.

He silently stepped over to your pictures, eyes scanning them. People who shared the same slope of your nose smiled back at him, along with a few that he assumed to be friends. He lingered on a picture of you in a cap and gown, a bright smile on your face while you held up a college degree.

“That’s my mom.” Your finger jabbed at a photo of you, slightly younger, and a woman hugging side by side. Ben squinted his eyes, trying to study the photo, commit it to memory. You offered a plate to him.

“Peanut butter and jelly. Raspberry, it’s my favorite.” You explained. Sure enough, there was the sandwich, cut into four perfect triangles. “Sandwiches always taste better cut like this.”

Ben didn’t know if it was true. He couldn’t quite remember anything other than the slop that the Russians had fed him. You sounded so confident in this information that he decided it didn’t matter, you had to be right.

It hit you then that you never introduced yourself. You looked up at Ben with wide eyes and blurted out your name. His eyebrow twitched up.

“That’s my name.” You clarified. You waited for him to respond with his own name, but ended up just staring at him in silence.

That was the start of something new. Something that was unexpected to you both. You gave him your usual bright smile before turning away to disappear into the bathroom, leaving him with his food.

----

You woke up to a grunt. A glance at the floor next to your bed told you it had come from Ben. You frowned and waited to see what would come next. Another grunt, and now he turned over violently. A nightmare, maybe?

You reached a hand down to nudge his shoulder. Big mistake. You had barely grazed his shirt when his eyes snapped open. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you to the ground. You yelped in pain when your head hit the floorboards. He was on top of you now, his knee digging into your stomach.

You were trembling beneath him. His eyes flared in panic and pure determination before he realized it was you, not an enemy. He eased his knee off, but still hovered above you. His long hair dangled down, the ends brushing your face. You let out a shaky breath and tried to ignore the bruising that was sure to be appearing on your wrists.

Ben wasn’t known to hold himself back before, and he hadn’t changed much in the years he had been away. He could hear your heartbeat pounding and he wanted to take a bite where it beat. So he did.

Faster than you could process, he knelt his head down to your chest. His teeth dragged across your breast, digging in enough to leave a mark. Instead of a cry of pain, a whimper of pleasure that you tried to stop tumbled out of you. Ben flicked his eyes to your face, looking at you through his eyelashes.

That was when he smelled it. It sank through the fear that you had felt prior. The sweet smell of your arousal drifted up to him, better than anything he had ever experienced. The years of living without this, without a woman’s body writhing under him, were catching up to him all at once. The drop of self control he had dried up and he moved without thinking.

“Oh,” you hummed out when he ripped your tank top clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to the air. Ben immediately attached his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it. You tried to move your hands to touch him, any part of him, but he made it a point to pin your wrists down above your head.

You moaned out when he nibbled on the nipple in his mouth. He moved to the neglected side, not wanting to leave any inch of you untouched. His other hand snaked down to pull your shorts down. He slipped a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal on it before bringing it to his mouth. God, you tasted just as good as he thought you would.

Ben pulled himself out of the sweatpants he wore. He was achingly hard. And big. You noticed that immediately. You weren’t sure if he would fit, but he had no doubt you would stretch around him nicely. He pushed himself into you, slowly. Inch by inch, he watched his cock disappear. He had forgotten how amazing it felt to be inside of a woman.

You groaned at the stretch. It stung a bit, but the pain was quickly replaced by intense pleasure. You were trying to pull your hands out of his grasp -- it was a fact that you loved to grasp onto your partners during sex -- but Ben held firm to your wrists. The fact that his hand could wrap around both of your wrists only made his thrusts feel that much better.

“Oh my God,” you moaned out. He grunted in response, driving his cock in and out of you.

“Ben,” he groaned. Somehow you knew that was his name with no further explanation. The fact that your brain had something to hold onto now made you squeeze around him.

“Ben,” you moaned out. He angled his hips up, pounding into you now. You threw your head back when his tip bumped against that perfect spot inside of you.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” you kept repeating, the name coming out in breathless gasps. You couldn’t think anymore. Everything was him. He groaned into your chest, biting down on your breast again. You would be marked up by the end of this, but you didn’t mind.

You practically screamed out his name when you finally came. Thank God your only neighbor had been on vacation. A low hum echoed from your throat as Ben continued to chase his own high. Your eyes were shut, your body numb. You felt him twitch before filling you with his cum. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts before collapsing next to you, slipping out of you with the action.

“Mhmm,” buzzed from you when you turned on your side. Ben had loosened his grip on you, allowing you the freedom to wrap an arm across his chest. He let you drape yourself over him, even if he didn’t exactly crave the aftercare. You were quick to fall back asleep, your breaths coming out shallow and even. You were naked, Ben fully clothed, but he still pulled the blanket around both of you. He followed you into sleep, ignoring the way your fingers gripped onto his shirt unconsciously.

----

You woke up alone. You were still on the floor, but the blankets were wrapped around you like someone had tucked you in. No. Not someone. Ben.

Now you had a name for the man, but he was gone. You pulled yourself up and walked to the bathroom, the blankets falling from your form. There wasn’t any sign of Ben. His bag that he had when you found him was gone. You assumed that meant he was gone too.

You quickly got yourself ready for the day, knowing you had work in just a few hours. You wondered if he would come back. He didn’t have anyone else, you assumed. Why would he be out on the streets if he had a home?

A shower helped to wash away the sweat and cum from the night before, but the most you could do for the bruises on your chest was a high collared shirt. You let your fingers ghost over the marks, tracing the outline of Ben’s teeth. If you focused enough, you could still feel the scratch of his beard on your breasts.

It was weird, you decided, that a person could just disappear like this. It was as if he didn’t even exist. The plate that had held his sandwich was cleaned and put away, his dirty clothes that he had changed out of gone from the corner they had been thrown into.

You thought you would have more time with him, more time to fix him, to take care of him. That was what the whole thing had been about. You wanted someone to care for, as you had done many times before. The difference between the stray dogs and him was glaring. The animals had never left you, not until you brought them to a shelter or a new family. Ben was gone, and you had no clue where he had gone.

You turned on your television while you readied yourself, letting the news station play. You weren’t focused on the words, because if you had, you would have seen an image of Ben, Soldier Boy, flash across the screen, informing everyone of his return to the world. No. By the time you looked back at the news, it had already moved on to a segment on an elementary school’s new parking lot.

You frowned to yourself and swiped up your bag. Your mind was still stuck on the last night, at the way Ben had made you come. You were so distracted that you hadn’t noticed the man that had been following you for a few blocks, not until he had wrapped a hand around your face. You gasped at the touch, his hand tight on your nose and mouth.

You couldn’t breathe. He dragged you into an alley, one that was identical to the one you had shared with Ben. You scratched at the man’s arms, trying to get him to let you go. Black spots crowded your vision and you were sure you would pass out when he finally threw you to the ground. You coughed and tears stung in your eyes.

“Where’s Soldier Boy?” The man grumbled out. You ignored him. How were you supposed to know? He was dead, wasn’t he?

“I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” The man hissed and a boot came down on your hand. You cried out in pain. “Where is he?” You were about to answer, tell him you didn’t know, you were innocent, beg for your life, but before you could even look up, boots thumped on the concrete down the alley. You looked up, catching a blur of dark green through your tears. Your captor turned around to face this new guest, lifting the boot off of your hand in the process. You scrambled away.

“There you are.” The man mumbled, a grin in his voice. You wedged yourself in between a parked car and a building, hiding from whatever was now happening. You heard a few grunts before the car rocked with the impact of something thrown at it. Blood spattered on the wall above your head and you flinched, covering your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

You heard the crunch of dead leaves under footsteps. Your eyes tracked the noise, moving around the side of the car to the front of you. You didn’t dare to look up.

“Doll.”

The voice was oddly familiar, but only elicited a whimper of fear from you. Ben could smell it again, your pheromones drifting up to him. He let out a growl and lifted the car, pushing it to the side to expose you.

He walked toward you and it wasn’t until his boots were in front of you that you finally looked up. A look of recognition crossed your tear-streaked face. He was different than when you had last seen you, but still the same. He had cut his hair, shaved his beard, leaving a short covering of facial hair behind. His old hoodie and sweatpants had been replaced by a tailored green supersuit bearing the logo that had been printed across pages of your history book.

“Ben?” Your voice trembled out, cracking midway through. You recognized those green eyes that raked over your body. He gave you a smirk, reaching a hand out for you to take. “Why are you here?”

“I take care of my things.” Ben growled, hoisting you to your feet. You shivered at the emotion coursing through you. You were still shaky and your eyes drifted to the rest of the alley. Half a body lay on the top of the car. You gasped in shock and Ben pulled you into his chest. He didn’t mind the blood, but you, his innocent little fawn, shouldn’t be exposed to it all. You closed your eyes and sank into him, focusing on his fingers digging into your skin.

“You left.” You whimpered into the leather of his suit. It didn’t matter that this was impossible, that the man you had taken in was actually a supe from your mother’s time.

“I had to take care of something.” Ben’s voice was confident, cocky. You couldn’t believe that this was the same man from yesterday. You pulled away, looking up at him. He smirked down at you.

You brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping away a spot of blood. It hit you then what he had done. He had killed a man, ripped him in half with his bare hands.

For you.

You smiled at him, cupping your hand around the back of his neck. You pulled him down to you and kissed him like your life depended on it. He tasted amazing, but it got even better when he bit down on your lip. You let him in and he pushed you up against the wall, pulling a moan from you.

Ben gathered your skirt to your waist and pulled down the pants of his suit to free himself. You moaned again, this time a little louder, when he pushed into you, filling you like he had the last night.

Maybe it was morbid, but the sight of your attacker’s body mixed with the knowledge that Ben had done it for you made you want it even more. So, Ben fucked you in the alley, surrounded by blood, and you grasped onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.

#x reader #the boys smut #the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles

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matchalovertrait · 2 days ago

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An intimate talk under the stars.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

[Once they arrived at the park, Dulce and Antonio changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Running around in skintight costumes all night was NOT comfortable! They wouldn’t recommend it.]

[They also took this time to catch their breath. The crisp air felt rejuvenating while they embraced the comfortable silence, taking in the crazy night they had. What an insane idea. But they did it. Together.]

[After a few minutes, Dulce cleared her throat.]

DULCE: ..Antonio. I want to say I appreciate you for doing this with me. I know it was ridiculous. You’ve already helped me a lot, and I can’t thank you enough for it.

[Antonio shifted with discomfort.]

ANTONIO: Don’t thank me just yet. We haven’t won the case.

DULCE: Many things could’ve gone wrong, though.

ANTONIO: Technically they did... but we got through them, right? And we got the notebook.

DULCE: We did!!

[Dulce took out her notebook and flipped through the pages in awe.]

DULCE: I wish I could see the look on Caruso’s face once he realizes the notebook is gone.

[The “security”, Caruso, and Isabela should be able to put two and two together. Dulce and Antonio knew that. However, Caruso and Isabela had no proof. The Operation Fox team covered their tracks, and Matthew was able to erase any surveillance camera footage once the power came back on.]

[She looked up at Antonio with a soft smile.]

ANTONIO: I’ll guard that notebook with my life when I take it for the ink dating in the morning.

DULCE: I almost didn’t take it when I was in his room because I felt bad... We’re kind of the same.

ANTONIO: What do you mean?

DULCE: Maybe his video about me was some weird karmic stuff for the Alto exposé video I made. Maybe Caruso is just me as a man and I deserve what I got.

ANTONIO: You’re mistaken. You’re a lot smarter than Caruso. In your video, you didn’t give any names and you were very vague. Quite impressive if you ask me. How old were you? About 16? 17?

DULCE: Around there.

ANTONIO: Second of all, you have more love in your heart. It’s that simple.

ANTONIO: Alright. Picture this: Alfonso Alto watches your video. He laughs but is secretly freaking out. What if people start suspecting his shady business? He contacts his legal team to try to stop you.

ANTONIO: They rewatch your video repeatedly in an attempt to find something to sue you for—which, by the way, only adds onto your view count—but, they have nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s furious to have been outsmarted by a teen girl. Things lead to another and he’s in prison all because of one video.

[Dulce nodded. Antonio would know from experience.]

DULCE: Hm, yeah.

ANTONIO: Think about all the lives you probably saved too. Caruso can’t live up to that. That’s probably why he’s so vengeful.

DULCE: ..Speaking of which, what about you and Isabela? Is she a vengeful ex-girlfriend of yours?

[Antonio waved his hand in dismissal.]

ANTONIO: Absolutely not.

ANTONIO: Actually, she hates me because I turned her down.

DULCE: What??

ANTONIO: We used work closely as interns at the same firm. We had to. Along the way, she somehow developed feelings for me. When she asked me out, I declined. I explained to her that I’m dedicated to my work. I don’t have time or energy for love.

[Dulce’s heart dropped.]

ANTONIO: I thought she took it well. Then, she started screwing me over in subtle ways. She would provide me with incorrect deadlines or “forget” to tell me about important calls.

ANTONIO: I couldn’t say anything. Isabela was untouchable because her uncle was a senior attorney at the firm. When my internship ended and I looked for jobs, many places rejected me because I received a bad reputation.

DULCE: I’m sorry that happened to you. Isabela’s a witch for doing that.

ANTONIO: It all worked out. I’m fortunate that the firm I work at now took a chance on me. I get to do what I love. And that place has allowed me to meet some incredible people.

DULCE: ..Sometimes I think about possible alternate timelines. “What if I didn’t do that?” or “What if I had done this instead?” ..Maybe I would be in a more fortunate situation.. but maybe I wouldn’t have experienced the good things in this timeline.

ANTONIO: Like what?

[The two looked up at the starry night.]

DULCE: Like adopting Cosi! Caruso was the one who insisted we get a dog on that day, actually. Maybe someone else would’ve taken her.

DULCE: Okay, your turn to name something.

ANTONIO: Hm..... One time I broke my leg. If I didn’t have all that spare time to watch movies, maybe I wouldn’t have found out I like Star Wars. Your turn.

DULCE: I got lost in the city once. If I didn’t make a wrong turn, I wouldn’t have run into the person selling the refurbished iMac G3. I love it! Your turn.

[Suddenly, the two of them turned to face each other at the same time. They hadn’t realize the closing distance between them.]

ANTONIO: I..

DULCE: I think we should leave. Isabela and Caruso could be out looking for us right now.

ANTONIO: Yeah, and it’s getting late.

DULCE: Mhm.

ANTONIO: C’mon. Let’s get you home.

#24 pics DAMN!!!#and this post is pretty wordy (imo) but tmr's post will be more of an edit-type post and then we'll pause again on saturday/sunday!#Dulce Alegria #oc mlt: Antonio Romero #tjolc gen 2 #tjolc #joy of life legacy #alegria legacy #joy of life challenge #sims 4 #sims 4 story #the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 legacy

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hyorijie · 2 days ago

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Sorry, I fucked your wife. | Alastor x Reader

Warnings Infidelity, reader is married to a sinner on the rise , before Alastor's disappearance, P in v, Obscenity, overstimulation, Alastor is an idiot, sexual tension, possessiveness, Breeding kink, aftercare, Your husband and Alastor are friends (not for long). Summary Alastor has always been a demon of umpredictable whims, but this time... his interest has gone too far. A beautiful doe has completely captured his attention, there´s just one small catch: She´s married. Of corse, that would be a problem... if Alastor cared...

In the comfort of your home, you glided swiftly over the drink bar, most of the time you didn't drink, but right now the situation warranted it. Your husband had been gone for days and the loneliness consumed you like a slow and cruel disease.

The faint sound of music in the background relaxed your tense muscles a little, a sigh left your lips as you stroked one of your shoulders with the intention of releasing the accumulated tension.

Again you took a sip from the glass, the drink pierced your throat with a warm welcoming burn. Again, you were feeling hot, something very normal from wine.

Your gaze immediately went to the table, where rested that mysterious envelope that your husband had left on his desk, why had he left it that way?

You put the wine glass aside and the base of the glass clinked against the surface.

You walked a little disorientedly to the envelope, you saw that it was open. Curiously you reached out your hand gently until you reached the envelope, your fingers checked the embossing, while your eyes scanned the scarlet seal that stood out against the paper.

Before you could fully recognize the seal it bore, the sound of the door being knocked made you jump in place and let go of the envelope. The paper fell onto the desk and one of your hands went to your chest.

— Shit, who the fuck is that? — You growl to yourself squinting your eyes, cursing under your breath at whoever is behind the door.

With obvious annoyance, you walk towards the door, the moment you opened it, the heat seemed to shoot through your body from surprise.

— Greetings, my dear! May I have an audience with your husband at this time? — The voice that came from him was tainted with too much static, Alastor, your husband's partner was standing in front of you with a wide grin that almost forced you to return it.

You looked him up and down, hoping he wasn't real at this precise moment. But one of his eyebrows rose curiously.

You pulled yourself together immediately shaking your head.

— I'm afraid he won't be able to attend to the request, he's out.— you answered with a superhuman effort, praying to any deity that your voice wouldn't be slurred or cut off by the effect of the drink.

You took a discreet breath, trying to hold your ground as you watched Alastor, who was still smiling with that sly expression that got on your nerves.

— As I told you, he's not here. You'd better come back another time. — you repeated with a slight nod, hoping he'd take the hint and turn around.

But instead, the demon cocked his head to one side and let out a short chuckle, as if you had just told him a charming joke. Before you could react, he took a step forward and, with overflowing confidence, crossed the threshold of your house without waiting for an invitation.

— Oh, my dear, how inconsiderate it would be of me to make you spend the night alone in this storm out there. — he said in a falsely mournful tone.

You looked over your shoulder and, to your misfortune, the sky was still overflowing with disaster. You pursed your lips, holding back the urge to yell at him to get out immediately. However, Alastor was your husband's partner, and the last thing you wanted was to create unnecessary trouble.

With a restrained sigh, you closed the door behind him, turning around with your arms crossed.

— May I ask why you are still here if you already know my husband is not here? — you ask in a dry tone.

Alastor had already settled into one of the lounge seats, as casually as a cat would take over someone else's house. His eyes, lively and attentive, lingered on the glass of wine on the table.

— Well, let's just say I couldn't miss the opportunity to chat with you. After all, we're hardly ever alone. —he replied with a playful air. Then he narrowed his eyes with a spark of amusement.— Although… I dare say it's not the best night for a serious conversation.

A shiver of embarrassment ran down your spine.

— Don't imply nonsense. — you said quickly, in a tone that was meant to be firm, but sounded more like a weak defense.

Alastor let out a light laugh and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee.

— Oh, honey, don't take this the wrong way. We all have days like that. And if you're going to drink, what better than to do it in good company. — he said with his wide, impertinent grin.— Although, if I'm honest, I'm more of a whiskey man… but I wouldn't turn down a glass of wine if you'd be so kind as to share.

You pursed your lips, trying not to show your frustration. The last thing you wanted was to prolong his stay, but you couldn't be dismissive of someone so close to your husband either.

Resigned, you took the bottle and poured one more glass, pushing it to him with a light tap on the table.

—Here it is.

Alastor took it gracefully and raised it slightly in your direction.

— Here's to an interesting evening. — he gleamed with a glint of mischief in his eyes before lifting the wine to his lips.

You just watched, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell this Overlord was still doing in your house.

The bottle of wine was nearly empty.

You didn't know exactly at what point you stopped wishing Alastor would leave. Perhaps it was after the third glass, when the conversation stopped feeling invasive and began to feel… intriguing.

He spoke with a magnetic eloquence, with the ease of someone who had seen and understood more than he would ever admit. And you, with the warmth of the wine in your system, found yourself increasingly caught up in his words.

— It's amazing how little humans understand about true ancient magic.— Alastor commented, twirling his glass between his fingers with an almost lazy air.— Always wanting to pigeonhole it into books, rituals, symbols… but magic is not something that is locked into written rules. It's a living art, a contract between the one who invokes it and the one who responds.

Your eyes sparkled with interest. You had been trying for months to decipher certain fragments of forgotten spells, but the lack of results had begun to frustrate you.

— So, according to you, the key is not in the exact words, but in the intention behind them. — you said, leaning slightly towards him without realizing it.

Alastor looked you in the eye, as if amused to see you so absorbed.

— Exactly, my dear. It's like a conversation… only with entities that may or may not be in the mood to listen to you.

You let out a short, somewhat carefree laugh.

—And what do you suggest? That I sweeten their ears?

— Oh, some require it. Others, on the other hand, prefer a demonstration of power.— he shrugged.— But everyone, without exception, responds better to someone who knows what they want.

That last sentence left a chill on your skin, though you didn't know if it was because of his words or the way his eyes bore into yours with that brazen intensity.

You ignored him, or at least tried to, taking another sip from your glass.

— You speak as if you know from experience.

— Let's say I've had my encounters with the forbidden.— your tone became lower, more intimate. — But, my dear… What exactly do you want most?

Something about his question made you flinch. Not in the literal sense of magic, but in what he was suggesting with his velvety voice and indecipherable smile.

You tried to deflect the conversation, but then he changed the subject as lightly as he was moving his glass.

— Your husband has been gone quite a while, hasn't he?

You didn't expect that turn of phrase.

— What's that got to do with it?

— Nothing in particular… just that it must be difficult. — he cocked his head, looking at you with mock innocence.— Such a big home, so much silence. I'm surprised you haven't gone crazy with loneliness.

You pursed your lips, unwilling to acknowledge that he was right. Instead, you snorted with a sarcastic smile.

— You'd be surprised how well I get along with myself.

Alastor let out a laugh, one that rocked you without you expecting it.

— Oh, I'm sure you can entertain yourself very well, my dear. But even your own company can become… unsatisfying over time.

You choked slightly on the wine - had he meant it that way, or were you beginning to read too much into his words and that had another meaning?

You looked away, trying to concentrate on the bottle. It was almost empty, and in your head the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer.

But then something caught your attention.

Alastor was still perfectly composed. While you felt the heaviness in your eyelids, the slight tingle on your skin, he didn't seem the least bit affected.

You frowned.

— It hasn't had any effect on you at all, has it?

He blinked, feigning surprise.

— Me? Ah, my dear, wine doesn't have much impact on me. Not like it does on you.

He pointed to your empty glass with a lopsided smile, and you suddenly realized how vulnerable you might seem at that moment.

Your body was relaxed, maybe too relaxed. Your judgment, perhaps a little numb.

And Alastor, with his bright gaze and smirk, seemed fully aware of it.

Alastor set his glass down on the table with a casual motion, but his eyes never left you.

— It must be difficult.— he said, picking up the conversation as if he had never changed the subject.— Your husband, with all his ambition… making ever greater strides up the hierarchy of Hell.

You straightened up in your seat, leaning your elbows on the table as if that would help you keep your composure.

— It's what he always wanted.— you replied, trying to make your voice sound firm.

— Mmm, no doubt.— Alastor tilted his head, his smile barely perceptible. — He has determination. Firm convictions. He knows what he wants and will do what it takes to get it.

Anyone else would have taken those words as flattery. But you notice the tension in his voice.

You watch him more closely.

The way his lips seemed to twist slightly, as if he was pronouncing the words with more effort than necessary. If you knew him well, you would have said he was having trouble admitting it.

— He's loyal. — he added after a brief pause.— A valuable colleague.

You looked at him carefully.

— Yes… he's always been like that.— You smiled, a tinge of nostalgia in your voice. — He was a man of principle even when we were alive. He wasn't always this calculating strategist you know. He used to be… different.

— Different? — Alastor raised an eyebrow curiously.

— More… human. — you said, almost without thinking. — Passionate, but not just about power. He used to laugh more, used to care more about the little things. It wasn't just ambition. There was much more love in him.

Alastor let out a short, almost inaudible laugh. But something in his eyes darkened.

And then, without warning, he asked.

— Do you really love him?

The air left your lungs.

Alastor slowly sat up, setting his glass down on the table gently, as if the conversation wasn't about to cross a dangerous line. He took a couple of steps toward you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze locked on yours.

— After all this time… after all he's changed… do you still love him? — he insisted, his voice lower, more enveloping.

You opened your mouth, but the words got stuck in your chest. You didn't expect that question. You didn't expect him to ask it that way.

Your heart was pounding, you no longer knew whether from the wine or from Alastor's closeness.

He tilted his head slightly, waiting for an answer.

But you… you weren't sure what it was.

The silence that followed his question was dense, suffocating. But the burn of the wine in your system gave you enough courage to frown, feigning indignation, even as a part of you was still trying to process what you'd just heard.

— What kind of question is that? — you let out with a dry laugh, as if the very idea was ridiculous.— Of course I love him.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his expression barely changed, but his smile… faltered. Just for an instant.

— Yes? — He said in an almost casual tone. — Because you don't seem very convinced.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, he tilted his head thoughtfully and continued in his usual silky voice.

— But now that you say it… I find it interesting. You say you love him, but when you talk about him, you mean how he used to be. Not how he is now.

Discomfort settled in your chest.

— That has nothing to do with it. — you quickly rebutted.

— No? — Alastor let out a small laugh, not taking his eyes off you.— I'd say it does. I'd say what you're feeling isn't love, my dear… it's nostalgia. Habit.

The way he said it, so confidently, as if he knew it better than you did, made you boil inside.

— And what the hell do you know about me? About my marriage? — you shot back harshly, standing up with a sharp movement.

Alastor didn't answer immediately. He just looked at you, as if evaluating every detail of your reaction.

And then, without warning, he moved one hand fluidly, sliding it down your side until it rested on your waist.

The contact was an unexpected jolt of electricity. Not just because of the boldness, but because of the ease with which he did it. As if he had always had the right.

You gasped in surprise, your muscles tensing, but before you could react, Alastor applied firm pressure and pulled you to him.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For the first time all night, you looked directly into his eyes.

And what you saw made something inside you curl into a dangerous mix of fear and anticipation.

Hunger.

Desire.

Possession.

A look you hadn't felt on you in a long time.

Your pulse hammered against your neck, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But Alastor didn't move, just held your waist securely, leaning in just barely, as if waiting, as if savoring the moment.

— Tell me I was wrong. — he whispered, his voice vibrating in the air between you.— Say it's not homesickness you feel.

His closeness burned you. His presence filled everything.

But worst of all…you didn't know how to respond.

The air felt thicker, charged with something you weren't sure you wanted to name.

Your throat went dry, and when you tried to respond, your words came out slow, hesitant, as if each syllable would need to be precisely measured to avoid crossing a dangerous line.

— I… that has nothing to do…— you began, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

But Alastor wouldn't let you continue.

— When was the last time? — His voice dropped to a low, velvety tone, vibrant with that characteristic static of his. — The last time you felt loved. That you felt wanted.

His grip on your waist remained firm, a pressure intense enough to remind you that you were trapped in his orbit.

— When was the last time you experienced something real? Something that would make you feel alive?

You gasped, not only at his words, but because his voice reverberated through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

No. You couldn't let it go on.

With both arms outstretched, you levered against his chest, trying to push him away from you. But it was like pushing against an immovable wall.

Alastor didn't even flinch.

Your frustration grew, and with it, anger.

— That doesn't concern you! — You snapped, glaring at him angrily.— Who the hell do you think you are to interrogate me like that? Your insolence is colossal!

But he just smiled.

Worse… he began to walk slowly forward.

And you, with no other choice, started backing away.

— You're not telling me because you don't even remember the answer, are you? — He continued, his every word pushing you further and further back.— Because you've spent so much time convincing yourself that you love a ghost from the past, you haven't even stopped to think about how you feel now.

— Stop it! — you demanded, but he didn't stop.

— Tell me… do you really think he still looks at you the way I do now?

His tone was a direct hit to your chest.

And then you felt it. The bar counter crashed against your back.

There was no more room to back up.

Alastor leaned in slightly, just enough so that his face was mere inches from yours, his smile now sharper.

— You know the answer. — he whispered, his fingers barely gliding over the fabric of your clothes, causing your skin to tingle again.— You just don't want to admit it.

Your breathing quickened. Your mind screamed a warning, but your body refused to move.

Because for the first time in a long time… you felt something you couldn't ignore.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the ragged breathing you tried unsuccessfully to regulate.

But you couldn't let him be in control. You couldn't let Alastor think he could push you wherever he wanted.

So you inhaled deeply and let the question slip out in a sharp, direct, blunt tone.

— Since when? — You blurted out suddenly.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile barely twitching, but the spark of interest in his eyes flared brighter.

— Since when, my dear?

You looked at him sternly, your back still pressed against the bar counter.

— Since when did you have me in your sights. Since when did you plan all this. Since when did I become an object of desire for the radio demon himself.

For a moment, his smile widened in a way that made you feel as if you had fallen into his trap without realizing it.

— Clever. — He murmured, his voice vibrating with dangerous satisfaction. — Of course, it wasn't hard for you to notice.

Before you could move, his hand slid with precision to your chin, grasping it firmly and forcing you to look directly at him.

His touch was not rough, but relentless.

— The truth… I don't know for sure.— he admitted, his tone lower, more enveloping.— But I do know one thing…

His thumb glided barely over your skin, an almost imperceptible brush, but calculated enough to make you hold your breath.

— Your husband is a hindrance in the equation.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

— A hindrance that has prevented me from coming directly to you as I have wanted so much. — he added with a softness that was in dangerous contrast to the meaning of the word.

A shiver ran down your spine. The seriousness with which he said it, the certainty with which he admitted it… took your breath away.

Nerves exploded in your chest, and the heat of the wine in your system did nothing to help you keep your composure. But you refused to give in.

You growled in obvious disagreement, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

— We may be in Hell. — you spat, holding his gaze.— but I refuse to give in so easily.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, but did not loosen his grip.

— I don't care what you feel. — you continued, in a tone you meant to sound cold, but which barely managed to mask the tremor in your voice. — I never cheated on my husband in life, and I will not do so in death.

For an instant, Alastor's face remained neutral.

But then you saw it.

A barely perceptible twitch in his eyelid, a shadow crossing his red eyes.

And then, his smile returned.

Only this time, it was tighter. Darker.

His grip on your chin intensified slightly, tilting his face just enough to make his every word feel more dangerous.

— You can say what you want, my dear… but we both know the truth.

— And what would that be, exactly? — you muttered through gritted teeth.

Alastor let out a small chuckle before whispering.

— You always look at me with a different gaze, perhaps, to other people's eyes it may seem like simple disdain… but to me…

Your body tensed.

— And that look was a gift from before I knew I would be your husband's colleague… from before I knew who you really were.

The air in the room became unbreathable.

Because his words were not an assumption.

They were a statement.

One that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, was eating you up inside.

The air became thick as your mind was swept away without your permission, like a violent current of memories that had been buried until now.

A year ago actually.

You had barely been in Hell for a few months. Everything was an incessant chaos, a spiral of violence and decadence in which anyone could get lost. But you… you were living well.

Your husband had moved fast, establishing connections with powerful figures, making sure they lacked for nothing. And, indeed, nothing was lacking.

Except excitement.

Boredom had slowly begun to choke you. Even though you were in Hell, a place of chaos and madness, the routine had begun to devour you.

So you made an impulsive decision.

For the first time, you went out without your husband's company.

And you ended up in Cannibal Town.

It was as enchanting as it was dangerous. If you ignored the scenes of sinners being eaten alive in some corners, it had a certain intriguing air.

But something else caught your attention.

An enthusiastic murmur arose from a group of women with dark eyes and sharp smiles. They all seemed to be looking in the same direction, their red-painted mouths forming words of admiration and affable greetings.

Unable to help yourself, you follow their gazes.

A demon unlike any you had encountered before. Elegant, impeccable, with that presence impossible to ignore.

He was not a predator in appearance, but there was something about his appearance that made him more lethal than any of the beasts that prowled Hell.

Your eyes widened with surprise, and your heart….

It sped up.

You stood watching him without noticing the time passing, completely caught up in his image.

Until he turned around.

His bright eyes, red as fire, stared straight into yours.

They pierced through you.

As if they had been searching for you.

The air left your lungs in an instant, and an inexplicable nervousness came over you.

You looked away suddenly.

And without thinking, you fled from there.

Your memories scattered and again you forced yourself back to reality.

Your breathing was erratic.

You remembered him.

You had known him before your husband made any alliance with him.

And when your eyes returned to Alastor's, you found something worse than a smirk.

He was nodding. As if he had read your thoughts.

— That's right, my dear…— he whispered with dangerous delight. — From that moment… we both felt that spark, didn't we?

Your throat went dry.

— No…— You tried to deny, but the word came out choked.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying your internal struggle.

— No, what? — he asked softly, as if he really wanted you to elaborate.

You drew in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to compose yourself.

— It was nothing. It didn't mean anything.

Alastor's smile widened.

— Oh… are you trying to convince me or yourself? — his tone was a venomous whisper, dragging you deeper and deeper into a game you had everything to lose.

— You ran away that time.— he continued, his grip on your chin loosening just enough for you to speak.— But… haven't you ever really wondered why?

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Because the truth was devastating.

Yes, you had thought about it. You had felt something that day. Something you were terrified to accept in the present.

Inside you, the battle was merciless.

Denial.

You clung to it tooth and nail, looking for any excuse, any justification for what had made sense that day.

Intrigue.

That was it. Simple curiosity in the face of someone who seemed different.

Stupidity.

Yes, a passing foolishness. A moment of weakness in a new, chaotic world in which you were still learning your way around.

But not love.

No desire.

No… that.

But the more you dug into the memories, the more the barriers you had so painstakingly erected fell away.

You remembered how you spent weeks in a state of uncertainty, with anticipation growing in your chest every time you went out, hoping - without daring to admit it - to find again.

And there, in the bitterest depths of your soul, the truth waited patiently for you to accept it.

But not here .

Not in front of it.

Fury flared in your gut and, with a spark of courage, you summoned all your strength and pushed him with both hands.

The move wasn't enough to send him away, but it did send him staggering back a few inches.

You, on the other hand, crashed backwards against the bar, feeling the edge dig into your skin.

The air left your lungs in a sharp gasp as your hands shook at your sides.

— Go away. — The words came out harsh, laden with a panic you didn't want to show.— I will not do this to my husband.

Alastor remained in place, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked, exposed.

But he doesn't move.

— Forget this whole damn circus and get out.

Your voice echoed in the room, but instead of an immediate response, there was a silence.

A different one.

One that didn't belong to Alastor.

It was in your own chest that you felt it first: a tremor.

Not in your hands, not in your legs.

In your heart.

And when you looked up again, you noticed it.

For the first time, Alastor wasn't smiling completely.

There was something subtle in his expression, something imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him.

But you saw it.

His refusal to accept your rejection.And then, without warning, he advanced with a single long stride.

You gasped for air.

His shadow covered you, and the distance between you shrunk to almost nothing.

It was then that he asked the unimaginable .

—Just one kiss.

Your eyes widened.

— What? — Disbelief cracked your voice. Alastor looked down at you, his eyes glowing like burning embers.

— A lasting kiss. A real one.

Your body tensed.

— And if we feel nothing…— he continued with a dangerous softness, — if this has all been an illusion, a foolishness… I will leave you alone.

His voice dropped a tone lower, like a promise.

— But if we get carried away….

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

The implication hit you like a punch in the chest.

— You're insane — you whispered, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Alastor smiling, but not mockingly.

— Maybe.

You instinctively took a step back, but the bar was still there, preventing you from escaping.

Refusing was the only option.

But before you could open your mouth to refuse, you felt the touch of your hands.

Not on your face.

Not on your waist.

On your hands.

His fingers intertwined with yours in an unexpectedly delicate grip, and when you looked up, his eyes caught you completely.

There was no longer arrogance in them.

There was something else, something devastating, something you never expected to see in him.

Supplication.

The radio demon, with all his power, with all his overpowering presence, was begging you.

Without words, with his eyes, with his touch.

Your heart gave a brutal flip in your chest.

— Yes… —The word escaped your lips in a barely audible whisper, so fragile you could almost convince yourself you hadn't uttered it.

But Alastor heard it, and that was enough.

Alastor did not rush. He did not advance with the abruptness of one who takes what he desires without waiting for permission.

No.

He approached with exasperating slowness, measuring every inch he reduced between you, giving you the opportunity to flee.

But you don't move.

Don't look away from his gaze, even if the anticipation made you gasp, even if the air around you seemed thicker, suffocating.

Alastor noticed it all, your tense jaw, the slight quiver of your eyelashes, the sway of your chest as the air caught in your throat.

But you don't back down. And that sold your fate.

His hand rose parsimoniously, and the pad of his thumb brushed your lower lip with almost reverential gentleness.

The caress was light, barely a brush, but a violent shiver ran through you. You did nothing when his finger slowly probed it, as if he wanted to memorize its texture, its shape.

You did nothing when he pushed off it with a playful touch, just a slight tug that sent a tingle straight to your stomach.

And when he tilted his face and pressed a kiss against your lower lip, as delicate as a whisper… You closed your eyes.

Praying to whatever divine force that it would end there. That you didn't feel anything.

Because if you did…

If you really did…

You were going to end up in his arms.

But the universe was cruel, because the void he left when he turned away hurt you more than it should have.

You didn't have time to analyze it, because Alastor leaned in again. And this time, there were no distractions.

This time, he really kissed you.

It was soft, leisurely, almost lazy, as if he savored every second his lips moved over yours.

As if he was drinking in something long longed for.

Your fingers clung to the edges of the bar behind you, searching for something to anchor you to.

But when the kiss became firmer, when the heat of his mouth became an irrefutable reality, an instinct stronger than your reasoning took over.

You let go of the bar and, without realizing it, your fingers became entangled in his sack.

It was a minimal, almost insignificant action. But to Alastor, it was the equivalent of a match lighting a forest fire. Because the need exploded in his chest.

And the containment crumbled.

His hands slid to your neck, catching it firmly, and the gentleness of the kiss became something much more ravenous.

You opened your eyes, startled, trying to pull back, to speak, to do something.

But Alastor took advantage of the opening, sinking deeper, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth without warning. A choked moan formed in your throat, drowned out amidst the mess that was now the kiss.

There was no control.

There was no caution.

Only the sound of ragged breaths, soft gasps and the static electricity emanating from your skin.

A tingle ran through your entire body as his hands left your neck to wrap around your waist, drawing you hopelessly to him.

And you…

You didn't stop him.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. Because your arms found their way to his shoulders and you clung to him with the same desperation with which he was devouring you.

As if your life depended on it.

And worst of all… It's that at that moment, you felt like he really did.

The only thing that mattered at that moment was the heat.

The burning that spread through every corner of your body, every nook and cranny of your being, as the wet sounds of both lips colliding echoed through the air with an obsessive cadence. For him, those discordant notes were a heavenly melody, a symphony of desires fulfilled and temptations realized. But to you…

To you they were the sounds of decay, of the abandonment of everything you once thought you could be. They were obscene, the complete opposite of any standards you once thought important. And yet, who are you to define what is right or wrong in a place like this?

He kept moving over you, parting for an instant only to take over another spot on your face.

First, a warm, wet kiss on your cheek, followed by one on your chin, then on your cheekbone, leaving a sensation that added to the volcano burning inside you. Then a kiss on your eyelid, as if he wanted to seal you somehow, leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

And when he stopped on your forehead, he took you completely off guard. It was a soft, tender kiss… but the mixture of his warmth with his closeness made your legs wobble.

As soon as he could do this, he captured your lips again, leaving no room for doubt, the desperate need in his kiss burning hotter than any fire, every second consuming you insatiably.

Now, your hands didn't know where to go.

It was as if your whole body was in motion, touching what it could, clinging to what it found. Your waist. Your chest. His sack , which I had learned to want to feel in your hands. But your fingers didn't stop there, they slid down to her shoulders, running up and down her figure, searching for a stability that no longer existed.

Finally, your hands ended up in her hair, messy, intricate, and the desire to touch those deer ears, those details that only reminded you of her nature, became unbearable. You moved closer, wanting to sink your fingers there, to undo the only remnant of control left in him.

The thought of your husband… evaporated, almost as if it had never existed.

You don't think of him and you don't think of anything else either.

Because all there was at that moment was Alastor. His body, his presence, that electric tension that passed between the two of you, and the feeling that everything was so perfectly right . If you remembered nothing, if this was a new beginning, if Alastor was claiming to be the true lover in your life, you would feel that it could be true, no more questions needed to be asked.

This kiss… this was the only moment worth remembering, and the only truth you had left.

The last thing you remember, through the haze of arousal, is Alastor undressing you with delicate urgency, stripping you of every garment as if he were unveiling a work of art. And then, suddenly, you find yourself reclining on one of the leather seats, being fucked by him in such a delicious way that your moans burn your throat.

You don't know how many orgasms he has brought out of you, but you know you are overstimulated by the violent trembling in your legs and the pleasurable pain your pussy is suffering.

Your moans rise in intensity, tearing through the silence as Alastor rams you with unbridled passion. It's too much for you, that your voice shoots out with a plea.

It's a slow, exquisite torture. You feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, that sweet spot where all your nerves converge, and a choked cry escapes your lips. It's a pleasurable pain, an electric shock that makes you buck under his touch, feeling every cell in your body explode in an explosion of sensations.

— There? You like that, don't you? — Alastor whispers, his voice throaty and loaded with a possessiveness that makes you shudder. — You like it when I fuck you like that?

— Yes, there… M-more…— you hiss in a broken, shattered voice, tears in your eyes.

You open your eyes, your gaze lost in the haze of excitement. The world is reduced to him, to the intensity of his dark eyes and the way his body completely dominates you. Fear tries to creep into your thoughts, but pleasure is an unstoppable tide that drowns him mercilessly.

You lunge again like a madman, possessed by your own pleasure, arousal drenches you both and the smell of sex wafts through the room. And the wet sounds force you to roll your eyes back and paint them white.

Alastor, intoxicated by your surrender, watches you as he makes you his. A primal instinct overcomes him and, with a nimble movement, he shifts position. Now he takes you with abandon, with an unbridled ferocity that steals your breath.

He wants to see you cry with pleasure, to see you lose control completely. He demands it of you with words and actions, praising every moan, every spasm, every sign of your surrender. He kisses you voraciously, savoring your taste, and embraces you with a possessiveness that marks you as his own.

As he gazes at you, his eyes linger on your belly. An almost ravenous need invades him, and sharp words burst from his lips, "You're going to be the mother of my children," he exclaims in a throaty voice that runs down your spine. "You're going to be the sexiest mother in hell, sporting my seed."

And seeing that little bulge of his cock in your belly only slowly breaks the self-control he still thinks he possesses. And he grunts when he hears you moan, a long, choppy moan that seems so sweet to him.

Desire consumes him, the idea of procreating with you drives him crazy. Even though that is practically impossible in hell.

— Let me fill you. — he begs with a fervor that shakes you. — Let me sow my semen inside you and create a new life, a life that belongs only to us.

Sighs and low moans came from him as he uttered those words like a mantra, the climax approaching, so fragile you feel it inside you.

Melted and not really you, you look at him with tight eyebrows, clinging to the places of his thrusts and simply nod.

— Come… come inside me, please! — You cry out with heart-rending urgency, pleading for Alastor to bring you to the ultimate orgasm.

— Look at me, my love. — he hisses, his voice a dangerous purr, — watch me as I give you what you crave so much.

Alastor purrs, his static brushing against your skin and ruffling your hair. You, lost and sensing that at any moment you are both going to be finished, bite your lip trying to hold back the screams.

Alastor immediately notices this and leans in, a quick glance informing you what he's thinking.

— Scream… scream whatever you want, precious, just scream how good you feel, how good you take me… fuck — His voice came out raspy, demanding even.

Alastor, possessed by a perverse euphoria, grunts and gasps on you, each lunge a coup de grace against your last defenses. Your vision blurs, the world is reduced to him, to the heat, the salty taste of your own skin and the sound of your own pleas.

The climax hits you like a bolt of lightning. A torrent of heat and light bursts inside you, tearing apart any barrier that remained between you and him. You scream, a wild, primal sound, as your body contracts in uncontrollable spasms. Alastor roars over you, pouring his essence deep inside you, claiming you as his own.

When the aftershocks begin to subside, you find yourself staring into his eyes, your breath hitching, your body covered in sweat.

— You are perfect. — he whispers between gasps.

As you both recover from your climax, Alastor couldn't help but grab the back of your neck, pulling your face to his to kiss you with a hungry fervor. You accepted the kiss in response, surrendering to the passion still seething between the two of you. And as you kissed, Alastor slowly withdrew from inside you.

The contrast between the wild way he had possessed you minutes before and the gentleness with which he was now extracting his erection was mesmerizing. You gasped as you felt the emptiness in your body, a pang of longing mixed with the satisfaction of the pleasure just experienced.

Alastor contemplated the mess you were now. Your flushed face, your skin covered in sweat and your body freshly sated by his lust gave you a wonderful glow. He let out a static-laden chuckle as he watched some of his cum slide down your thigh.

With his claw, he scooped up some of the substance and looked down at you, a mischievous smile curving his lips. You blushed even more at the sight of the semen on his claw, a tangible reminder of your intimacy.

— You shouldn't feel ashamed, cherie. —Alastor exclaimed, his voice echoing softly. — After all, we have already shared a very intimate moment.

You felt a faint spark of helplessness at his comment, but it quickly vanished as Alastor lifted you into his arms, as if you were a feather.

— I'll take you to a hot bath. — he said, his voice a warm whisper in your ear.— So you can relax and recover.

The aftercare Alastor was giving you melted your defenses, weakening the resistance you were still trying to maintain. Clinging to his neck, you accepted his offer, surrendering to his charm and the need to feel his closeness.

— You're amazing. — you whispered, your voice barely audible.— I don't know what you've done to me.

Alastor smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. As he carried you in his arms, you felt everything around you fade away.

In the depths of the pentagram city, a small establishment, an uncrowded place, was the ideal location for a meeting such as the one Alastor planned to have with his most promising associate

With a cup of tea in hand, he drank it neatly, savoring each sip as if it were the elixir of his victory. The sulphur-laden air and stale tobacco lent an aura of secrecy, a perfect setting for a meeting between men of his caliber.

The tinkling of the establishment's old bell resounded, marking your husband's arrival. Always punctual, always impeccable in his gait, he advanced with the confidence of a man who knows he is well received. He did not suspect, he had no reason to.

Alastor, with his perpetually stretched smile, received him with an elegant gesture. His mood was still high, his spirits renewed after the evening he had spent with you. He still savored the echoes of your presence, the memory of your skin, the timbre of your voice entwined with his on that special night.

— Alastor! — your husband exclaimed effusively, taking a seat across from him.— What a pleasure it is to see you again.

— And mine is even greater! — the demon intoned with his usual theatricality.— I'm glad to see you're still in one piece after your little excursion. I hope it was as… exciting as you imagined.

Your husband laughed, settling in with the ease of one who has good news to share.

— Oh, it was. From start to finish. Mercenaries, small-time demons, ambushes…— your husband exclaimed enthusiastically, pausing before continuing, —Violence at every turn, as expected. But you know what? It was all worth it.

Alastor tilted his head in mock interest, gently twirling the spoon in his tea.

— Ah, Yes? , And what did you find in the midst of such an odyssey?— he asked.

Your husband leaned forward slightly, and in one measured motion, pulled out a bundle wrapped in dark velvet. He held it reverently before unfolding the cloth and revealing his most precious find: a grimoire of infernal magic, its yellowed pages exuding a latent energy, its leather cover cracked and marked with symbols forgotten by time.

Alastor looks at the relic with a lopsided smile, interlacing his fingers on the table.

— Well, well… —he mused, slurring his words in his melodic tone.— It's not every day one stumbles upon a treasure like this.

— No, not every day. — agreed your husband with palpable excitement as he turned the pages with eager fingers.— But here it is. Lost magic, forbidden spells… and one in particular that changes everything.

Alastor did not react immediately.

He simply waited, letting the other man elaborate, let him drown in his own enthusiasm.

— One of these spells guarantees a conception in hell— he declared, his eyes glowing with a feverish intensity. — A pregnancy.

The silence that followed was almost imperceptible, a minuscule space of time in which the world seemed to hold its breath.

Alastor's smile did not fade, but something in his posture changed, a subtle tension in his jaw, a slight drumming of his fingers against the table.

— Oh… what a fascinating revelation,— he murmured with his usual sweetness, gently setting his teacup aside.— And tell me… who, exactly, will be the lucky one?

Your husband laughed with genuine warmth, oblivious to the storm brewing in front of him.

— Who else could it be? My wife.

Alastor felt the air grow heavy in his throat. The timbre of his laughter did not change, nor did the sharp glint in his eyes, but inside him, fury pulsed like a chained beast, clawing, wanting to escape.

No. Not yet.

Your husband continued to talk, rambling on about his love for you, about the future he planned by your side, about the miracle that was within his grasp. His enthusiasm was blinding. He didn't see the way Alastor settled into his seat, nor how the shadow of his smile took on a dangerous tinge.

And then, with absolute calm, the demon exhaled a sentence that split the conversation in two.

— I'm sorry, my friend… but. — said Alastor, his voice smooth as velvet, riddled with a steely edge. —…I fucked your wife.

The sound of his voice, though serene, felt like a thud against the table. Your husband stopped immediately. His words died in his throat, his face paled as if the blood had left him with a single jerk.

— Pardon? — he asked, a shaky laugh seeping between his lips.— I must have heard wrong… that was a joke, wasn't it?

Alastor didn't move. His smile was still there, relaxed, serene. His crimson eyes glowed with dark satisfaction, as if he enjoyed the bewilderment of the man in front of him.

— Dear colleague. — he whispered with a bone-chilling sweetness.— Do I look like someone who jokes?

The light of the establishment flickered over both men. The silence that followed the confession was thick.

Your husband, still incredulous, searched Alastor's face for some hint of mockery, a grimace that would disprove his words. But the demon only looked at him with that lazy and enchanted smile.

— No… — your husband muttered, his voice barely a choked whisper.— It can't be…

Alastor let out a light laugh, full of amusement, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

— Oh, but it can. — he crooned with delight.— And it was.

Your husband swallowed dryly.

— When? —His voice cracked slightly. — How?

The demon narrowed his eyes, his smile curving with pride.

— Ah, you want details? — he asked, with a venomous sweetness.— It's funny… I thought certain images would be overused in your mind.

Your husband's jaw tensed, but Alastor didn't stop.

— Although, if you insist…— he continued with mock innocence, stroking the rim of his teacup.— I might say it all began with the allure of loneliness. Poor soul, abandoned by her beloved on such a perilous travel… so, so far away. What was I to do but offer her a little company?

Your husband's eyes grew wide with horror as he realized the truth.

The travel.

The damn travel.

The letter the radio demon had sent him, with a destination that promised only advantages.

It was all Alastor's idea.

All this time, the whole odyssey, all the effort to find that grimoire… it had been nothing more than a distraction.

An excuse.

For the Radio Demon to get tangled in the sheets with you.

The chair slid back with a violent creak as your husband shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger, chest heaving with erratic breathing. He pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, while his other hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white with restrained force.

— How could you…! —he bellowed, his voice rasping with fury. — How dare you betray our alliance like this! To climb into bed with my wife!

Alastor did not flinch. On the contrary, he leaned back comfortably in his seat, raising an eyebrow haughtily.

— Betray the alliance? —he muttered, his tone overflowing with condescension. — I don't know why you're so surprised. After all… she's always been mine.

Your husband's blood boiled in her veins. But Alastor was only smiling. He was smiling as if he had already won.

Alastor brought the teacup to his lips with that infuriating grace of his, but before he took a sip, he dropped one last lunge.

— ¡Ah yes!, and actually…— he paused briefly, enjoying the anticipation on your husband's congested face.— It wasn't on the bed. It was on the couch.

The silence in the room was immediate.

For an instant, there was only the subtle tinkling of china as Alastor finally set his tea down on the wood with absolute serenity.

Your husband, however, felt the last strand of his self-control tear. The vein in his forehead pulsed violently before he let out a fierce curse, his voice so powerful that some of the demons present in the small room were startled.

Murmurs began to run through the patrons, some watching with morbid interest, others feigning indifference as their ears pricked up to catch every word.

— You damned bastard! — your husband spat, his chest rising and falling with furious breaths.

Your husband pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, his other hand clenched into a fist that rose as if at any moment he was going to hurl it at the demon.

— She's my wife!— he spat, rage exuding from every word.— As much as you have taken advantage of my absence, she is still my wife!

Ah, but those words…

Something bubbled up inside him, a dense, toxic emotion that began to seep into the atmosphere like a dark fog.

— Is that so? Your wife…— repeated the demon, his voice a silken whisper.

The teacup hovered in the air for a few seconds before disappearing in a distortion of static, as Alastor's silhouette began to change.

The lights of the place flickered, crackling with irregular frequency. His shadow, which until that moment had remained obedient under his feet, began to lengthen and twist, transformed into a creature with a will of its own.

Little flashes of his demonic form began to manifest themselves involuntarily: his smile, once playful, twisted into something sharper, more predatory; and his eyes, those glowing red eyes like burning spokes, crackled with barely contained rage.

— Ah… — he whispered, rising with an unsettling slowness. — No, no, dear friend….

— She… She's not yours. —he exclaimed, each syllable making the ground tremble beneath his feet.— She never was.

A flash of red and black flashed across his figure. The temperature in the place dropped sharply, and static electricity made the lights flicker with a sickly hum.

The murmuring in the room ceased. No one dared move.

And then Alastor bowed his head slightly, his smile curving into something that no longer looked human, but the ravenous grimace of a predator ready to feast.

— And now..—He uttered in a tone that was almost melodic. — I'm going to get rid of the nuisance.

Your husband barely had time to inhale before the shadows around him began to move.

The radio broadcast, transmitted from high above, echoed in every corner where Alastor's signal could reach. At first, only intermittent static could be heard, distorted like the wailing of a spectrum trapped between frequencies. Then, the screams began.

Heart-rending sounds echoed through the air, where the infamous red demon's radio broadcast was emitting a special edition.

Suffering permeated every note of that macabre symphony, and the listening demons shuddered, some with morbid pleasure, others with a visceral unease that made their skin crawl. But no one turned off the radio.

Alastor's distorted guffaws filtered into the transmission between each interval of screams, each word a mocking echo, a sadistic mockery of the fate of the wretch who had dared to defy him.

And the wretched victim had been your husband.

— What a… lovely evening, my friends! — He intoned enthusiastically, his voice buzzing with a hint of static.— Don't you think despair has such a… melodious ring to it!

More laughter. More pleading in the distant background, fainter and fainter.

Then silence, and then a click.

The program had come to an end.

In the demon's hands rested the grimoire.

His fingers ran over the ancient leather cover, feeling the dark energy emanating from the book. The mere presence of those pages, covered with infernal inscriptions, vibrated the air with a primal power, one he recognized all too well.

His red eyes glowed with keen interest. A spell of conception.

The idea was fascinating. In Hell, damned souls could not create life the way mortals could, but that book…that spell promised the impossible.

Could it be true?

Could there really be a being born of his essence, of his power?

A snap echoed in the air as he closed the grimoire with a firm movement. His fingers drummed on the cover as her smile widened with barely contained excitement.

Well…

There was only one way to find out.

And you… you would be the perfect person in his little experiment.

___________________

Oh god, I still don't forget this series of stories, misfortunes consumed my time and at last I can upload this work. I am sorry forever. T.T

#alastor x you #alastor smut #alastor the radio demon #alastor #smut #valentines day #hazbinhotel #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #the radio demon

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marauder-misprint · 2 days ago

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Hiii! So I wanted to request a Remus fic where the reader is really cheerfull flirty outgoing physical with everybody and bubbly but her English is not that good. If her native language would be hungarian would be great. So she sorta struggles. And like fluff. I'm so sorry if I come off as rude. 🫶

Hi! Thank you for this request and I'm sorry it took me a while to write it. I really hope you like it and that the Hungarian isn't too horrible. And your request isn't rude at all ❤︎ All of the Hungarian words/phrases are translated at the bottom

Édesem

Remus Lupin x Hungarian!reader

2.5k words

cw: fluff :), Hungarian from Google Translate

So many people loved you at Hogwarts. You sported a bright smile everywhere you went. If someone forgot their quill, you let them borrow one of yours. They forgot their book? You offered to share yours. When your words didn’t fail you, you were the first to compliment people when they gave an insightful answer or looked especially nice or whatever could earn them a compliment. You were also quick to offer hugs and high fives, to give someone a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, to ‘boop’ someone’s nose or ruffle their hair.

Your biggest issue? English wasn’t your first language. It meant you missed things in class and in passing with other students. Maybe that was part of why your smile was so prominent. You didn’t get half of the negative things that gossiped about. You could live in your world at times and spread the positivity that you saw.

But then Professor Flitwick held you back after class. He had your most recent essay in front of him and a frown on his face.

“This essay is simply illegible,” he said.

You mimicked his frown as you looked at your impeccable handwriting.

“Mit?”

“It’s incomprehensible. Makes no sense.”

“Ah. Can I… ah, írj… write again?”

“Yes, I was going to ask you to. With the help of Remus Lupin. He’ll meet you in the library tonight after dinner.”

He handed you the essay. You reread your work. You thought that it made sense, but apparently not. You tucked it into your bag and offered the professor your thanks before leaving his classroom. For the rest of your day whenever you had downtime in classes, you took out the essay and reread what you wrote, trying to see where you had room for improvement. Something must’ve gotten dropped or left out during your translating. It’s your main focus for all of dinner, making it easier to block out the conversations that are happening around you.

You hugged your friends after you were done eating. You’d see them in the common room later and now, you needed to go to the library. You quickly scanned the library when you got there, trying to see if Remus was there already. You found him at a table near the back.

“Remus, hi!” you said as you sat down right night to him, moving your chair as close to him as you could and knocking your knees together.

The look he gave you was unreadable. You were blissfully unaware of how your closeness and brief moment of touching threw him off. He was relatively closed off to anyone who wasn’t a close friend. As bubbly and sociable as you were, you didn’t qualify.

“Rewriting that essay for Flitwick, right?” he asked before subtly moving his chair away from you.

“Yes! Thank you for help.”

You pulled out your first attempt of the essay along with your Charms book, fresh parchment, your quill and ink. Everything you needed.

“And….” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your Hungarian to English dictionary that you carried with you. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“May I read what you wrote?” Remus asked, slowly reaching for your essay.

You slid it toward him with your hand barely brushing his. While he took the time to read your essay and occasionally scribble notes in the margins, you opened your textbook to the section you were supposed to be using. The air was still for a few minutes. You prepared to rewrite an entire essay and handle the criticism.

Remus cleared his throat when he finished reading. He placed the essay down back in front of you.

“It’s not bad, but I agree with Flitwick. There are sections that, erm, I can’t read. I noted which ones.” He reached to point to what he was referring to. “But the overall content is fine.”

You placed your hand over his. “You think so?”

“Wouldn’t have it if I didn’t mean it.”

You read over his notes and started to rewrite your essay. Remus watched you work for a few minutes before he took out his assignments to work on. He snuck glances at you, telling himself that he was just checking your progress. It definitely wasn’t to watch you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused. It wasn’t to see you twist your lips as you reread your essay and his notes. And he most certainly didn’t smile at the way the candle light made your eyes shine.

“I think… I think I fixed it? Can you read?” you asked, setting your quill down.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can read it.”

Remus set aside his own work and took your essay. Without the confusing segments, the essay was much better. Remus nodded, giving it back to you once he finished reading it.

“Flitwick will like that one. Much better.”

The smile that you gave Remus took his breath away. Almost as much as when you then leaned in to hug him. He awkwardly patted your arms as they wrapped around him from the side. You barely knew him and yet here you were, hugging him as if you were lifelong friends.

“Thank you, Remus,” you said before letting go.

You started to pack your things away and Remus returned to his assignments. He tried to steady his breathing and heart rate. He expected that to be the end of the interaction. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder, pausing to look at Remus while he worked.

“Could you help more? Essays are hard,” you said, your voice soft.

Remus looked up to see your pleading eyes.

“Yeah. We can meet here on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

Your smile somehow widened.

“Thank you!”

Then you left. He watched you leave, curiosity about you flowing through his veins. He knew everyone loved you and with this short evening together, he absolutely understood why. You emanated joyful energy. You were beautiful. You were… fantastic. And you had just asked him to spend more time with you. Was it for homework? Yes, but Remus wasn’t going to let that deter him from enjoying your presence.

From then on, Remus looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays. He had classes with you and could see you during passing or meals, but those evenings in the library? You were all his. You sat mostly in silence, but you were always right next to him. Sitting too close, touching his hand, smiling at him, hugging him. He could sneak glances at you without the risk of anyone noticing how often he did so.

“Can you read, Édesem?” you asked, sliding him a Transfiguration essay you had been working on.

“Of course.”

Since that first session together, Remus didn’t usually make notes on your essays. In sections when your Hungarian messed with your English, he tapped his wand to the essay to make grammar and spelling changes. The only notes he made were when the content of the essay needed edits. He couldn't help pride he felt when he noticed your essays having fewer and fewer errors. He told himself that he was part of why that was happening.

Most of the time, you busied yourself with something else while he read over your work. Not today though. You watched him read, your eyes tracing over the scars on his face, forearms and hands. Because he was reading your essay, you stopped yourself from brushing his hair out of his eyes. It had grown a fair amount since your first session.

You sighed. “Jóképű vagy…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, not looking up from the parchment.

You flushed and looked away. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. And then Remus said your name.

“Mit?” you asked.

“Did you say something?”

“No.” Did you say that too quickly? Did you sound uncertain?

“Oh… I thought… Ah, never mind…” A moment passed. “Here’s your essay back. It’s good.”

“Thank you, Drágám,” you said with a slight smile.

“What’s that mean? Dragon?”

You knew your blush was becoming more prominent.

“It’s…” You couldn’t tell him what it actually meant. Your Hungarian pet names were supposed to your secret way was expressing your feelings. “It means friend.”

“Huh. Cool.”

He seemed to believe you. You had been calling him Drágám and Édesem for a few sessions now. He had never explicitly asked what they meant until now. He assumed that they meant something along the lines of friend, but he wanted to be sure. And now he knew.

You hugged him again before you left. Then you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks, again, Remus. I appreciate the help.”

As soon as your back was to him as you walked away, Remus brought his hand up to his cheek where your lips had just been. He used to think that the hug was overkill for the level of friendship you had and the amount of help he was giving you. A kiss, albeit on the cheek, but still a kiss? It felt like a lot.

Then he noticed the small book you accidentally left behind. The Hungarian to English dictionary. He put it in his bag. He could give it back to you when he saw you in class. Remus was positive it wasn’t something you’d want to lose. He worked for a bit longer before returning to his dorm.

As he lay in bed that night, he flipped through the dictionary. He came across words he heard you say from time to time and words you mixed up for English ones. There were a few that caught his eye as he lazily scanned the pages. Édesem and Drágám were two of the big ones. The little nicknames you had called him and they certainly didn’t mean friend.

He closed the book, setting it on his bedside table with a deep blush covering his entire face. You had been calling him terms of endearment in your native tongue. Did you call everyone that? As he observed you in the past few weeks, he noticed that you hugged a lot of people. You seemed to have a lot of love to give, not that it was a bad thing. But he hadn’t paid attention to how you spoke to others. He knew he needed to. He needed to know if these terms were your normal vocabulary or reserved for your study buddy.

He found you the next day before Charms to give you the dictionary back.

“You left this last night. Thought you’d like it back.”

“Remus! Köszönöm, jóképű! Thank you!”

As if to enforce his observations, you pulled him into a hug and then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I would be dead without this,” you said as you pulled back.

He gave you a polite smile and made his way to his desk. He knew he had interrupted your conversation with your friends and now he was kicking himself for not trying to listen to how you spoke before he interrupted or lingering after you let him go. He also regretted not having the dictionary any more. Jóképű? That was a new name. What if that one really did mean friend?

He figured he’d just have to wait.

And he did. He waited until your next study session together. He planned to wait until you let one of the pet names slip and he’d ask you about it again.

It didn’t take long.

“Hello, Drágám,” you said cheerfully as you walked up to your usual table.

Remus waited until you sat down and subconsciously moved your chair closer to his, like you did every time.

“There it is again, Drágám.”

“Mit?” you asked, tilting your head as you looked at Remus. There was something new in his warm honey eyes that made you melt.

“Drágám. The name I asked you about.”

You cleared your throat. “Right. Friend.”

Then he chuckled.

“It doesn’t mean friend,” he said matter-of-factly. He gestured to your bag where he knew the dictionary was tucked away. “I… I, ah, I looked it up.”

Your face burned bright red within seconds.

“You looked it up?”

“I was flipping through the pages. Curious, you know. And I, erm, I came across it. Precious? Honey? And the other one… Éde-something.”

“Édesem,” you whispered, the sinking feeling of embarrassment covering you from head to toe. You wanted to disappear into your chair.

“Sweetheart,” he said.

He didn’t look angry when he said that. If anything, he looked nervous.

“What was it that you called me when I gave you the dictionary back? I couldn’t look it up… Obviously.”

You bit your lip before saying, “Friend?”

Remus chuckled and then gestured to your bag. “Do you mind if I check?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached into your bag to grab the small book. You handed it to Remus without looking at him.

“It was… ahem, jóképű,” you said in a small voice.

Remus flipped through the pages until he found it. Then his face was covered in a matching shade of red. Handsome. It seemed to glare at him from the page. He swallowed thickly before allowing him to look at you.

You were staring at your hands, which were clasped in front of you on the table. He slowly reached out and placed his on top of yours.

“Do you say that to all of your friends?” he whispered.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice or your own words.

“Édesem, please look at me,” he said.

Your heart leapt at him using the endearment back at you. He was using it to refer to you, right? The sweet look on his face only made you think that he was. He leaned in slightly.

“Do you really think I’m… joke… ah, I can’t pronounce it…”

“I do…”

You slid one of your hands out from under his to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s a… um, előnye… a…” You then held up a finger and reached for the dictionary. After a moment of you scanning a few pages, you continued, “It’s a perk of studying with you.”

“And I thought I was the only one with that perk,” Remus said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?”

“Having a pretty study mate. Bit distracting for getting work done, but nice all the same.”

You gave him a confused look so he continued.

“Édesem, you’re breathtaking. And I really like being near you, working with you, helping you. It’s the highlight of my day.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your blush once again deepening.

This time it was Remus who removed a hand to move some of your hair. He tucked it behind your ear before letting his hand rest on the side of your face.

“Can I… ah… Can…” he stuttered before leaning in more.

You could feel his breath on your face as he kept moving closer. And then you realized what he was doing a moment after his lips brushed yours. You leaned into the kiss as your silent way of accepting it.

Translations from google translate

Mit - what

Írj - write

Édesem - honey/sweetheart

Drágám - my precious

Jóképű vagy - you’re so handsome

Köszönöm, jóképű - thank you, handsome

Előnye - advantage/benefit/perk

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #Hungarian!reader

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spencessocks · 1 day ago

Note

bucky AND spencer??!!! are you my brain? my brain has a tumblr? but seriously im so happy you exist.

i was originally coming to say how in ‘through the silence’ the theme and the conversation could be the same (okay maybe just similar) with post prison spencer x reader and how he is trying to get back to reality and leave prison behind

love you xx

a/n: omfg what... im literally going to eat ur face... this sort of got a little longer than i intended and it took me a while because i was busy with work so im sorry!😭😭 but thank u so much omg i was reeling from this ask, ur so sweet and ilysm!!!

what remains

summary: after spencer returns from prison, the trauma he endured drives a wedge between him and the one person who loves him most.

pairing: postprison!spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 6.8k

warnings: sad spencer, sad reader, everyones sad, reader drinks like a sip of wine

the apartment is quiet when spencer walks in. it’s late—again. you don’t know where he goes, but he never offers, and you’ve stopped asking.

he drops his keys onto the counter with a dull clink, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and you watch from your place on the couch, heart aching at the sight of him. he looks different now. he's been home for months, but the man who walked through your door after prison isn’t the same one who left.

“hey,” you say gently, closing your book and setting it aside.

he glances at you but doesn’t hold your gaze for long. “hey.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat. “did you eat?”

“i'm not hungry.” his answer is clipped, automatic, the same response he’s given you almost every night since he’s been back.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy. that things would be different and he wouldn’t be the same. you had told yourself that over and over in the days leading up to his return, had braced yourself for the changes.

but you'd had hope—hope that, with time, things would settle. that he would come back to you—not just physically, but in the ways that mattered. that he would find his way back to the man he used to be, the man who used to curl up beside you on the couch, rambling about his latest case or a book he was reading. the man who used to laugh, used to smile, used to pull you into his arms like you were the safest place in the world.

but you had underestimated the impression this whole ordeal would leave on him.

it wasn't just in the way he carried himself, the way exhaustion clung to his frame or how the light in his eyes had dimmed. it was deeper than that. it was in the way he recoiled from touch when he used to seek it, in the way his voice lacked the excitement and curiosity it once held. in the distance that stretched between you, widening a little more each day, despite your best efforts to close it.

prison had carved something out of him, something you weren’t sure could ever be replaced. he had been home for months, but a harsh reality was starting to settle in you—that some wounds don’t heal the way you expect them to. some stay raw, lingering beneath the surface, invisible until they make themselves known in quiet moments—in the silence at the dinner table, in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way he flinches at your touch, in the walls he keeps building no matter how hard you try to tear them down.

he didn’t talk about what happened in there, and you didn’t press—even if sometimes curiosity clawed at you. but every laconic response, every empty stare, every night he disappeared without explanation told you more than words ever could. he was still there, trapped in a place you couldn’t seem to reach, and no matter how badly you wanted to, you weren’t sure you ever would.

you exhale slowly, measuring your words before speaking. "spencer, you know what i'm going to say." your voice is soft, careful, but it still makes him flinch, just barely.

"i'm fine," he mutters, turning away from you.

you hesitate, just for a moment, before the words slip out. a quiet, almost embarrassed whisper in the stillness of the room.

"will you at least sit with me for a little while?"

you regret the question the second it leaves your mouth, second-guessing yourself as soon as the vulnerability hits you. it sounds so small, so simple—sit with me, like it’s not asking for much, but in a way, it feels like you’re begging. you feel humiliation crawl up your neck.

"we don't have to talk," you add quickly, trying to soften the weight of your words. "we can just—"

"i'm tired," he interrupts, voice hollow. he’s already moving toward the bedroom, like he can't get away fast enough.

you stare blanky at him, his back already turned to you. you don't say anything. you can't. the words get stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled up with the shock and the sting of his dismissal. you just sit there, still as stone, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog.

it shouldn't surprise you—this response, this distance, the way he shuts you out without a second thought. it’s been happening for weeks now, a slow unraveling of something that once felt unbreakable. and yet, it does surprise you.

because you still hoped—that he would just sit with you. that it couldn't possibly be that bad that your own husband couldn't sit on the the same goddamn couch as you.

you don’t know if your lack of response matters. maybe it does. maybe that’s why he hesitates in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame as if he's weighing his options. for a second, you think he might turn around, might give you something—anything. but then, just as quickly, he lets go and disappears into the darkness of the bedroom.

you sit there, motionless, as the door to the bedroom clicks shut behind him. the sound feels final, sharp.

the interaction plays in your head. "i'm tired."

the look on his face—or the lack of one. there’s nothing there. no fight, no frustration, not even the faintest trace of a desire to make things right.

you blink, once, twice, trying to shake the fog from your brain, but the shock is still there, thick in your chest. it’s like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, buzzing through your veins. you don’t know what to do with it. how to process it.

at this point, you can hardly recognize yourself. the person you used to be—before all this. you would have never let spencer walk away from that. you would’ve confronted him, spoken your truth, demanded that he listen. you were an opinionated person, it wasn't like you to let someone walk over you—spencer liked that about you. you would’ve never felt embarrassed by something so simple, so vulnerable, said to the man you loved.

the anger bubbles up, creeping through the shock like a slow poison, and suddenly, your skin feels tight. it feels wrong. how dare he? how can he just walk away, leave you in this empty room, in this awful, suffocating silence, after everything you’ve been through together?

surely, you wouldn't do this to him. that thought had crossed your mind before, only to be quickly pushed away by the reminder that you couldn't possibly know what he was going through—what he felt in that place.

but now, the thought clung to you, insistent, refusing to be ignored and with it came another. maybe he didn’t know how to let go of you—maybe he was too afraid to say the words, so instead, he kept hurting you without even realizing it. maybe he thought pulling away was easier than facing the truth. if the roles were reversed, you'd seek him out, wanting his comfort, his presence. so why wasn't he doing the same for you? why was he so unwilling to lean on you—when he had done it a million times before?

the pulse in your neck quickens, blood rushing, and you grip the edge of the couch, knuckles white. you don't even realize you're standing now, the instinct to do something, anything, pushing you forward. your breath comes quick and shallow as frustration and disbelief twist inside you like a knot that you can't untangle.

what are you supposed to do with this? what are you supposed to do when your own husband looks at you like you’re nothing—like you’re some kind of inconvenience he just can’t deal with tonight?

your body moves on its own, your legs carrying you to the door as if they have a will of their own—pyjamas and slippers be damned—the front door slams shut behind you with an almost violent finality. the apartment feels suffocating now, the weight of his absence, of his rejection, too much to bear. you need to leave.

you don’t bother to grab your phone. what would be the point? there’s nothing to say to him anymore—if he would even call. not when you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t even explain to yourself, a frustration and sadness mixing into something unrecognizable.

you walk fast, too fast, the cold air biting at your skin, and it helps. the briskness of the night, the sting of it, gives you a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than the gnawing emptiness inside you. you don’t want to sit in that silence any longer, don’t want to stew in your thoughts, trapped in that apartment where the echoes of your broken attempts at connection are suffocating.

jj’s place isn’t far—just a few blocks—but it might as well be a world away. the walk feels like an eternity, but it’s the only thing you can control right now. you don't have to think about spencer. you don’t have to think about him.

you find yourself at jj’s door, your breath coming out in white clouds, and for the first time tonight, you feel a brief flicker of something approaching relief. you knock twice, hard, before pulling back and pressing your forehead against the doorframe, closing your eyes, letting the coolness of it ground you. what the hell am i doing?

when she opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of you, but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she just steps aside, pulling you in with a soft, understanding smile.

“you okay?” she asks gently, though you know she already knows the answer.

you nod, but only because you don't trust your voice not to break if you speak. she doesn’t push, just closes the door behind you and leads you to the couch. you sit without a word, leaning back against the cushions, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like months, you let yourself breathe.

jj moves toward the kitchen without a word, and you hear the familiar sound of glasses clinking, followed by the admittedly soothing pour of wine. she returns with a glass in each hand, her expression knowing. she hands you one and sits down beside you, settling into the cushions with the kind of ease that makes you wish you could do the same.

"talk to me,” she says, her voice quiet, but firm enough to break the silence that’s settled between you. it’s not a question, really—more like a gentle command, the kind that only someone who knows you can give.

you let out a breath, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where to even begin. everything feels like a mess. but her presence, her calm, makes you feel like you might find the strength to sort it out.

“spencer—" you stop yourself, the words catching in your throat. you shake your head, a laugh escaping your lips at the disbelief of your situation. "i don’t even know what to say anymore. i don’t know how we got here. it’s like i don’t even know who he is anymore.”

jj listens, her eyes steady, her hands wrapped around her own glass, but her gaze never wavers. she’s waiting. you know she won’t interrupt.

“i thought... i thought he’d come back to me, you know?” the words slip out before you can stop them, and the sadness that follows hits you harder than anything before. “i thought, with time, things would get better. that i could get him back, the way he was. but... it’s like he’s not even here anymore. i don’t know how to reach him. and when i try, it feels like he just shuts me out more.”

you swallow hard, feeling a sharp sting behind your eyes. it feels pathetic, but you can’t stop it now. you can’t stop the flood of everything that’s been building up, everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

“he’s gone, jj. and i don’t know how to be with someone who’s... not really here,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word.

jj doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you breathe, lets you sit with it for a moment. “i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but he’s not gone. he’s just... changed. and change is hard. for both of you.”

you scoff softly, shaking your head. “i feel like i'm going crazy."

jj watches you carefully, her gaze unwavering as she processes your words. you feel exhausted—physically, emotionally—like the weight of the past few months has finally settled on your shoulders all at once.

jj studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, she exhales, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. “you’re not crazy,” she says simply. “you’re grieving.”

that catches you off guard. you blink at her. “grieving?”

she nods. “yeah. you’re grieving the life you had before. the spencer you had before.” she pauses. “and maybe... the version of yourself that existed before all this.”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you want to argue, to tell her it’s not that simple, that you’re not mourning spencer like he’s some lost cause, but—god—doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? doesn’t it feel like the person you knew, the person you loved, is slipping further and further away?

jj sighs, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “i know what it’s like to watch someone you love disappear into themselves. to feel helpless while they struggle with something you can’t fix.” her voice is softer now, careful, like she’s walking a tightrope. “it’s terrifying.”

your fingers tighten around your wine glass. “so what do i do?” the question comes out more fragile than you want it to, barely above a whisper.

she’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “you—" her words are interrupted by an abrupt sound. jj’s phone is ringing, sharp and sudden in the quiet of the room. you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat before you even see the name on the screen. but you already know.

spencer.

panic grips you, fast and unrelenting, and before you can think, the words spill out. “don’t answer it.”

jj hesitates, glancing at the phone on the coffee table. the screen glows with his name, the sound vibrating between you like a living thing. “he’s your husband,” she says gently, but her fingers hover over the screen instead of answering.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, shaking your head. “please, jj. don’t.”

she studies you, eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to gauge just how serious you are. if she picks up, you’ll have to hear him—his voice, his clipped tone, his inevitable question: where are you? and what then? you don’t have an answer.

jj sighs, silencing the call but not declining it. the ringing stops, but the silence that follows is almost worse.

“you know he’s worried,” she says carefully. “you left without your phone. you think he’s just going to let that go?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i just—I can’t do this right now. fuck.”

jj shifts closer, her voice calm but firm. “running won’t fix this.”

you let out a short, bitter laugh. “staying hasn't."

she doesn’t have an answer for that.

jj watches you carefully, then sighs. “stay here as long as you need. but at some point, you have to decide—are you going home? or are you walking away?”

your arm is moving suddenly, the wine glass at your lips. her words settle over you like a weight. and for the first time, you realize—you don’t know.

jj's phone buzzes again, and you flinch at the sight of spencer’s name lighting up the screen. the call goes to voicemail, and for a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.

the phone rings a second time. you can almost hear spencer’s voice in your head, the exact tone he always takes when he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll answer it,” jj says softly, but the words feel like a concession rather than a promise. she picks up the phone, and her thumb hovers over the screen.

you don’t stop her, but you wish you could. you wish you could shut everything down, turn it all off.

“spencer?” jj says, her voice calm, controlled.

you close your eyes, hearing his voice crackle through the speaker.

“jj... is she there?” spencer’s voice sounds worn, tight with something just beneath the surface. you can hear the familiar threads of guilt and concern tangled in his words. “i—i don’t know where she went. she just… she left without saying anything.”

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“yeah, she's here.” jj finally responds, her words careful. “but she's not ready to talk to you right now, spencer.”

a long pause follows. you can hear spencer’s breath, shallow, like he’s holding something back.

“i just... i just need to know she's okay,” he says, the frustration and desperation clear in his voice. “please.”

you wince at the pleading in his words. it cuts through you in a way you hadn’t expected.

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable, before she glances down at the phone again. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“she’s fine,” jj says, with a note of finality. “but I think you need to give her some time. she’s been through a lot, spencer. you both have.”

“time?” Spencer’s voice cracks. “jj, i don’t—“

but she cuts him off. “i’m not getting in the middle of this. just... take care of yourself for now, okay? you’ll talk when she’s ready. she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

the phone goes silent for a moment, and then the faint click of the line disconnecting. jj pulls the phone away from her ear and sets it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh.

jj sits back, her gaze still trained on you, like she’s waiting for something.

the silence in the room feels heavier now. It presses against your chest, and the weight of it makes your thoughts swirl faster than they should. spencer’s voice still echoes in your mind—i just need to know she's okay. you don’t want to admit it, but the desperation in his words cuts deeper than you anticipated. you don’t want to feel guilty. but it settles over you, thick and unavoidable, as you sit on jj’s couch, the comfort of her presence fading into the background.

“he sounded worried,” you murmur, more to yourself than to jj.

she nods, watching you carefully. “of course he’s worried.”

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t think he’d care that much.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, because the truth is, you had wanted him to care. you had wanted him to call, to ask where you were, to prove—at least to himself—that there was still something left between you worth saving.

and he did.

he did.

but now, sitting here, away from him, away from that apartment, the weight of your actions starts creeping in, cold and insidious.

you left.

you walked out without a word.

you knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to reach for someone and find nothing but empty space. and now you’ve done the same to him.

the realization makes your chest tighten, and suddenly, the fight, the frustration, the resentment—it all feels distant, overshadowed by something heavier. something closer to shame.

jj shifts beside you, her voice quiet but knowing. “you’re thinking about going back.”

you shake your head quickly. “i don’t know.” but it’s a lie. you do know.

you inhale sharply, pressing your palm to your forehead, trying to ground yourself. “god, what am I doing, jj?”

“you’re allowed to feel this, you know,” she says simply. “you’re allowed to be angry. to be hurt. to need space.”

you swallow hard, blinking down at your hands. they feel foreign to you, like they belong to someone else. “i just—” you hesitate, voice cracking slightly. “i just got so mad. he was so dismissive of me, and i couldn't be there anymore.”

“i know.”

you stare down at your lap, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sweater.

you shake your head, guilt curling in your chest. “but that’s not me, jj. that’s not who I am. i don’t just… walk away. i got angry and i overreacted.”

she sighs. “one moment doesn't define you. things are different now. you've never been in a situation like this before,” she pauses. “sometimes you have to walk away, to get your thoughts in order."

"it would've been worse if you blew up at him." she added.

"i think i still might." you said with a dry laugh.

jj smiled slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned back, “you’ve always been the one to hold things together,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to remind you that it was okay to break sometimes. “but you can’t hold it all in forever. and sometimes… sometimes you need space to breathe, to think. you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

you let out a breath, unsure of what to say next. jj was always good at cutting through the noise, but the guilt still sat heavily in your chest. you couldn’t escape the feeling that walking away—no matter how much you needed to—had been the wrong choice.

jj watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “listen, i know it feels like you did something wrong by leaving, but you didn’t. you needed space. that’s not the same as giving up.”

you nod slowly, staring down at your hands, but you don’t respond.

jj sighs, then reaches over and squeezes your arm. "look, if there’s anyone who understands why you did what you did, it’s spencer. he has spent his life studying human behavior—figuring out how they think and why they do what they do. spencer knows exactly why you walked out, even if he won't admit it. he knows it was about needing space, about trying to make sense of everything that’s been building up between you.”

she pauses, giving you a reassuring look. “this isn’t the end. this is just a bump in the road—you'll go back when you're ready, and you'll start working through it all."

spencer knows why you left.

the thought lingers, easing the guilt that’s been clawing at you since you walked out. maybe that’s why he didn’t come after you. maybe, in his own way, he understood that you needed this moment to step back, to breathe, to process.

you hope—no, you need—to believe that he’s coming to his own realization. that in the quiet of your absence, in the stillness of an apartment that no longer holds your presence, he’s starting to understand. that maybe, just maybe, he’s replaying every word, every moment, and seeing where it all went wrong.

you want him to recognize that pushing you away was a mistake. that shutting you out, closing himself off instead of letting you in, only built more distance between you. and most of all, you hope he understands now—truly understands—that love isn’t about shutting doors, but about keeping them open, even when it’s hard.

the irony of the situation dawns on you. sitting here, hoping he comes to the right conclusion on his own, won’t change anything. no matter how hurt or frustrated you are, you know one thing for certain—you aren’t going to push him away the way he did to you.

you glance at jj, her eyes soft with understanding, and suddenly, you don’t feel as lost as you did before.

“i have to go back,” you murmur, the words feeling right the moment they leave your lips.

jj studies you for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i figured.” there’s no judgment in her voice, only quiet support.

you stand, but before you can say anything, jj speaks again. “i’m driving you.”

you blink at her. “jj, i can—”

"it’s late, and it’s cold,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “and i know you. you’ll spend the entire walk overthinking, or worse, you’ll turn around and come right back here.”

you open your mouth to argue, but she raises an eyebrow, daring you to fight her on this. you sigh, giving in. “fine. i'll still overthink in the car though.”

jj smirks as she grabs her keys. "yeah, but at least this way, you’ll be overthinking with heated seats and no risk of getting hit by a rogue cyclist."

you roll your eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "alright, alright. guess I’ll overthink in comfort then." you step outside, the weight of everything that’s about to unfold on your back.

the ride back is quiet, the streets nearly empty as jj navigates the familiar roads. you stare out the window, your finger spinning your wedding band, mind racing with all the possibilities of what comes next.

you wonder how it will be when you walk through that door. will he be surprised to see you? will he be angry? will he apologize? the questions swirl in your mind, but you push them aside—you'll find out in a few minutes either way.

jj pulls up in front of the apartment building and turns to you, her expression gentle. “you don’t have to fix everything tonight,” she reminds you. “just… put all your cards on the table. don't sugarcoat anything.”

you nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation. "thank you, jj," you say softly, giving her a small smile. "i don’t know what i would’ve done without you tonight."

she smiles back, her eyes warm with understanding. "you’ll be fine. just be honest, that’s all you can do."

with a final nod, you push the door open, the cold air immediately hitting you as you step out onto the sidewalk. your heart is pounding in your chest, each step towards the apartment feeling heavier than the last.

you twist the handle, it's unlocked, but you hesitate before pushing the door open, gathering your courage in the silent hallway. when you finally step inside, the apartment is quiet—but not empty. a single lamp illuminates the living room, casting long shadows across the walls.

and there's spencer, sitting on the couch hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he looks up at the sound of the door, and for a brief moment, his face is completely unguarded. relief washes over his features, followed quickly by something that looks almost like fear. he stands immediately, his movements stiff and uncertain.

"you came back," he says, his voice hoarse.

you close the door behind you, still standing near the threshold. "i started feeling guilty." you sighed, jj's voice in the back of your head—just be honest.

spencer swallows, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "guilty?" he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

spencer exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you shouldn't feel guilty," he murmurs, then shakes his head. "i mean, it makes sense,” he says quickly, his words picking up speed.

“studies show that guilt is often a response to perceived moral transgressions rather than actual wrongdoing. it’s the brain’s way of enforcing social cohesion—an evolutionary mechanism designed to maintain interpersonal relationships by making us feel responsible for potential harm, even when no actual harm has been inflicted.”

you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and amusement as he rambled on. it was as if, in the middle of all this, the man you once knew had momentarily resurfaced. even if what he was saying wasn’t at all what you needed to hear right now, a part of you couldn't help but recognize the familiarity in it—the way he always got lost in his thoughts, trying to explain things when he didn’t quite know how to connect.

he shifts on his feet, his words picking up speed. “and in this case, your reaction makes perfect sense. you removed yourself from a heightened emotional situation in order to regulate your response, which, psychologically speaking, is a far healthier alternative to reactive conflict. but then, the cognitive dissonance sets in—the part where your brain tells you that leaving contradicts your usual patterns of behavior, and that discrepancy triggers guilt, even if logically—”

“spencer,” you interrupt gently.

his mouth snaps shut, and for a second, there’s just silence. a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, and you realize—he’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say. because this is easier for him than actually talking about what matters.

you step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you. “i don’t need an analysis,” you tell him gently. "i just want you to tell me what's going on."

spencer’s gaze flickers for a moment, like he’s trying to find the words, trying to make sense of the situation. "i never wanted you to feel like you needed to leave," he says, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “but i didn’t exactly make it easy for you to stay.”

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, the weight of everything you haven’t said pressing heavily on your chest. "no, you didn’t," you admit, your voice just above a whisper.

his expression tightens, a flash of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before he looks away.

"i've been trying," he says quietly. "i have."

"have you?" the question comes out sharper than you intended, but you don't soften it. "because from where i'm standing, it feels like you've been doing everything possible to push me away."

spencer's gaze snaps back to you, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you take another step forward, emboldened by the surge of emotions you've held back for too long. "you won't talk to me. you won't look at me. you won't even sit next to me on the couch. what am i supposed to think, spencer?"

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "it's not that simple," he says, his voice strained. "i want to be the person you remember, but i don't know if i can be that man anymore."

the admission hits you like a physical blow. "i'm not asking you to be exactly who you were before," you say softly. "i know that's not possible. i just... i need you to be present. to talk to me. to not shut me out completely."

spencer is quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on some point beyond you. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. "i don't know how to explain what it was like in there."

your breath catches. this is the closest he's come to talking about prison since he's been home. you don't know if you should say something. you hold your breath, afraid that if you move or speak, he'll retreat again.

his eyes are distant, far away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even aware of how much you’re hanging on his every word. finally, he exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“being in there… it broke something inside of me,” he says, voice low and strained. “i kept thinking about what it would be like to come back, to be here, with you. and then i just—" he paused for a moment. "i had to do something really bad. i had to do things in there that… things i never thought i would do."

"i hate myself for it. every second of it." his voice breaks on the last word, he shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair, frustration and guilt radiating from him.

"i wasn't just a victim in there—i became someone i don't even recognize anymore. i did things that went against everything i ever believed in, everything i told myself i would never do."

he looks at you now, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes—the deep-rooted shame and the self-loathing that’s consumed him. "and now i’m back here, with you, and i don’t even know who i am anymore. i’ve become this person who did unforgivable things. you don't deserve someone like me, someone who’s capable of—of that." he gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that’s happened to him.

"is that why you've been pushing me away?" you ask softly. "because you think i won't love who you are now?"

he doesn't answer, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you everything.

"baby," you whisper, shifting closer to him. "nothing could change how I see you."

you take a slow, unsteady breath, searching for the right words—any words—but everything feels inadequate. how do you explain something that goes beyond language?

"god, spencer," you exhale, shaking your head. "i wish i was better at this. i wish i had the right words, i wish i was some kind of poet, and that i could say the right things to make you understand, but i'm not."

you finally close the gap between you two and take his hands, gripping them tightly, pressing them against your chest as if somehow, if he just feels the way your heart beats for him, he’ll finally understand.

"it’s frustrating," you continue, voice thick with emotion. "because what i feel for you—it’s bigger than me. it’s bigger than words. i can’t explain it, and i hate that, because i need you to know. i need you to understand that this isn’t something breakable, something you can ruin, something you can chase away just because you think you should."

he swallows hard, his fingers curling around yours, but he doesn’t speak. maybe he can’t.

"i swear, spencer, if there was a way to pull this feeling out of me and give it to you, i would. if i could make you see yourself the way i see you, make you understand that what you did—what you had to do—doesn’t make you unworthy of love, i would do it in a heartbeat." your voice breaks slightly, tears now lining your eyes. "because i don’t just love you. it’s not that simple. it’s not just some feeling, some thing i could ever put into words. it’s more. it doesn’t begin or end with what you’ve done, or what’s happened to you, or who you think you’ve become. it just is."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eye are now wet, shining under the dim apartment light, his lips parted slightly like he wants to argue but can’t find the strength to. because maybe, just maybe, for the first time—he’s starting to believe you.

"i just wish—i wish you could feel it," you murmur, voice breaking. "i wish you could step into my skin, into my heart, and know how much i love you."

you don’t realize you’re crying until he reaches up, hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he touches you. his hand is shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

spencer’s expression falters, something breaking inside of him, and when he finally—finally—pulls you into his arms, it’s not desperate or frantic. his arms wrap around you slowly, almost reverently, as though he's trying to let the feeling of your love wash over him, to understand it the way you do.

at first, it’s just the slightest tremble in his shoulders, so faint you almost miss it. but then you feel it—the shaky exhale against your neck, the way his fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid to let go. and then, slowly, silently, he starts to break.

his breath hitches, and before he can stop it, a quiet sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes, all the pain and guilt unraveling all at once, and all you can do is hold him through it. his hands grasp at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the present, like if he lets go, he’ll disappear into everything he’s been trying so hard to contain.

you don’t say anything. you don’t tell him it’s okay, because you know he wouldn’t believe it. or maybe because it isn't. but it will be. you'll make sure of that.

your fingers thread through his hair, your lips press against his temple, and you whisper the same words over and over, a promise and a lifeline: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything that’s happened still lingering in the air between you. but it’s different now. lighter, somehow. not because everything is fixed—there are still conversations to have, wounds to tend to, pieces of him he hasn’t shown you yet.

but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re on the same side again. you’re not standing in separate corners, silently blaming each other for things you can’t control.

the weight in your chest, the anxiety that has gnawed at you since that day you got the call about him being detained, begins to fade. you don’t need to fix everything tonight. you don’t need to have all the answers.

his breathing begins to steady, the tears slowing, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a raw whisper as he says the only thing he can in this moment. “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “i know,” you whisper.

there's a beat of silence. "i've been having nightmares," he says, his voice so low you have to strain to hear him. "almost every night. that's where i go sometimes—i walk before going to bed. i walk so that i'm exhausted enough that my mind shuts down."

the sudden admission breaks your heart—but there's also a part of you that feels relief. relief that he wasn't turning to something worse or someone else to numb the pain.

"spencer, you could have told me." you said, fingers rubbings patterns into his back.

"i didn't want to burden you more than i already have," he says, shaking his head. "you've already been through so much because of me."

"that's not how this works," you say, squeezing his hand. "just forget all of that, okay? things will be different now. you not talking to me hurts more than that ever could."

he leans into you, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "for pushing you away. for making you feel like you weren't enough. you've always been enough."

you lift a hand to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you take in the exhaustion lining his features—the weight he’s been carrying alone for too long. slowly, carefully, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. just a warm, quiet reassurance that you’re here, that you’re staying.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "do you want to go to bed?" he asks, voice low.

you pause for a moment, you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until his mention of sleep. your shoulders feel heavy, and your body aches from the emotional toll it’s taken.

a deep, almost instinctual sigh escapes your lips, and you nod softly, “yeah."

spencer squeezes your hand gently and leads you toward the bedroom. the moment the covers are pulled back, you slip under the soft sheets, the cool fabric against your skin offering the smallest comfort after everything you've been through. spencer follows you in, his body warm and reassuring as he settles beside you.

he moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. his presence, steady and constant, washes over you like a balm, soothing the frantic, scattered thoughts in your mind.

his hand moves slowly up and down your back, the rhythm soothing, and you realize just how much you've missed this—missed him.

you close your eyes, letting the weight of everything melt away as you drift closer to sleep. spencer’s voice is soft, a comforting murmur as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"i love you."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #prison reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #postprison!spencer

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