#when i saw that scene in echoes of the eye for the first time i knew i had to make this and everytime i thought about outer wilds i thought
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My Hero: Arcane Fanfic
(Rough attempt at a scene I like to imagine went down in 2x05 behind the scenes)
The dim light shifted lazily with the creaking and groaning of the squalid little apartment. Jinx moved softly, not daring to risk waking Vi in this state. She had been coming to the pits for weeks since she found her… trying to work up the nerve, trying to figure out how to approach her. But she was afraid. Their last meeting hadn’t exactly gone well.
At first, she had been able to pretend there was some sick amusement to be found. Cast out by her trigger-happy Piltie girlfriend, left all alone after putting on the uniform, Violet was back where she belonged. In the muck with her people, covered in blood and sweat… but it wasn’t that simple. Jinx knew that after only the first fight.
She’s giving up…
She had watched Vi decline over the last few weeks, getting slower, not protecting herself. She went down. Hard. Almost every night. She was only making enough to fund her next drink and barely eating. She was killing herself… and all the Zaunites around her didn’t lift a fucking finger to help. Jinx had been planning on revealing herself the next time she came down anyway… and now Vander…
We have a chance… maybe we can… we can fix this…
So it was that she found herself holding her breath… until she had crept close enough to see Vi fully. Her stomach dropped, and she forced a hand into her mouth, biting down to keep from crying so hard that she drew blood.
Vi looked like a corpse. She was pale and drawn, still muscular but… not healthy. Her hair was crusted with thick black grease paint and what Jinx could only assume was dried blood. Her face, disturbed even in sleep, was a mess of white and black grease paint and bruising. She wore only black leather pants that were fraying and dirty white wraps around her chest.
“I’m sorry, Vi… I should have come for you sooner,” Jinx whispered, wiping tears away.
She looked around at the trash and empty bottles of booze and shook her head, kneeling down. She took a deep breath and started to move to gently touch Vi but stopped. This was the first time she’d really been this close to Vi without a fight or something else happening… the first time in years. She looked down at her older sister’s body clothed only in the wraps and leathers and had to choke down a sob of horror.
Vi’s body was covered in scars. She had taken plenty of licks as a kid, sure, but… her flesh was a tapestry of abuse and pain. Years of torment played out over every inch of her worn but still muscular frame. Far beyond the wear and tear of Vi’s childhood or even the meat grinder of the Undercity fighting pits. Vi had been tortured.
Jinx scrambled back quietly into a corner of the room, hugging her knees to her chest and biting down hard on a strip of leather from her cloak to keep from sobbing out loud. She shuddered, trying not to wake Violet, as she heard her voice from that day they first saw each other again:
“I tried to come back, I promise I did, but… I got arrested.”
Vi’s voice echoed in her mind.
Seven years… seven years in that goddamn place. Jinx gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. She thought back to Vi begging her to come with her, to just pick up and go. Telling her she loved her and how sorry she was. Sorry for what?! Getting kidnapped and thrown in a place where they did that?!
Jinx curled up tight and bit down on the leather so hard she was afraid her teeth would shatter. She remembered Vi’s hand on her cheek when they were little. Telling her how strong she was, how she couldn’t lose her…
Finally, she was able to stand slowly, wiping her eyes. She walked forward carefully, making sure not to step on anything that would wake Vi before she was ready. She looked to the dingy little cracked mirror on the wall and saw a black stick of grease paint, smiling sadly as she picked it up and whispered:
“Well… if you choke me out when I wake you, at least I get to go out looking like my hero,” she whispered, leaning down and gently blowing across Vi’s hair before going to the mirror and marking her name on her cheek.
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Special Weapons and Tactics
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader
Rating: Teen (for now)
Summary: You’re an FBI SWAT agent sent to a scene that the BAU is in charge of. There, you meet the team, specifically SSA Aaron Hotchner.
Content Warnings: Male!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, non-descriptive mentions of PTSD, canon-typical violence
A/N: I’ve been sitting on this fic for a while and I’m happy to share it with you! I’m about half way done with it and will be finishing it as I post the chapters. I will post about every couple weeks just so I have time to keep up with writing. I also have two Spotify playlists on my page for Criminal Minds if you want to check them out!!
Also available on AO3
July 2010
“Listen up. Target’s name is Lucas Bryant. This guy’s got a military background and possibly suffers from PTSD. He’s using various military paraphernalia to subdue his victims, believes his killings were righteous, and believes he’s at war with us, so approach with extreme caution. There’s a high chance that he won’t let himself be captured. The BAU believes he’s holed up in an attic, upstairs, or basement of some sort. Meet the BAU Unit Chief when we arrive.”
Various, “yes, sir’s,” echoed in the tactical van. Metal sliding against metal followed as last-minute weapons checks commenced.
“ETA is two minutes.”
I had been in the middle of poring over a case file when I got the SWAT mobilization order to a house in northern Virginia and was happy to step away. Words had been swimming on the pages of the file for the last couple of hours, so I’d been restless and itching to clear my head. I let myself imagine breathing out any thought of my own cases so I could be fully focused on this one.
Before the van could fully come to a stop, we were all standing and waiting for the back doors to unlock. A sea of olive green and black emerged from the van and we followed the lead SWAT agent toward the group of agents discussing and gesturing toward the house. The house was strangely well-kept, with a maintained lawn, but “No Soliciting” signs were hung on any possible surface. The curtains were all drawn closed, putting the agents even more on edge since we had a visual disadvantage.
“They’ve been briefed, Agent Hotchner,” our lead SWAT agent notified the Unit Chief as we approached.
“Great, thank you,” the tall, dark-haired agent nodded, making eye contact with each of us to make sure we were paying attention. “We’re splitting into three groups. The first group will go with Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid to breach the front door and head upstairs, the second with Agents Prentiss and Jareau to breach the back door, and everyone else with myself and Agent Rossi to the basement. Let’s go,” he dismissed the group, and everyone split up, having seen who they’re going with since the Unit Chief pointed them out as he spoke.
I looked at each of the other's faces as he gestured to them. The only member I was familiar with was Morgan since we were both in the FBI academy at the same time. The younger one—Reid—seemed vaguely familiar but I couldn’t recall as my attention drifted back to their boss.
My group followed Hotchner and Rossi to the side of the house where two doors indicated the basement access for the house. After we secured the entrance of the basement, we formed up along the side of the house and prepared for entry. I was the last in line of SWAT agents and felt Hotchner’s hand come to my shoulder. The two metal basement doors were firmly closed, prompting our breacher to check for locks. The breacher signaled that basement door was locked and unclipped a saw from his gear. He readied himself to cut the lock, giving us a signal and making eye contact with Hotchner, behind me.
“Is everyone in position?” came Hotchner’s steady, low voice.
There was a resounding confirmation over the radio.
“Breach.”
All of the teams moved immediately. Our breacher made quick work of the lock with the saw while the next agent in line pulled a flash-bang from his vest. With the doors forced open, the breacher jumped away from the entrance while the other agent lobbed a flash-bang down the stairs. As soon as it went off, everyone was following the agent down the stairs and swarming the basement. Rossi stayed outside to watch any windows while Hotchner was the last one in behind me. By the time we arrived, the room was clear and strangely empty besides the typical basement findings. Tall, metal shelving lined the walls with nothing of much interest on them and the floor was littered with boxes and grime. A lingering musty smell permeated the air but nothing else of concern.
“Anything upstairs?” Hotchner asked into the radio.
“Nothing, Hotch.”
He was understandably irritated by that answer and ordered, “Tear this place apart.”
We all got to work as he radioed with his team back and forth, looking around the room for any clues or ideas. Agents ripped into boxes and overturned miscellaneous furniture scattered throughout the basement. Hotchner grew more frustrated by the second judging by his tone over the radio, but his face didn’t show it.
“There’s electrical running down to the ground on the south side of the house,” the older agent—Rossi—sounded over the radio.
The stoic agent’s eyes snapped to the far wall to my left and moved briskly, just short of shoving agents out of his way. His tall frame squeezed between two shelving racks, stepping on a pile of trash in between as he feels the wall.
“Do you see any seams in the bricks?” He directed the question to me, making realize I was the closest to him but far enough to examine the wall from a distance.
“N—oh—yea! A little higher!” I pointed higher up the wall and try to follow the seam down.
I noticed a faint line—no, a wire—lower on the wall ending somewhere under Hotchner’s foot. My nerves lit on fire as I realized what was happening, but I couldn’t move toward him fast enough, “Sir, wait!”
Hotchner lifted weight off one foot to stretch more, turning to look at me as I surged toward him. He started to speak, unaware of what was happening or what I’d seen, “There’s airfl—”
Hotchner was cut off when an ear-rupturing, forceful shockwave echoed throughout the basement, bouncing off the walls and causing the unprepared to stumble. He lost his footing, disoriented and thrown off balance by the concussive blast. I even stumbled back as the blast pushed past my efforts to move forward. At the same time, he and his head were thrown forward into the industrial metal racking with what should have been a sickening thud. Everyone’s ears were ringing too much to hear it. Thankfully, the SWAT agents all had on ear protection and recovered much more quickly than Hotchner.
I rushed over as the SWAT team’s medic and caught him under his armpits before he could collapse. His body was almost completely lax in my arms, so I dragged him away and propped him against a different rack.
“Sir, are you hurt anywhere else?”
There was no response, and his eyes were barely open and fluttering. I patted him down roughly but found nothing glaringly wrong besides the gushing cut to his forehead.
“Sir, can you stand?”
Nothing. Fuck.
The other SWAT agents were scrambling to open the false wall while being mindful of any more wires. I decided to radio the teams outside before I moved the agent.
“Basement team is working on a false wall. I have an agent down, in and out of consciousness from a concussion grenade. Possible head trauma. Extricating him now.”
“Copy.”
“I’m going to get you out of here, sir,” I assured him as his eyes finally fluttered shut, and his body became completely limp.
I secured my weapon and squatted low until his body could drape over my shoulders. I hooked an arm through his legs and held his dangling arm with the same hand so that I had a free hand for balance on the stairs. When he was as secure as I could get him, I quickly exited the basement, wanting to be out of there by the time they opened the false door so neither of us got shot.
I could only manage a brief nod to Rossi as I carried Hotchner’s extra weight from the stairs to the front lawn. I was keenly aware that the EMTs hadn’t been allowed in the staging area yet since Bryant wasn’t yet apprehended. I got to the edge of the front lawn before depositing him as gingerly as I could on the grass.
“Sir, can you hear me?” I raised my voice and took my helmet off, tossing it in the grass haphazardly.
Fetching a small penlight from one of my pouches, I removed my gloves and opened his eyes to check his pupils. Finding a somewhat normal reaction, I put the light away and got to work on treating his forehead, hoping the stinging would jostle him awake.
“This might sting,” I murmured to myself, basically.
I flushed the wound and press gauze firmly against it, feeling the agent below me tense with pain. His strong hand engulfed my wrist to roughly pry my hands away, but I persisted. I shoved my knee over his bicep and stapled his arm to the ground with my shin.
“Sir, relax. You’re safe,” I reassured him, maneuvering my arm so he could see my face and uniform. He was looking wildly around, probably looking for his team. “Look at me sir,” I requested and offered my rank as an SSA and my last name to him. “You have a laceration on your forehead, okay? I’m stopping the bleeding.”
His breathing began to slow, and he nodded slightly in confirmation. I took my shin off of his arm now that I knew he wouldn’t try to fight me.
“Can you tell me your name?” I began asking him some basic questions to assess for any brain damage.
“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, louder than he should have been responding but understandably so.
“Good. Do you remember the name of the target?”
“Lucas, mhm, Bryant,” he cringed as my hands worked on his head.
“Can you tell me how many fingers I have up?” I requested, pulling one of my hands away to show him three fingers.
“Three,” he squinted.
“Who’s your Section Chief?”
“Strauss.”
“Goo—,” I started but he cuts me off.
“You want my phone number, too?” he deadpanned, making me huff and smirk at the sarcasm.
“Well, do you remember it?” I challenged him, using butterfly style bandages to hold the wound closed before taping gauze over it.
He effortlessly relayed the numbers to me, giving me a pointed look as if to tell me he was fine now. “If you remember the number I’ll let you buy me coffee,” he rolled his eyes but briefly held my gaze with striking hazel eyes. He attempted to sit up, but I prevented him with a firm hand on his chest.
My brain screeched to a halt as I mentally rewound what he just said to me. Did he just flirt with me? Crap, what numbers did he just say? 5-5-5-0-4-7…6? No—8-6. I repeated them over and over in my head.
I was broken out of my stupor when I could finally hear chatter on the radio again as my ears became more attuned to our surroundings instead of just Hotchner, “Your team is fine. The target’s down.”
He relaxed a little more and I was all too aware of the hand I still had on his chest. He was, too, I saw as he quickly glanced down and then at me but didn’t mention it. I dug my hand into another pouch and brought out an ice pack, activating it with a pop, and pressing it to his head. He took over for my hand and kept the pack pressed to his head.
“Noted, by the way,” I answered his earlier challenge with an upturn at the corner of my mouth.
He gave a hum in acknowledgement. Hotchner was silent for a while, his free hand absentmindedly playing with the grass while trying to crane his head to look at the action behind him to no avail.
“It’s weird being on the other end of this,” he murmured, seemingly to no one in particular.
“What do you mean, sir?” I adjusted myself to sit on the grass more comfortably.
“Hotch,” he corrected, focusing back on me. “And, usually, I’m the one calming victims down. Yet here I am getting flustered over an operator.”
“You could have fooled me,” I laughed, my hand twitching against his chest. Whatever flustered feeling he was talking about, it wasn’t noticeable—to me at least. His features were still void of any emotion beyond the lingering worry for the mission.
“Despite having been in SWAT, the situation was…eye-opening,” his even voice invited a brief moment of mirth.
“You were straight before you went in the basement?” I joked with pursed lips.
“Pretty much,” Hotch nearly cracked a smile. The hint of it soon faded away and he made direct eye contact with me, hoping I would understand, “That’s a joke.”
I was…unsure of how to take that. It was a joke in that he actually is straight or a joke meaning that he’s not straight? Was he or was he not flirting? I mentally sighed and gave him a neutral answer just in case.
“I’m aware of how sexual orientation works, sir,” I forced a chuckle. “Maybe that hit jostled your head a little more than we thought.”
He deflated a little, his smirk dropping, “Yea, maybe.”
In an effort to save the conversation, I latched on to what he previously said, “You did SWAT detail?”
“Mmm, yea, when I was at the Seattle Field Office…tch,” he let out a long breath. “…a long time ago. It was fun,” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Surprised?”
“Only a little,” I shrugged. “You seem capable,” I gave him a once over, imagining him in the uniform I was wearing.
In the distance, I finally saw the rest of Hotch's team leaving the house. They rushed toward me where I had their boss lounging in the grass.
“Your team is incoming,” I notified him and began standing.
I extended my hand to Hotch, and he took it reluctantly as I helped him to his feet. He wobbled for a second, prompting me to still him with a hand firmly planted on his back while his hand clutched my shoulder. If anything, my hand on his back had the opposite effect as he put pressure into my hand instead of balancing himself.
Interesting.
I would have been crazy to pull my hand back.
Rossi approached with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Close encounter with a deadly shelf down there, eh?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter at the murderous look Hotch shot at Rossi. It was only made funnier by the image of the stern agent with a child-sized icepack on his forehead.
I quickly cleared my throat as I noticed the other agents looking expectantly at me, “Just a laceration and probably bruising later. He hit his head pretty good, possible mild concussion so he shouldn’t be alone for 24 hours. Might need stitches and probably worth getting his head checked out but I’m sure he won’t.”
Hotch winced as he accidentally put more pressure on it with the icepack, “I’m fine. Just a headache.”
I fixed him with a pointed look, then glanced at his hovering team, “Yeah, well, they seem to disagree.”
Prentiss stepped forward, concern softening her features. She reached for his forearm, his hand quickly sliding from my shoulder to her hands and leading him away from my hand on his back, “Come on, tough guy. You’re crashing with me.”
No significant other at home? Or is she…? Hm.
It was almost possessive, but what did I know? With the nature of our work, I’m sure they were all pretty close and protective of one another. I might not be a profiler, but I got the idea nonetheless as her eyes flicked toward me like I was a stranger. Well, because I was.
Clearing my throat, I swiped my helmet from the grass and tucked it under my arm. I extended my hand to Hotch, “Great to meet you, sir.”
Despite not knowing them besides Morgan, word did tend to get around the field offices about the BAU, so it was nice to put faces to the team.
“Thank you for your help,” my last name escaped his mouth with a low and soft hum, giving me a grateful quirk of his mouth.
Before I could lose myself in his features, I shifted my attention to Rossi and shook his and everyone else’s hand. As I got to Morgan, recognition flashed across his face.
My last name questioningly fell out of his mouth in disbelief. A bright smile lit up his face as he realized why we knew each other, “How’ve you been, brother?”
“Good, man. I—,” I heard my name called across the street, beckoning me to the tactical van. I acknowledged my teammate and continued my sentence by drawing out the letter, “I…gotta go, I guess.”
“No worries, we’ll catch up soon. Let’s go out some time,” Morgan reached for my hand and pulled me into a brief hug.
“Sounds good,” I smiled at the team and jogged back to the van.
I approached the van, slowing down as I got to the open door where Ramirez was waiting for me expectantly.
“Have fun with the shrinks?” He grinned and held the back door open for me.
“Yea, they’re alright. I went through the academy with one of them,” I climbed in and helped him shut the doors before sitting down.
“Bunch of characters, though,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean?” I frowned.
“Nah, it’s just…I’ve worked with them before. No offense or anything, they’re just…weird, I guess,” he stammered over his words, not quite expecting to be called out.
“And, yet we rely on them for profiles that help us get guys like that,” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the house we had just left.
“Fair enough.”
On the ride back to DC, I pulled out my phone and typed in the number I had been repeating since my interaction with Hotch. 5-5-5-0-4-8-6. I quickly saved it under something practical and not at all indicative of how giddy I felt saving it.
Spoilers, it was just “Hotch BAU”.
I resisted typing out a text message to him at that moment, not wanting to seem…desperate? Yea, “desperate” sounded right. I decided to send it later that night, which sounded even more desperate considering he would be at that attractive agent’s house. Prentiss? Prentiss. I grumbled to myself for being stupid and shoved my phone back in my pocket.
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Chapter 2 - Coming Soon
#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotchner x reader#hotchner x you#Fic: Special Weapons and Tactics#male!reader
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Eerie music stops
#outer wilds#echoes of the eye#outer wilds spoilers#outer wilds echoes of the eye#echoes of the eye spoilers#my art#based on the awkward party reaction meme.#POV you just crashed a party u werent invited to.#when i saw that scene in echoes of the eye for the first time i knew i had to make this and everytime i thought about outer wilds i thought#about it so here it is.#oh and the caption is based on the jazz music stops meme#monsters#horror#ig as content warning. they are friends to me so idk.
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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4
Behind Closed Doors
Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.
Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words
A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough
You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.
"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.
"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”
"Not for another hour."
"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."
“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."
This caught your attention. "What test?"
She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."
"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"
"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."
"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"
Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."
You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.
You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?
Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.
You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.
Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.
Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest.
Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.
A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.
"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.
"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.
"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."
You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.
"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"
"I need to reschedule."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"
"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.
She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."
"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."
A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then."
With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.
"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"
You cocked your head to the side.
What were you doing here?
You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."
His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.
You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"
"So you've heard.”
"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."
"If they let me back on the team."
"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."
He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"
"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."
He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.
"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"
You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."
"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."
Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"
"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”
Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.
"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.
"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"
"I never said that.”
Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”
You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.
It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.
You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.
"Y/N?"
Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."
Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby.
The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.
With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."
But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.
Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.
Your face grew hotter at the thought.
"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.
"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."
He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"
"I... uh..."
His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."
Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.
It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.
But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.
"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"
"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."
With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.
You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.
He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk.
With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing.
Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.
"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.
“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."
He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.
"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin.
"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.
"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."
"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."
You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."
“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”
“Me? What about—oh.”
His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.
“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”
You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”
“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”
“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”
You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.
“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”
You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”
“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”
You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.
“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.
“What are you doing?”
You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”
“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”
You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”
“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”
Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.
“Lift your hips for me.”
You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.
“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”
Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.
He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.
“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”
Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.
“I… I guess so.”
“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.
“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”
Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.
“Do you often touch yourself?”
Your head fell back as he started to move.
“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.
"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.
“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.
“Have you ever thought of me?”
Whoa.
The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.
This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?
A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.
"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.
He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”
What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.
“Uh… This is slightly better.”
“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”
Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”
The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"
Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."
His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”
With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."
Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."
He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.
You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.
You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.
This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.
You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.
You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.
You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.
"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.
"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.
"Don't answer it."
"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"
Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”
Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.
“Y/N? Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”
"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”
You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions.
“…he's also been stalking younger women."
Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.
“Y/N.”
You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.
“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.
You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”
You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"
"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”
There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."
You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."
Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.
“Are you with someone?”
You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”
There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.
“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.
“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”
She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”
You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.
“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.
"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.
"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”
Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—
“Y/N!”
“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”
You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.
"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"
You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.
It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.
Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.
Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly.
Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?"
You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”
“Good intense?”
“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.
“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.
Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”
“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”
He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”
Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”
Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."
Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.
He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.
Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants.
He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do��he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.
#behind closed doors#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction#gifwriting
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𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 (hyung line)
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: fivesome. unprotected sex, hair pulling, blowjob, rough sex. masturbation, handjob, double penetration, pet names (angel, baby, doll) lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD → PART 2
a/n: based on this ask from anon! hope you like it <3
It wasn’t that Heeseung was oblivious about the stolen glances his members gave you whenever you came over to the dorm, for goodness sake, he was a man as well and knew what was the effect to see such a pretty girl.
He would’ve asked them to stop or at least try not to show it— if he hadn’t noticed the way you just craved their attention. He sees how you unbutton your shirt or bend down shamelessly. And it should’ve angered him, it should’ve pissed him off.
But maybe, his contorted desires matched with yours, which was why he decided to test something out by taking you right in the living room. He lied, telling you the members had a schedule about a en o’clock episode he didn’t have to do and lured you inside the lion den, touching the spots he knew would make your head spin until you gave in and started sucking his cock.
The nasty sounds filled the dorm, you were so busy trying to pleasure him you hadn’t even heard the front door opening and now the three men watching the pornographic scene happening in front of their eyes.
“Looks like we have public, angel.” You blinked, puzzled as you took him out of your mouth to turn around.
Widening your eyes at first, they soon fell on the evident hard-ons your boyfriend’s best friends wore under their pants.
Heeseung smirked and caressed your cheek, making you turn around “You want more cock, mh?” He grasped your chin and made you turn around as well.
“Here you go baby, they’re all here for you.” And it didn’t take much for you to be laid down on the sofa with Jake’s cock shoved inside your mouth as you stroked Jay’s one with your free hand.
Sunghoon was rutting his hips inside of you, his huge cock filling you up to the brim. Your moans echoed in the room while you maintained eye contact with Heeseung.
He was slowly pumping his shaft at the sight of you being pleasured by his band mates, so pretty and so sinful.
“Pussy s-so good.” Sunghoon groaned, gripping your hips so tight they would’ve probably be bruised by the next day.
“Taking my cock so well.” Jake pleased as he grasped your head, fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as you gagged.
“Careful there.” Jay nagged at Jake for being so rough, the feeling of your hand around his dick bringing him close to release.
“Fuck I’m so close.” Jake threw his head back “Can I cum in your mouth baby, mh?” He asked but his gaze turned to Heeseung who shook his head.
Jake groaned but complied with his wishes, pulling out as he pumped his cock fast to cum all over your chest– But as you saw precum leaking, you whined and pulled him back inside your mouth.
The warm feeling was enough to make him cum, hot seed dripping down your throat, tasting him.
Heeseung watched you shocked, the mere view of his best friend cumming down your throat was enough to make him cum undone as well.
In the meantime, Sunghoon’s thrusts turned maniacal, his cock hitting your cervix with all of them. You squeezed your eyes shut and stopped moving your hand to help Jay, your own release approaching fast.
Jay groaned in complaint and moved to raise your back from the sofa. He positioned himself behind you and when Sunghoon understood what he wanted to do, he stopped thrusting.
You opened your eyes, a little oblivious to what was happening around you until you felt stretched so wide it was so painful. You let out a whimper of pain and both men turned to look at Heeseung.
“Ask her.” He said sternly “It’s not my body you’re using.”
“Baby, can we fuck you at the same time?” Jay asked, rubbing his thumb on your waist “It’s gonna feel good, I promise.”
“Yes, doll.” Sunghoon nodded as well, “You just need to relax.” He slowly circled your clit to relax you.
You took deep breaths, in and out and slowly got used to the feeling of both of them. They thrusted at the same time, slow and steady.
You turned your face to look at Heeseung and Jake that had joined his side. Your boyfriend gave you a warm smile and you reached your hand to him.
Heeseung took the clue and moved closer, pulling you into a heated make out session. Your moans died in his mouth as the two other men picked up their speed.
“Ngh— S’good.” You rolled your eyes back, gasping on Heeseung’s lips.
“Look how you’re taking their cocks so well.” Heeseung praised “My angel is doing a perfect job, mh?”
The pair of Jay and Sunghoon let out deep growls, signalling their were close “Don’t you cum inside of her, got it?” He said, his tone dangerous. “I’m letting you fuck her but only I get to breed her.”
His words were enough to send you over the edge, making you clench around the big dicks. Sunghoon pulled out and jerked on your stomach, his seed coating your skin.
Jay kept thrusting to ride you out of your orgasm and as he felt you relaxing, he pulled out to cum between your ass cheeks.
You pulled Heeseung back into a kiss, sloppy and needy as his best friends whispered sweet praising to you.
Jake walked behind Heeseung and you looked up at him as if to ask for permission. Your boyfriend nodded, a little reluctantly, but he let you have a make out session with him.
Needless to say, the aftercare was awesome, all four men treating you like a princess, serving you and pampering you with cuddles.
“When’s next time?” You asked that night as you were snuggled on Heeseung’s chest.
“Am I not enough for you?” Heeseung scowled, a little offended. You pecked his lips and chuckled “Of course you are, baby.”
You leaned into his ear and whispered “But I saw how you enjoy when I get used by your friends.” And maybe you were right. Maybe he had a kink.
#casey’s talks <3#enhypen smut#enhypen#enhypen fics#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen x reader#sim jake#enhypen au#heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung smut#enhypen hyung line#enhypen hyung line smut#enhypen smut imagines#enha smut#park jay smut#jay smut#sunghoon smut#park sunghoon smut#jake smut#sim jake smut#park jongseong smut#sim jaeyun smut#lee heeseung smut#lee heeseung hard hours#sim jake hard hours#sim jake hard thoughts#lee heeseung hard thoughts#park jay hard thoughts
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tied up - rafe cameron x fem!reader
warnings: master manipulator!rafe ; mentions of violence ; sexual innuendos towards the end
a/n: the second i saw rafe tied up and sweaty in this episode, i KNEW i had to write about it. this is probably the first of many writings relating to this scene.
the ship rocks gently beneath you, creaking in time with the water lapping against its sides. you step carefully, feeling the weight of the metal plate in your hands, warm against your fingertips. the scent of food mixes with the salt air, thick and lingering, though you’re sure he won’t touch it. rafe sits a few feet away, hands bound to a pipe in front of him, his head drooped forward. he doesn’t look up as you approach, but you can feel his awareness.
you pause, just out of reach, and the light catches his profile—a bruise blooming darkly his eye, his lip split and red, dried blood marking his mouth like some careless stain from when jj knocked him out. he lifts his head slowly, almost deliberately, and his gaze finds yours. his eyes are sharp, narrowed, an intense blue like broken glass in sunlight, calculating and unreadable.
the plate feels heavier in your hands, like it’s suddenly full of something fragile. you set it down, the scrape of metal on wood cutting through the silence like a match. he doesn’t move, just watches you with that unblinking look, like he’s trying to measure how much of you he could break if his hands were free. the thought chills you, but you don’t step back.
“eat,” you say, trying to sound calm, detached, but your voice feels too loud in the confined space. his mouth twitches, a hint of something that might be a smile, but it’s too cold, too hollow. you can see the strain in his shoulders, the pure anger in the way he holds himself, but underneath it—something else. a flicker of vulnerability he’s trying hard to hide.
“so, they send you down to try to convince me to eat? think it would soften me up or something?” his voice is rough as it echos through the confined room. “i already told sarah that i’m not eating until they untie me.” he says with pure defiance. his eyes bore into you as if he’s trying to study you.
you turn your head, your gaze diverting to the dusty floor. “actually, no one sent me down here. they could give a shit if you starved or not. it would be doing everyone a favor.” you avoid his eyes, afraid that your confidence would melt if you met them.
for a second, you wonder if he’s about to say something, something meant only for you, and the realization tightens in your chest like a warning.
“then, why are you here?” he asks harshly. you look up to meet his haunted eyes, a chill runs down your spine and butterflies settle in your stomach. “what happened to never wanting to see me again, huh? what happened to ‘i love you forever’ ?”
his words command a flood of memories to rush through your head. your breathing becomes heavier as you remember it all; the lingering gazes, the sweet nothings, and finally, the way the absence in his eyes as he shot sherif peterkin.
“you know what happened, rafe,” you warn, your voice cracking slightly. he smirked, almost as if he could sense your anxiety. “you know why i left you.”
rafe’s smirk deepens, twisted and bitter, and he leans forward as much as the bindings allow him. “left me?” his voice is low, mocking, but there’s something raw in it too. “come on. we both know you didn’t leave me—you never really left me.”
the words cut through you, sharper than you expect, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. he watches you, waiting for a reaction, relishing it, and maybe even needing it. his gaze is relentless, pining you there like you were the one in restraints.
you force yourself to meet his eyes, even as every instinct screams to look away, to leave the room, and to escape. “i did, though. i left you because you weren’t the man i started dating. you were this,” you gesture to his bruises, his dried blood, and his hostility shimmering in his expression; the man who seems like a stranger and yet is all too familiar.
“you’ve always been mine.” he mutters more to himself than to you. “and i’m- i’m trying to change, y/n. i’ve been trying to change.” he says sternly, almost as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. “y-you people don’t understand that i can change. i can change just as easily as you and sarah did when you started hanging around those goddamn pogues!” he raises his voice, jolting forward, and causing you to jump back.
when he notices you flinch, his gaze softens. he take a deep breath and sits back. you swallow harshly as he shifts from 0 to 100 in mere seconds.
“i’m just trying to change for the better; for you.” his voice is soft, not like what it was before. you can hear the sadness and the desperation dripping from his mouth.
it’s a trap. it’s all a trap. you’ve known rafe long enough to sense when he’s being manipulative, and he’s at his peak right now. you don’t respond, shaking your head, and going to grab the plate of food. as you grab the mental dish, his hands clasp around your wrist. the plate drops to the floor with a clatter.
“don’t- don’t go.” he whispers softly. his eyes search your face for even an ounce of reciprocated feelings. you bite the inside of your cheek as you ponder the possibilities. “stay here with me… please.” he isn’t speaking anymore, no, he’s begging.
your guard completely falls, leaving yourself vulnerable, and raw to his manipulations. when he senses the sudden shift, it’s as if he latches onto you, stringing his webs tighter around you.
you relax your shoulders with a sigh, not saying yes, but not leaving. he smiles and his eyes fall to your plump lips. his grip tightens around your wrist, fingers wrapping around your pulse. his breath is shallow and ragged, as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away.
your pulse quickens, a silent thrum that feels too loud, too obvious. his thumb moves softly, tracing small circles against your skin, a touch that’s barely there but enough to send a rush of warmth up your arm. you could pull away, break the moment before it goes any further, but you stay still.
rafe’s eyes drop to your lips, his jaw clenching as he takes a steadying breath. he’s drawing you closer, erasing the distance you swore to keep. “you don’t have to stay,” he murmurs, but his fingers tighten, betraying his words. “but… I don’t want you to leave.”
he inches closer, his face barely a breath away as his scent fills your senses. you can feel him hesitating, struggling against something, something that holds him back as much as it pulls him forward.
thousands of thoughts, warnings, and memories flash through your mind like blinding headlights, but they quiet under the intensity of his stare. then, he leans forward, closing the final sliver of space between you. his lips press softly against yours, and as if surrendering, you begin to kiss him back. the kiss begins gentle and sweet, but quickly turns into something desperate and fiery.
his tongue teases your mouth, slipping against your bottom lip. he’s frantic, raw, almost as if he’s afraid of losing you again, like he’s trying to make up for everything that happened. your lips slot against his like a puzzle piece.
you pull away breathlessly and stare at him. he lifts his arms that are bound by rope just enough for you to slip under them, now straddling his lap. you settle on his lap, something hard presses against your ass.
he smirks, “feel what you do to me, baby? i’ve missed you so much.”
the way he stares at you then and there tells you that you’ll be his forever. that there is no escape from him, even if you allow yourself to believe so. you’ll eternally be stuck in his web as he dances around you, only adding more silk to restrain you.
“calm down and untie me.” he says with a twisted grin. “let me take care of you, sweet girl.”
#love myself a little toxic rafe#nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey
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Can I please request protective Spencer x BAU!Reader who get "lightly" hurt or put in danger bc SWAT or local police made a mistake, and Spencer goes OFF on them. Hotch or Rossi have to calm him down because no one but the BAU knows theyre dating. I'd love to see protective Spencer if possible :)
no sign of danger | S.R.
when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: bloody nose, concussion, split lip, blood, mild violence. spencer reid says the f word. word count: 1.58k a/n: anon, not to be dramatic but something about writing this changed my brain chemistry. thank you for requesting!!! i hope you like it!
The time between arriving at a scene and when SWAT cleared the building was almost always intolerable. There were too many variables at play. It made you uneasy.
So, you waited, leaning on the side of an SUV with your Kevlar already strapped on, you turned to look at Hotch, “We’ve got an audience.”
Breadcrumbs that Garcia had picked up led the team to a house in a small town in Arizona. Unfortunately, the FBI garnered a lot of attention, and neighbors were starting to gather around the house. Hotch nodded, “Reid, JJ, work with the locals on crowd control, and make sure no one is recording. The last thing we need is for the news crews to show up.”
You offered Spencer a small smile as he turned to follow the blond to the barrier. He waved behind his back as he walked away.
Chuckling from right next to you got your attention, just to see Morgan shaking his head, “You two have it so bad.”
“I like to think we have it good, actually,” you said, flushing slightly. The teasing came with the territory, dating within the BAU meant never knowing a moment of peace – especially with Derek Morgan around.
There wasn’t an opportunity for him to respond, because as soon as he opened his mouth, your radio buzzed to life in your ear, “Building is clear. No sign of danger.” At the sound of the SWAT commander’s voice, you and Morgan surged forward to enter the building, Emily and Hotch following close behind.
Behind you, Hotch cleared his throat, “Morgan, Y/L/N, take the two rooms in the back, we’ll take the front.”
Nodding at your orders, you and Morgan walked past the staircase and to the opposite end of the house, where the kitchen and the den were. “This place looks like it’s been abandoned,” you thought aloud, dragging your index finger along the kitchen counter, and cringing when it came back covered in dust.
As you wiped your hand on your jeans, you looked up to see Morgan sorting through a vinyl record collection. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like anyone’s even entered this house in years.”
You hummed, opening the first cabinet you saw, wrinkling your nose at the discovery that the house also smelled like it had been abandoned. As you went to close the cabinet, the one below you swung open, the force of the doors almost knocking you to the ground.
Stumbling back, you saw a flash of hands before you were slammed into the refrigerator behind you. Immediately, you dropped to the floor, watching as Morgan tackled the guy and shouted for Hotch and Prentiss.
“We need an ambulance, Y/N’s down,” Emily spoke urgently into her radio while Morgan cuffed your attacker.
You winced at the way the radio buzzed in your ear; the way Emily’s voice echoed combined with the throbbing pain in your head made you nauseous. “What do you mean ‘Y/N’s down’?” Spencer’s voice rang through the radios, prompting you to haphazardly yank the coiled wire from your ear.
Everything sounded like you were underwater, Emily and Hotch asked you questions as the fog cleared from your head, “You’re bleeding,” Emily said, there was a worried look in her eyes.
Hesitantly, you pulled your hand from your face, just to see it covered in blood. You weren’t even sure how long you had been holding your hand to your face. “Can you stand?” Hotch asked you, his tone was concerned, but there was something else buried within it.
Nodding slowly, both of them helped you stand. Emily hooked an arm through yours when you stumbled slightly, she led you out of the house and to the ambulance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Morgan place his hand atop your attacker’s head, protecting it from the top of the police cruiser.
As soon as you sat down on the back of the ambulance, an EMT handed you a towel to hold to your nose. Your eyes flittered up to see Spencer approaching the ambulance, but to your surprise, he turned at the last moment and faced down the SWAT commander. “What happened in there?” He asked, his tone wholly accusatory.
“It looks like the person of interest was hiding in the kitchen when your team entered,” Commander Polk answered, obviously thinking Spencer was just asking for a sort of status report.
Spencer shook his head, “We’re hunting for a serial killer, and you had the audacity to miss the presence of an entire person?” He asked incredulously, “Did you even clear the kitchen?” He pointed in the direction of the house, where Rossi and JJ were now entering to look around more.
The SWAT commander faltered for a moment, “Someone did, but it wasn’t me personally.”
You winced as the EMT prodded at your face, surmising that your nose wasn’t broken, just bleeding badly as a result of the blunt force of the refrigerator. She pulled your hand from your face so she could inspect for any further damage. You opened your mouth to talk, but the EMT was quick to stop you, “You shouldn’t talk, not until we can look at the cut on your lip.”
While the EMTs got more supplies out, Emily helped you take off your Kevlar vest, undoing the Velcro for you and gently tugging it off. The entire front of it was covered in blood, you winced at the sight of the now-red letters.
“You need to figure out whoever checked the kitchen and make sure they know what they’re doing,” Spencer said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Commander Polk’s demeanor instantly changed, “I assure you, agent, we take training our team very seriously. This was just a mistake.”
Even from this distance, you saw Spencer roll his eyes. “First of all, it’s doctor,” he corrected – at which you rolled your eyes. “Second of all, of course, you take training seriously, it’s mandated by the federal government. This was a mistake, a mistake that ended in the injury of a federal agent,” you looked from Hotch to Spencer, hoping your unit chief would do something before Spencer got punched by the SWAT commander. “SWAT making mistakes gets other law enforcement officers killed,” he continued.
“What’s your point, doctor?” The commander asked.
Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m saying you’re fucking lucky she didn’t get killed, or else-“
“Reid!” Hotch called, stalking over to where your boyfriend was nearly getting into a fistfight with SWAT. He muttered something unintelligible to Polk before dragging Spencer away by the elbow, “What was that?”
Your boyfriend threw his hands up in the air, “He needed to be made aware of their mistake.”
Sternly, your unit chief shook his head, “They are aware, Reid, and I assure you I’m not going to drop it and there will be an internal investigation into what went wrong.” He raised his eyebrows, “That being said, it’s not your job to take care of mistakes made by other people.”
“No,” Spencer agreed, “but it is my job to take care of her,” he said, gesturing over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance.
Hotch pointed around to the locals and other SWAT members, “They don’t know that, Reid.” He whispered, keeping his voice down so he didn’t expose your relationship to everyone in the Arizona town. “Let me take care of it,” was his final statement before he walked back to Commander Polk.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Spencer spun around and finally walked over to you. Emily nodded at you before stepping away, “Are you alright?” He asked.
You flashed him a thumbs up, gesturing toward the EMT, who answered for you, “We just glued the gash on her lip, so she can’t really talk right now. She’ll be fine though, maybe a small scar, if anything.”
“Good,” Spencer said, ambling over and taking a seat next to you. “I was so worried about you,” he murmured, and you watched as he restrained himself from touching you.
Humming, you leaned into him for just a moment. Your movement was intentional, but it was quick enough that any passersby would assume you were just unsteady.
The EMTs left once the glue on your lip dried, directing you to ice it periodically to help with swelling and handing you care instructions.
You were left with a mild concussion, a split lip, and ruined clothes. All things considered, you felt like you were pretty lucky. The rest of the team piled into the SUVs, you and Spencer sitting in the back of one with Hotch at the helm and Emily in the passenger seat. “Who knew Reid had it in him?” Emily wondered aloud, eliciting a small laugh from you.
“I can’t believe you almost got into a physical fight with SWAT over a split lip and concussion,” you said, smiling slightly, but stopping as you felt the glue on your lip tugging.
Spencer rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t over the split lip and concussion, it was over the abhorrent display of-“
“Reid,” Hotch said in his no-nonsense tone.
Your boyfriend slouched back in his seat, “So, maybe it was over the split lip and concussion.”
Closing your eyes, you reached over the middle seat and took his hand in yours, “Thanks, Spence.” You whispered so that only he could hear, leaning over the gap between you and setting your head on his shoulder.
please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!
#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#margot's asks#written by margot#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds angst
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Based on this viral tiktok
Laughter echoed through the barracks as Soap and Gaz had been cracking up all afternoon. It was the day after a heavy mission and the duo decided to relax by making silly tiktok trends, in particular the ‘you ladies alright’ one. The trend had been blowing up on tiktok, making the pair wanting to replicate it around the base.
Gaz was the one knocking and delivering the cheesy line, another soldier threw the ball while Soap filmed the reactions. It was going great—soldiers were either laughing, rolling their eyes, or playing along with them.
They were near the end of the hall when they reached your door. Gaz hesitated for just a split second hand half raised to knock when he recognized the plate numbers of your door. Shaking away his thoughts Gaz knocked. He was all set to say the line, confident as ever, his hands smoothly catching the ball but then his eyes met your figure.
There you were, looking effortlessly beautiful with nothing but some sweatpants and a oversized black tshirt. He never saw you with civvies on and he swore in that moment he fell impossibly harder for you. For the first time in the entire day, Gaz froze. His cool persona slipped away in an instant as his gaze locked onto yours. His heart skipped a beat, a voice far back in his mind screamed at him to just say his line and not stand there like a moron but Gaz couldn’t say it. He just stood there, his mouth slightly open as he looked at you. All the confidence he’d built up throughout the day vanished.
You blinked at him, a mixture of confusion and amusement playing on your face while your cheeks reddened. Your eyes shifted around noticing Soap with his camera pointed at the scene holding back his laughter. And then it hit you, they were doing that viral tiktok trend. You looked back at Gaz awkwardly holding a ball and couldn’t help but let out an embarrassed laugh. His cheeks mirrored yours in redness as he smiled sheepishly murmuring a small ‘you ladies alright?’.
You shook your head, chuckling, greeting Soap before closing the door.
As they walked down the hallway Soap nudged Gaz with a wide grin stretched across his face “Mate, you’re hopeless.” Gaz rolled his eyes at the scot making him swear to delete the video.
Later that night a notification popped up on Gaz’s phone, illuminating his face.
TaskForce 141
“Soap🫧sent a video”
Soap🫧: “Got our loverboy blushing in 4k”
a/n: My first time writing for the Call of Duty fandom I’m scared even though I’ve been in the fandom for years. let’s pretend I know how the military works and they have these silly little moments around base shhh. Also idk if anyone has already done this scenario so sorry in advance!!
#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#captain john price#cod x reader#tf 141 x reader#cod fanfic#cod mw2#cod mw3#task force 141#tf 141#tf 141 headcanons
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── ୨୧ ! 𝗙𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘
𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader
SUMMARY: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.
WARNING: Crying, comparison, fighting.
REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.
At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.
As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.
pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.
A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.
A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.
For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.
However, her joy was momentary.
As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.
Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.
"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"
"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"
"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."
The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.
How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.
Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.
She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.
Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.
With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.
She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.
She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.
The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.
"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"
"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.
Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.
"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.
She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.
"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.
Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.
Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.
Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.
"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.
Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.
"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"
Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.
"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.
His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.
"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"
Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.
“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."
The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.
She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.
The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.
The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.
"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.
"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.
She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.
The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.
Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.
Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.
At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.
They would really look beautiful together.
Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.
Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.
At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.
His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.
A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.
With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.
Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.
With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.
Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.
Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.
Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.
With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"
Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.
And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.
"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."
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#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#x reader#sturniolo#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#imagine#oneshot#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris fanfic#chris au#chrissy#chris#chris sturniolo x reader fluff#chris sturniolo x reader angst#angst#fluff#tara yummy#comparison
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OKAY OKAY idk if you still do Eddie Munson if not it's fine but I just ended a situationship/fwb with a rude white boy, I lowk wanna see a fanfic. where Eddie has this relationship with reader, then he flirts with someone else and takes them to bed, and reader is just heartbroken,and gets revenge
toxic!eddie munson x female!reader
summary: you think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? no fucking way. he doesn’t get to win.
warnings: smut! 18+, cursing, very much angst, arguing, mature content, etc..
a/n: wow, you actually got me out of hibernation with this one. i haven't wrote eddie in a long time so bear with me but since fuckboys very much PISS ME OFF, i had to do you a solid and i hope you enjoy! as always, apologize if you hate this.
Your relationship with Eddie was not something that you could explain in a few short words. Of course, it was complex, complicated, difficult, angering, loving, warm.... But again, not something you could name with a few short words.
It had been about three months ago when you caught Eddie staring at your ass while you were playing dodgeball and he was sitting at the bleachers.
He had that sly smile on and his back leaning on one of the levels on the bleachers, staring at you intently. Not only was it enough to catch your attention but enough for you to keep looking.
All it took was a wink and a few whispers in the locker room for you to be hooked. But after, Eddie had made it clear with you that he wasn't ready to be in a relationship.
Eddie kissed your neck while his grip on your neck was harsh, "Listen baby, I want this so fucking bad but I'm not ready for somethin' serious," He whispered but the trance you were in only had you saying,
"Uh-huh,"
And since then, you had been stuck in a friends with benefits situation with Eddie Munson.
It wasn't the worse thing in the world but sometimes, it never felt the best. I mean, it wasn't like Eddie was an asshole who didn't care about you after you fucked or did anything. He would always cuddle you or clean you up when you felt tired.
He would always let you vent to him, give you kisses, and make you laugh. Those were the times when you felt like you could be more with him.
And then there would be times where he talked about Stacey Callahan's ass with a sly smile and glint in his eye, almost making you want to stab him.
You would shoot daggers into him but he would never notice because he considered you a friend.
And you could never tell him your real feelings because then you guys would be nothing and that seemed like a worse fate.
But at least, he never made an actual pass at girls in front of you and from what he had told you, he hasn't fucked anyone since you and him had started.
And that made you feel like you could be more.
But you were afraid you spoke too soon when you were trying to find Eddie and saw him and Caroline Blaren making out under the bleachers.
His hand groping her ass and her moans echoing throughout the gym. If it wasn't for the fact that it was after school, almost half the school population would've been cursed with this sight.
His mouth leaving hot kisses on her neck as he did with you a multitude of times, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she giggled.
For the first time in your life, you had felt as if your heart had shattered.
A part of you wanted to make a scene, maybe go batshit crazy and curse Eddie to the brink of eternity and then the other part of you wanted to walk away, realize that you were worth more than someone who you thought cared for your feelings or for you at all.
Before you could leave the gym and maybe cry in a corner, Eddie locks eyes with you and smiles before he excuses himself and tells Caroline to wait under the bleachers.
She scoffs a little bit but twirls her hair as she stands there, mugging you.
You still have a shocked expression as Eddie approaches you, grinning ear to ear,
"I know I said we were gonna meet today but," He shyly cheers, "I've been trying to bag this for months and I really need this, Y/N, we can meet tomorrow though," He says as if this was casual.
You blinked at him as he awkwardly laughed at your expression, "Earth to Y/N?" He waved his hand in your face as you closed your mouth and swallowed.
You did your best to form a smile, "Uh- yeah sure,"
He cheered, kissing you on the cheek, "You're the best, I owe you one," He winked at you before going back to Caroline.
He put his arm around her shoulder before exiting the other way of the gym.
You couldn't believe that you let Eddie Munson break your heart.
There were multiple thoughts entering your head the sight of this.
One was that you were a complete idiot and let Eddie Munson play you like a fiddle. The second was that he had never taken you seriously. The third was that you needed to make him feel as you did.
And maybe it was petty for you to feel like you needed revenge but you couldn't let Eddie get away with making multiple girls feel this way,
Harmless to him but cruel to you.
And now you had to make him pay which you knew wasn't going to be easy.
Making Eddie Munson jealous was one of those things that was damn near impossible. He always prided himself in being as 'chill as a cucumber, when it came to his love life.
You had never seen him get jealous once and you didn't even think it was a feeling to him.
But you did know Eddie hated being ignored.
You remembered when he jokingly called your ass flat and you ignored him for an hour before he looked like he was on the brink of tears.
That was the one sore sport of his that you knew of and it certainly wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage.
So when Eddie had called you that very night, you answered but not with the same eagerness you always had,
"Hello?" You answered, holding the telephone up to your ear.
"Hey Y/N," You heard Eddie's voice on the other side of line, voice excited.
You swallowed before answering back flatly, "Hi,"
He sounded surprised at your tone but didn't mention it, "Jus' wondering if you wanted to come over, Caroline just left,"
Your blood felt like it was boiling. It was as if he wanted a snack to go with his meal which only pissed you off more and it had been six hours, he had been fucking Caroline for six hours.
"I can't," You said, concealing your anger.
He sounded astonished, "Uh, why not?"
"Busy," You replied, annoyed.
You could feel your vagueness starting to worry him, "Busy with what?" He said snarkily.
"Stuff," You scoffed.
When did Eddie care so much about what you were doing? Maybe once he realized you wouldn't be at his beck and call any longer.
He took a breath, "What about tomorrow?" He asked, hoping your answer would be different.
"I'm busy, Eddie," You snapped.
There was silence on the other line for a few seconds that felt like decades before he replied again, "Is something wrong?" He asked, the worry present in his voice.
"No, I really can't talk right now, I'll see you later," You said quickly, putting the phone back on the link before he could answer.
You sighed, trying your best to feel as if this was the best decision. Of course, you knew ignoring Eddie wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world but you didn't expect it to be the hardest either.
Once Eddie gets fixated, there's not really a way to get him off the case.
And that turned out to be a fact when you saw him at school the next morning,
"Y/N," Someone grabbed your arm, pulling you in the custodian closet.
You made a surprised sound before realizing it was Eddie, "Jesus, I thought you were a murderer," You said, releasing your arm from his grip.
He ignored your joke, locking his eyes into your eyes, "What's up with you?" He asked.
You gulped, "I don't know what you're talking about,"
He scoffed, "You fucking dodged me on the phone,"
You rolled your eyes, "I told you I was busy,"
"You've literally let me eat you out before you had an huge exam in the next hour so that's a load of crap," He replied as you gawked, "So tell me what's actually up,"
You moved your jaw to the side, looking away as Eddie fumed in front of you.
You were lost for words but this didn't stop Eddie from waiting for answer so you gave one,
"I'm done fucking you,"
Eddie looked shocked, lost for words, he almost seemed as if he was having a stroke. He snapped out of his trance by laughing, "Are you serious?"
Your demeanor didn't change, "Deadly."
He bit his lip, almost wanting to laugh because this had to be a joke, "Baby, thats a big decision," His chest was against yours at this point, "Are you sure about this?" He asked, his breath whispering against your ear.
You could feel yourself breathing harder and a bit turned on but you knew this cycle wouldn't end if you didn't stop it. You pushed against his chest as he stepped backwards, "I'm done Eddie." You stated, walking out of the closet and leaving him in there.
You took a deep breath before walking to your class, it was hard to believe that you had just rejected Eddie and that he didn't utterly make you regret it.
You sat in class as you watched Eddie come on minutes after, always arriving after the bell. You could feel the tension radiating off you both but he didn't care to take a glimpse of you, his hard expression already telling enough.
You eyed him as he sat down next to you, a shocked expression on your face. Eddie had never sat down next to you in classes or let alone even show up.
You could already tell he was about to start fucking with you.
As Ms. Rodriguez started her lesson, you started to feel a fingertip tracing your knee as you swallowed. You looked at Eddie but he kept his hard expression, not even a smirk forming.
You watched him as his finger rose higher, almost at the hem of your skirt.
There was something in you that wanted to let him, maybe get your last taste Eddie before it was over forever but if you did this, it would never be over.
You knew this was Eddie trying to win and you couldn't let him.
In a flash, you grabbed his hand which caused him to finally look at you and you slammed it into his own lap. He looked furious and you felt a small victory as he pushed out his chair and stormed out while Ms. Rodriguez yelled for him to come back.
—————
The bell rang as you went towards the cafeteria, going to sit with the mutual friends you shared with Eddie.
Ever since you and Eddie had started hooking up, he had introduced you to his friends and you didn't actually mind sitting with them. They would always banter in front of you which always made you giggle and it was never superficial with them.
Usually, you would've sat next to Eddie but since shit hit the fan, you took a seat next to Gareth.
You saw Eddie shooting daggers into your soul but you kept your composure and ignored him.
You could hear them arguing over something about D&D which only made you laugh before Gareth noticed you, "Hey Y/N!" He beamed as you smiled.
"Hey Gareth, what are you guys talking about?" You asked, looking at him.
Gareth grinned, ready to start his tangent, "Oh so basically, we were talking about if Paladin or the Monk had more of a power bu-"
Eddie cut him off, "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you as the table went silent.
You steamed, "What are you talking about?"
He began his theatrics, "I mean did I say you could sit here?" The whole table looked between you and him, there had never been one argument between you and Eddie, let alone one in front of them.
You sneered, "Why would I not be allowed to sit here?" You asked, wanting to kill Eddie for doing this in front of everyone.
"Well because, you don't belong here," He said, nonchalantly.
You laughed, "I don't belong here?" Your eyes were locked onto his, anger present in them.
"Yeah," He smirked which only made your blood boil.
"So since I'm sucking your dick anymore, I can't sit here?" You questioned, causing the entire table to gasp.
You weren't planning to reveal that you and Eddie had fucked several times but since he was really trying to get under you, there was no other choice.
"You can't sit here because nobody wants you here, Princess," He said, hatefully.
You looked at everyone around the table but they kept their gazes low, not wanting to go against Eddie.
Eddie was expecting pure anger to come out of you or maybe you would have to reconcile with him and you guys could go back to how you were but instead, you had gotten up and a smile was present on your face.
"I think I'm actually gonna sit with Jason," You slyly said as Eddie felt enraged, "I think that's a dick I actually would like to suck," You grabbed your tray heading over to jock table.
It wasn't exactly the best plan considering you hated Jason but Jason had been trying to get under you for years and this was the only way to get under Eddie's skin.
Your skirt rose up as you blinked dumbly at Jason sitting next to him, "Hi Jason," You sweetly said as he grinned from ear to ear.
"Y/N, what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, him eyeing your body.
"I was wondering if you could teach me a few things about basketball at yours, I've got a research project," You said, fingers grazing his thigh.
It was not your best effort at being seductive but it was enough to get Jason Carver.
"I think I could help with that, mine at seven?" He said as you nodded.
You turned your back to see Eddie staring at you, more mad than you had ever seen him.
He was jealous.
And this was only the beginning.
#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fic#stranger things fic#stranger things smut#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x y/n#eddie x reader#eddie munson angst#toxic relationship#stranger things#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson stranger things#singmyaubade
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Sick Days
pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader (platonic)
warnings: mention of illness, Shadow trauma :(
summary: after getting sick with a small flu Shadow takes care of you
a/n: this is written from the movie au so erm its movie shadow to fill the little hole in my heart! small little fluff cause my day has been so depressing and i needed comfort (can be romantic or platonic tbh but i wrote it from a platonic pov so). Also i am getting a few requests, it’s not overwhelming and I’m not closing my requests but it is first come first serve so please be patient while I go through them all!!!
A shivering body lay under the blankets, you felt so cold. But your entire body was overheating; unfortunately the flu was spreading and you had succumb to it. You’d been bragging how you were so healthy and you actually believed you’d get through the flu season without ever catching it, but the world really had a way of sticking it to you.
And so there you lay, on your warm bed with an empty water bottle by your side that you would’ve filled long ago if it wasn’t for the flashes of pain you’d randomly get throughout your body.
You’d been home alone for a while, not really telling anyone you were sick, you didn’t want to bother them anyway. What could they do? You’d already taken medicine, at this point it was just a waiting game.
Slowly you settled yourself into a more comfortable position, hoping a nap would make the pain go away, but as you closed your eyes, the ring of the doorbell echoed through the empty house. You were currently alone, so you had no choice but to get up.
As you did you felt your bones aching and flashed of heat passing through you, it felt as if you were walking through hell. By the time you’d made it to the door your breath was staggered, making it seem like you ran a marathon while in reality you’d only walked 10 feet to open the door.
As the door creaked open you saw the one and only Shadow, his body straight and his eyes were like little daggers poking at you, but it faltered. His clenched little paw slightly widening as he took you in; your body was slightly hunched over, your blanket clinging to your shoulders and your eyes looked sullen, deprived of sleep.
Before he had the chance to ask you anything you suddenly erupted into a fit of coughs, your throat felt as if it were on fire after each one, “You’re sick,” he exclaimed; it wasn’t a question, more of a clarification.
You offered him a small nod, sniffing a bit. Shadows gaze lingered on you a bit, he felt himself getting goosebumps, this scene was far too familiar for him. Suddenly it felt like he was next to Maria again, as she assured him that she was fine, and he had to stand there and watch as the sickness she had only caused her more suffering.
This time though, Shadow could do something, and so he will. Before you had a chance to ask Shadow what he was doing here, he’d already grabbed ahold of your hand and ushered you back into your room.
“Shadow what are you doing?” You asked him, your voice hoarse. He didn’t respond, instead he lightly pushed you back onto your bed, grabbing your empty water bottle and walking out.
You sat there dumbfounded, he just pushed you onto your bed and left? This was Shadow you were thinking about though so he did do strange things every now and then. You would’ve gone after him but the pain that engulfed you was overwhelming, so instead you decided to lay down and wait for it to pass.
As you laid there, Shadow quickly returned. The water bottled filled to the brim as he handed it to you, “Drink��� he said, holding it up to you.
Slightly you adjusted yourself, as you took the water from his hands. You took a few small sips and as you tried to close the bottle Shadow held the cap back from you, “More” you let out a weak chuckle as you drank some more, the water soothing your itching throat.
When you handed it back to him, he put the cap back on the bottle and placed the blanket over you, not saying much; his eyes spoke a million words for him.
Gently he pushed you onto your back and made sure you were completely covered and comfortable, he was used to taking care of sick people, he’d done it with Maria a lot, so he had a basic understanding of what he should be doing.
As you laid in bed, you face staring at the ceiling muttering a small thank you, Shadow felt his work there was done. He couldn’t do much against a flu, it was more of a ‘do what you can and wait it out’ type of sickness.
“Get well soon, take this medicine after you wake up and I’ll be back to check on you,” his voice monotone as you began to leave your room.
You watched him go, but before he reached the door you’d turned onto your side, mumbling his name, “Shadow..” you fidgeted with your hands under the blanket. He turned back to look at you, his eyes scanning you and you covered your face a bit, “Could you stay with me while I sleep?”
You erupted into a small fit of coughs, only solidifying the idea that he should stay. Instead of responding Shadow sat on your bed, his back against the wall and his arms crossed and he lightly nodded and closed his eyes as well.
The room became still, the occasional cough making Shadow turn to glance at you. He watched you shiver under the blanket, clearly it wasn’t warm enough for you; so he did the only other thing he knew would help.
He quietly made his way to the head of your bed, and silently made his way under your blanket and laid next to you. You didn’t notice, the exhaustion of the sickness already making you fall fast asleep.
Shadow was glad you couldn’t tell what he was doing, he didn’t even know why he did it himself honestly. He just did what he used to do, back when she was sick.
After a while the shivering had stopped, your breathing was even but Shadow stayed, he was still next you, curled up so that you had a sense of comfort.
And he would stay there until you got better, because this was something he knew how to do, and you were someone he’d grown to care for.
#Sonic 3#sonic brainrot#sonic 3 x reader#shadow the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog x reader#shadow x reader#shadow#sonic the hedgehog#x reader#sick reader#fluff yippie!!!
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Can you pls do the Mingle game scene where Hwang offs player 343 but instead of player 390 witnessing it, it’s us?
Keeping you safe
Squid Game masterlist
Hwang In-ho/Frontman/Young-il x fem!reader
Cw: Death of player 343, mentions of players getting shot, slightly different from how it went in the series.
"Two."
Right after the voice stopped, you were suddenly grabbed by Young-il, who dragged you off towards an empty room. Almost there, another player bumped into you, causing you to lose balance, when another player tried running into the room you two were heading to, but Young-il was faster, grabbing the man and pulling him out, then quickly went inside telling you to get in as quickly.
Inside you discovered another player already inside, it was player 343, who looked stunned when he saw you two. Young-il's gaze instantly fixed on him.
"Get out." Young-il growled, and player 343 backed off against the wall.
"We were here first." He defended, but Young-il had enough and rushed over to him. The guy Young-il pulled out wanted to make his way inside, and you closed the door, keeping it shut, and turned to see Young-il holding player 343 in chokehold, slumped against the wall, slowly pulling him down with him as the counter was at 10 seconds left.
Looking at Young-il's face, it almost seemed like he had a smirk on his lips, but you couldn't make it out because of the dim light.
At this point all the other players were desensitized when it came to the others getting killed, but you were not. You didn't want this poor player to die.
"W-wait, Young-il, don't–"
But he didn't listen, instead, he snapped player 343's neck right infront of you, the sound echoed through the room, which the sound alone had your spine crawling.
The body of him was slumped against Young-il, just as the timer ran out, the lock clicked in place and the players still outside were shot by the guards.
"Why did you–" you stuttered.
Young-il dumped the body into the corner, standing up and let out a heavy breath.
"You know if I didn't do it we would be killed instead." he said, walking over to you, looking through the slit on the door.
"But you could have thrown him out..." you tried arguing.
His head turned a bit, it looked like the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk just slightly.
"And let the other asshole come in?" He turned to face you fully. "He was already inside. I could have just closed the door and leave you out there."
For once, you couldn't come up with anything else to argue, you knew he was right, but killing still didn't feel right to you.
"Listen," His hand came up, resting on your shoulder "I did it for you, to save you. And if it means killing another player myself, then so be it."
You swallowed hard, looking into his eyes as they softened while looking into yours. His hand went from your shoulder to gently grab your chin.
"From now on, you should stick close to me. I may be the only one here caring about you. The others would rather kill you, but not me." He spoke softly, holding eye contact with you the whole time.
His grip tightened slightly, letting you know he means it. "Understood?"
All the emotions inside you made you nod weakly in response.
Young-il released you, smiling and patting your shoulder. "Good. You'll soon see how much I care about you."
Then the speaker announced the games to continue, the lock on the door was unlocked leaving you both to get out and continue with the games.
You don't know if you should feel safe or not, knowing Youg-il would even kill for you if it means keeping you unharmed.
#squid game#squid game 2#squid game season 2#hwang in ho#in ho#the front man#hwang in ho x reader#the front man x reader#player 001#player 001 x reader#young il#young il x reader
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⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. fluff. happy family moment t_t
“she said whaaaat? no way!”
you were scrolling on your phone in the living room when you heard that familiar voice pierce through the comfortable silence — satoru’s voice, a bit more high pitched this time, almost like he couldn’t believe what he had heard.
your boyfriend was over at your parents’ place for the first time and seemed to get along just fine with your mother in the kitchen. you could hear their giggles and gasps every now and then whilst your body was resting on the couch.
their voices were getting louder by the minute, thus you decide to stand up and go check on them. you reach the doorstep and instantly smile at the heartwarming scene that greets you;
your mother chopping up some vegetables, chuckling whilst excitedly telling her recent gossips to satoru, who was leaning back against the kitchen counter next to her — his arms crossed and those pretty dimples of his apparent on his face as he carefully listens to your mother’s stories.
“seems like you two are getting along well already, eh?” you chuckle after observing them for a little while longer. your presence instantly make satoru smile even more (if that were even possible), his eyes glimmering at the sight of you;
“hey, baby!” the white-haired man walks over to you and hugs you tightly before letting go, though his hand remains at your waist. the grin on his face widens, “your mother has the most juiciest of gossips that i’ve ever heard around town, i’m telling ya — stuff’s got me absolutely hooked.”
your mother responds to that with a short giggle. she glances up from her cutting board and sends you a look — one that emits her approval of the lover you’ve chosen. it seems like satoru’s charming personality succeeded into mellowing even your parents’ hearts.
“heh, i do actually believe that.” you nod with your own cheeky grin. your mother was like a newspaper — you always hear all the recent stories and gossips from her.
it’s no wonder satoru instantly clicked with her; if it isn’t your mother you’re gossiping with, it would usually be that cheeky sorcerer instead. he’s a great listener after all, his reactions are priceless to you.
you move over to stand next to your mother and decide to help her out with cutting up the veggies. satoru starts to search the area in hopes to find an apron for himself, though was quickly interrupted by the gruff voice of your dad echoing through the house;
“satoru, c’mere, boy! help an old man out.”
you were a bit surprised that your dad was specifically asking for satoru to go help him (your mom as well; however she knowingly snickers afterwards).
you can’t remember the last time your father had directly asked help from someone he barely knew. sometimes he wouldn’t even ask your mother or you for help. that’s how stubborn your dad is.
or, was — satoru’s an exception, it seems like.
your boyfriend was also a bit stunned — though not in a bad way at all. the corners of his lips curl up in a fond smile, his blue eyes shining ever so brightly due to the feeling of being needed and accepted in this household. his beloved’s household.
it felt like he had achieved all he wanted in life — hell, satoru was ready to risk it all and ask for your hand in marriage right then and there; that’s how joyous and confident this moment made him.
“coming, sir!” satoru calls out. you could’ve sworn his voice cracked a tad bit, however you decide not to comment on it. your boyfriend turns around with the biggest grin on his face and quickly goes to stand between your mother and you.
one of his hands rests on your waist, the other on your mom’s shoulder as he places a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. a rush of warmth surged through his body as he saw you look up at him with those captivating and pretty eyes, making satoru feel even more content than he already was —
“i’ll be right back. if you ladies need a helping hand, just give me a holler.” satoru says and smoothly steals a kiss on your cheek before hurrying towards your father, whose voice sounded from the bathroom.
there was a spring in his step. a positive change in his already ethereal looks as you watch him disappear from the room. you shake your head and chuckle at satoru’s excitement. you knew exactly what he was feeling, because you felt the same once you realised just how fast your parents seemed to accept and approve of him;
relieved, comfortable and happy.
#boooo never write fics again anya#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#jjk fic#gojo fluff#jjk x you#gojo x you
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Hello I'm sorry if you're not taking requests. But please please if you are can you make the part 2 of Sylus as an online sugar daddy meeting with his sugar baby.
But please ignore it if you don't take requests and your writing is SOOO GOODD. Have a nice day!!
Sylus meeting with his online sugar baby
(note-you sent this a while back when I first started posting so I hope you’re still around lol I’m sorry for taking so long🤍)
Tags • virgin reader,sugar daddy sylus,verbal teasing,fingering,climaxing
5k word count (I got carried away sorry)
────୨ৎ────
Sylus himself couldn't even believe he was doing this. It wasn’t just a waste of time for him; he never thought he’d be the type to seek out a woman, especially in a place like this but something about you intrigued him in a way he couldn't ignore.
As he leaned against his sleek black car outside the arcade the neon lights flickered, illuminating the faces of the young couples and friends inside. He felt out of place the leader of Onychinus waiting in a childish venue a stark contrast to his usual world of power and control.
He glanced at his watch, the minutes stretching painfully. He was serious about this arrangement, after all. He had his reasons, practical ones—companionship, a distraction from the relentless pressure of his life. But he couldn't deny the thrill of meeting you, the allure of stepping into a world so different from his own.
The sound of laughter drew his attention, and then he saw you approaching. Your smile was bright, a refreshing contrast to the shadows that usually loomed around him. You looked confident almost carefree as you made your way toward him.
“Hi! sorry if I kept you waiting,” you said your voice light and cheerful,opposite of how he’s used to people greeting him.
“It’s fine,” Sylus replied, maintaining his serious demeanor. “I’m just getting used to this.”
“This?” you asked, gesturing around the arcade. “I get it,It’s not exactly your usual scene.”
He finally met your gaze, feeling a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity, perhaps. “I’m not here for the games sweetie”.
You smiled at his straightforwardness, your cheerful demeanor undeterred by his serious tone. “I figured,but the games are kind of fun! You should try one!”
Sylus raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unwilling to show it. “I doubt I’d find much enjoyment in... this.” He gestured around, feeling a mix of irritation and fascination at how different your world was.
You chuckled softly, the sound warming the chilly air between you. “You might be surprised,It’s nice to escape sometimes.” There was a glimmer in your eyes that caught him off guard.
“Escape?” he echoed, feeling the weight of his own reality settle back over him. “I’m not sure that’s possible for me.”
Your expression shifted slightly, the playful light dimming as you regarded him more seriously. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. He didn’t want to scare you away, but vulnerability was foreign territory for him.
You looked at him, studying his chiseled features and the tension that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you said softly, as if sensing the walls he’d erected around himself.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” he replied, a hint of angst creeping into his tone. It was a reminder of the danger he lived in, the enemies lurking in shadows,never being able to be off guard . “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
Your gaze remained steady, unwavering. “and yet here I am,Isn’t that the thrill of it? To step outside our comfort zones?”
“Thrill,” he muttered, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “More like recklessness.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the instinct to protect you, to shield your brightness from his dark world.
You tilted your head, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “You’re so serious sylus,what are you afraid of?”
He hesitated, the weight of his duality pressing down. “That I’ll lose you, kitten.” The admission surprised even him. He didn’t know you well, yet there was something about you that ignited an urgency within him.
Your smile returned, softer now, disarming his cold demeanor. “I’m not going anywhere,not yet at least.”
For the first time, Sylus felt a crack in his armor. Perhaps this sugar daddy arrangement was about more than just companionship; it was a chance to explore a connection that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
As you took a step closer, he felt an instinctive need to draw you nearer, to keep you safe. “Let’s get out of here,” he said abruptly, surprising even himself with the sudden protective urge.
You blinked, a mix of confusion and excitement dancing across your face. “Where to?”
“Somewhere... away from all this.”
And with that, the tension shifted. Sylus realized he was no longer just a mafia boss seeking distraction; he was a man drawn to someone who could bring light into his otherwise shadowed existence.
As sylus drove you to the hotel, the tension in the car was palpable, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The neon lights outside blurred by, but all he could focus on was the way you shifted in your seat, a nervous smile playing on your lips.
Once inside the hotel, he led you to a private suite, the door clicking shut behind you with a sense of finality. The room was elegantly furnished, dim lighting casting a warm glow. You looked around, your earlier cheerfulness tempered by a hint of shyness.
“What happened to the lively little kitten I met at the arcade?” Sylus teased, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “You seemed so confident, and now...”
You bit your lip, glancing at the floor. “I don’t know! It’s just… different, you know?”
“Different,how so kitten?” He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “You’re not worried about me, are you?”
“No, it’s not that” you replied, trying to maintain your composure. “It’s just... you’re a bit intimidating.”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Intimidating? Sweetie, I promise I’m just a guy, a guy who’s curious about why you’re suddenly so shy.”
You took a breath, trying to regain some confidence. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be here, with you, like this.”
“Is that so?” He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the teasing glint in his eyes intensifying. “I would’ve thought you’d be eager to explore every aspect of this arrangement.”
“Explore?” you echoed, feeling your cheeks heat.
“Yeah, you know,” he said, a playful smirk on his lips. “Try out all the fun things you can’t do over the phone .”
Your heart raced and you glanced away, flustered. “I—”
“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, stepping closer again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you a little more innocent than you let on? Is that what this is about?”
You froze, your mind racing. “Um, well, I—”
“Are you a virgin, sweetie?” His words hung in the air, a teasing challenge that made you blush even deeper.
Your eyes widened, caught off guard. “I… maybe?” The admission slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt utterly exposed.
Sylus raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, that explains the shyness,but it’s cute,” he said, leaning in closer a playful glint in his eye. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with such an innocent little thing.”
You shifted your weight, heart pounding. “Stop it!” you protested, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “You’re making me feel like a kid!”
“Maybe you are,” he teased, his tone light but his gaze serious. “But don’t worry, kitten. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
Your stomach fluttered at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness washing over you. “You’re such a meanie!” you said, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.
“I’m just having a little fun, sweetie,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. “You’re adorable when you blush like that. I could get used to this.”
The playful banter hung in the air, creating an electric atmosphere. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself slowly crumbling. “Maybe I’ll show you more of my personality if you promise to be nice,” you offered, your voice teasing back.
“Oh, I’ll be nice,” he promised, stepping back slightly to give you space. “But I can’t make any guarantees about being gentle.”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the thrill that raced through you at his words. “I guess I’ll have to hold you to that.”
And in that moment, amidst the teasing and the laughter, something shifted between you, a connection deepening beneath the playful facade. Sylus felt a flicker of something he hadn’t anticipated—an urge to protect not just your innocence, but also to cherish the light you brought into his dark world.
Sylus moved towards you, the teasing smile on his lips fading just enough for his expression to darken, a serious intensity taking over. He crossed the room slowly, closing the space between the two of you, and before you could react, his hands were on your waist. With a firm but gentle grip, he lifted you effortlessly and plopped you onto the bed. The air left your lungs in a quiet gasp and for a moment, you were caught off guard by how swiftly he moved.
“Sweetie,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, something that made the room feel smaller. His gaze locked on yours, the playfulness still there but laced with a seriousness that hadn’t been present before. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”
You swallowed hard, the nervousness creeping back in as he loomed over you. “I… I think I do.”
He smirked, but there was something almost sad in it. “You think, huh?” His thumb brushed lightly against your waist as he knelt onto the bed, his hands still holding you in place. “Kitten, I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I know when someone’s out of their depth.”
The teasing edge in his tone made your heart race, but there was a weight behind his words that made you shift beneath him, uneasy but drawn in all the same.
“You’re a sweet little thing,” he said, his voice almost tender, though his words held a darker undertone. “Too sweet for someone like me. This isn’t like those playful messages online, sweetheart. I live in a world that’s... far from innocent.”
Your breath caught as his fingers trailed up your side, the motion almost soothing despite the tension in the air. “But you… you still want me here, don’t you?”
He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I want you, kitten. More than I should,but I worry about what happens if you stay in my world too long.”
You blinked, trying to steady yourself, your mind spinning. “What do you mean?”
Sylus pulled back slightly, his face hovering just inches from yours. The smirk returned, but his eyes were shadowed, conflicted. “You see, I’ve got my fun little games, but outside of this room? My life isn’t soft. It’s sharp edges and shadows..and you” he said, brushing a thumb over your cheek, “you’re too innocent,you don’t belong in that darkness.”
Your stomach tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “I can handle it. I’m not a kid.”
He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it this time. “You’re not a kid, but you’re pure, and I’m not.” His hand found its way to your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met his. “You think being my sugar baby is all fun and games. But in person? It’s different. You’re not just playing with me anymore, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.”
Your pulse quickened as he shifted his weight, pinning you gently beneath him. “And what if I want to get burned?” you whispered, feeling bolder in the heat of the moment.
For a second, his expression softened, and his fingers threaded through your hair as he gazed down at you with a mix of affection and regret. “Careful what you wish for, sweetie,” he murmured. “I might just give it to you.”
Despite the teasing, there was an undeniable protectiveness in the way he spoke, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull you closer or keep you at arm’s length. It was as if he feared that pulling you too far into his world would extinguish the light you carried—something that had begun to matter to him in ways he wasn’t prepared to admit.
And in that moment, you realized Sylus wasn’t just worried about what he could do to you. He was worried about what his world could do to someone like you.
Sylus hovered above you, his eyes flickering between restraint and desire, that teasing smirk playing on his lips as if he was holding himself back. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, his fingers still gently grazing your cheek. Despite all his playful words and sly smirks, you could see it—he was hesitating, his dark world swirling in his mind, wondering if pulling you closer would be a mistake.
For a moment, you bit your lip, considering what to do. But something inside you shifted. If Sylus wasn’t going to make the move, you would.
With a sudden burst of boldness, you reached up and cupped the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His eyes widened in surprise, the smirk faltering just slightly as you pulled him closer, your lips hovering inches from his.
“I’m not as fragile as you think, Sylus,” you whispered, your voice steady even though your heart pounded in your chest. “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”
For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if caught completely off guard by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker, something hungry.
“Oh, kitten,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “you think you’re being serious, don’t you?”
You kept your grip firm on the back of his neck, refusing to back down. “I am serious.”
The way his eyes softened at your determined expression made your stomach flip. He found you adorable—your attempt at taking control only seemed to amuse him more. “Look at you,” he said, voice dripping with affection and a hint of that ever-present teasing. “So tough, huh?”
Before you could say anything else, Sylus closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands, which had been holding you so delicately, tightened their grip, pulling you flush against him.
Your boldness evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a wave of flustered heat. The intensity of his kiss left you dizzy and though you had initiated this, you quickly realized you were in over your head. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment.
He broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle against your lips, his breath warm as he whispered, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You’re the one who made the move.”
You could barely respond, too flustered to form words. He loved it—he could see it in your wide eyes, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. You’d been so bold just moments before, but now? Now, you were back to being the adorable, innocent girl that had him wrapped around her finger.
Sylus leaned in again, this time brushing his lips over your cheek, down to your jaw, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “So cute when you’re all shy like this.”
Your hands trembled slightly, but you held onto him, trying not to completely melt under his touch. “I’m not… shy” you mumbled, but the words came out weak, betraying how flustered you really were.
“Oh, sure” he teased, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “Is that why you can’t even look me in the eyes right now?”
You wanted to protest, to regain some sense of composure but before you could, his hand slid down from your waist, trailing over your hip, slow and deliberate. His touch sent a shock of heat through you, and you instinctively arched toward him, though the movement only made you feel more embarrassed.
Sylus grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you responded to him. “What happened to handling everything, kitten? Still think you’re in control?”
The way he spoke, his voice thick with amusement and a teasing edge, made it clear he was fully aware of the effect he had on you. He wanted to push you, see how far he could take it.
His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing over the curve of your thigh, teasing you just enough to leave you breathless. He pulled back just slightly, his face hovering above yours, his eyes scanning your flushed expression with a mixture of fondness and wicked delight.
“You look so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his tone soft but with that same edge. “But you’re not ready for the things I want to do to you, are you?”
Your breath caught in your throat, but you met his gaze, determined not to back down completely. “Try me,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky.
Sylus chuckled again, leaning down to kiss you once more, slower this time, savoring the moment. “Oh, kitten,” he whispered between kisses, “you’re going to be so much fun.”
Sylus hovered over you, his lips barely leaving yours as he deepened the kiss, drawing out every flustered breath and soft sound you made. His hand, still trailing over your thigh, paused, fingers curling just enough to make you squirm beneath him. He pulled back, only an inch, enough to look at you with that knowing smirk—the one that told you he had complete control of the situation, no matter how much you’d tried to take charge.
“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, voice low, dark, but still teasing. His hand slid higher, resting on the bare skin just beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb brushing in soft circles that made it impossible to focus.
You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest, but you managed to meet his gaze with more boldness than you felt. “Yea,I can handle it.”
For a second, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his smirk softened into something more, something almost affectionate. “You’re adorable,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Trying so hard to be brave.”
Before you could respond, his hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, drawing a soft gasp from you. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your neck. “But you don’t have to pretend with me, kitten. I know exactly how to get under your skin.”
The teasing lilt in his voice sent a thrill through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness, the way his fingers danced across your skin made it impossible to keep up the act. Your breath quickened, and you could feel the heat rising in your face as his touch became more deliberate, more confident.
“See?” he murmured, his lips brushing over your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You’re already trembling, sweetie. I told you… you’re not ready for this.”
His words were a challenge, but they weren’t mocking. It was as if he was genuinely testing you, seeing how far you’d go before backing down. And despite the way he was unraveling you, you weren’t ready to surrender just yet.
“I can handle you,” you whispered, though the quiver in your voice betrayed your confidence.
Sylus chuckled softly, his lips moving up to your ear, the sound of his voice sending a shiver through you. “Is that right?” His hand slid even higher, fingers brushing dangerously close to places that made you gasp. “Then why do you sound so nervous, kitten?”
Your face burned, and you instinctively bit your lip to stop the soft whimper threatening to escape. But Sylus wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily. His lips were back at your neck, pressing a lingering kiss there before whispering, “I love how quiet you get when you’re flustered. It’s like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”
You could feel the warmth of his smile against your skin and it made your pulse race even faster. His hand moved deliberately now, tracing the edge of your inner thigh, teasing but not giving you what you secretly craved. It was maddening how in control he was, how effortlessly he played with your reactions.
“You’re so easy to read, sweetie,” he said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression both amused and intense. “I could keep this up all night, just watching you squirm.”
You couldn’t help it—your face flushed a deep red and you looked away, embarrassed by how easily he was getting to you. But Sylus wouldn’t let you escape that easily. He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently turning your face back to his.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “I want to see every expression, every little blush. It’s too cute to miss.”
The tenderness in his words made your chest tighten, but there was still a darkness to them, a possessiveness that left you breathless. You were caught between the soft affection he was showing you and the overwhelming heat of his touch and you were losing, fast.
“I can’t…” you started, but the words fell apart as he leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. His hand slid higher, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, and you gasped into his mouth, your body arching involuntarily toward him.
He broke the kiss just to smirk against your lips, clearly loving the way you were reacting. “Can’t what, sweetie?” he teased, his breath mingling with yours. “You were so sure you could handle it.”
Your mind was spinning, and though you’d started this, it was clear that Sylus had taken control completely. But despite how flustered you were, you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more, even if you could barely keep up with him.
“I can handle it,” you whispered, more determined now, though your voice shook.
Sylus smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down again, this time his lips brushing just beneath your ear. “You’re so stubborn, kitten. I like that about you.”
Then, his hand slid down, tracing a slow, torturous path along your inner thigh. His touch was light, teasing, just enough to leave you aching for more but never giving in completely.
“But you still have so much to learn.”
Sylus’s smirk deepened as he watched your breath hitch, every little movement you made betraying just how much he was affecting you. His fingers, still tracing delicate patterns along your inner thigh, were slow, deliberate, and maddeningly teasing. Every time he got close enough to make your heart race, he’d pull back just a little, dragging out your anticipation until it felt unbearable.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped lower, sending a thrill down your spine. “You’re trembling already, kitten. You’re not used to this, are you? No one’s touched you like this before.”
You didn’t trust yourself to respond, but that only made his smile grow. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your neck, letting the heat from his lips sink into your skin. His free hand slid up to your waist, gripping just firm enough to make you arch toward him instinctively. He knew exactly how to play with your body, how to drive you wild without even giving you what you wanted.
Sylus pulled back just slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and the intensity in them made your stomach flip. He tilted his head, watching every flustered expression cross your face, drinking in the way your lips parted, the soft, breathless sounds that escaped you.
“Still think you can handle me?” he whispered, his voice rich with amusement, but his touch told a different story—it was heavier now, more intent.
You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible with him this close. His fingers trailed back up your thigh, higher this time, slipping just beneath the edge of your underwear, the movement slow, teasing.
The sensation made you gasp, your body instinctively pushing closer to his. That small, desperate movement wasn’t lost on Sylus. He grinned, clearly loving how much you were craving his touch now.
“You’re not as innocent as you act, are you, kitten?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “Look at how you’re moving for me. You’re not shy now, are you?”
His words sent a wave of heat through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness from earlier, you couldn’t deny how flustered you were under his control. Your body was betraying you, responding to every touch, every low whisper and Sylus was enjoying every second of it.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, but he didn’t kiss you—not yet. He stayed there, close enough that you could feel his breath, the teasing proximity making your pulse quicken.
“You’re going to have to ask for it,” he whispered, his voice dark and tempting. “If you want more, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell me.”
Your mind was spinning, but the heat of the moment made it impossible to think clearly. Sylus’s hand was still tormenting you, fingers barely brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs, teasing you in a way that made it hard to form words.
“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as his touch grew more deliberate, his fingers moving in slow, torturous circles that left you breathless.
“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, his lips grazing your jaw, his voice dripping with amusement. “I know you want it. Just say it.”
You could barely breathe, let alone speak, but the way he was looking at you, the way his touch had you completely at his mercy, left you no choice. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaky.
“Please what?” he asked, his tone smug, but his touch never faltered. “You have to tell me exactly what you want.”
Your heart raced as the words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but Sylus wasn’t going to give you any relief until you said it. He waited, his touch slow and deliberate, every movement sending shocks through your body.
“I want… more,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.
His smirk grew, clearly satisfied with your answer. “That’s a good girl” he murmured, and without warning, his fingers slid fully beneath the fabric, pressing against the heat of your body.
The sensation made you gasp, your back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure shot through you. Sylus’s hand moved with deliberate precision, his touch confident and unrelenting. He watched your reaction with a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes, clearly reveling in the way you responded to him.
“You’re so sensitive, kitten,” he whispered, his voice low and husky as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. “I could make you come just like this, couldn’t I? Just by playing with you a little.”
Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him, and you hated how much truth there was in his words. The heat was building inside you and the way Sylus’s fingers moved—slow but intentional, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—had you desperate for release.
But he wasn’t going to make it that easy for you.
Just when you were about to lose yourself completely, Sylus’s hand stilled, pulling back just enough to leave you breathless and aching. You let out a soft, frustrated whimper, but Sylus only smiled, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to your lips.
“Oh, sweetie,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with dark amusement. “I told you, I’m not going to be gentle. I want to see just how far I can push you.”
Sylus watched you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling under his touch. His lips ghosted over your neck, sending shivers through your body, while his hand lingered just out of reach, keeping you on edge. Your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, your body aching for him to push you further.
“Look at you, kitten,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with wicked intent. “So desperate already… all from a little teasing.”
You whimpered in frustration, your hips moving involuntarily toward his hand, silently begging him for more. But Sylus wasn’t going to give in that easily. He smirked against your skin, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive spot between your legs, but not applying enough pressure to give you what you wanted.
“I could keep you like this all night,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Just on the edge, begging for more. But…” His hand slid back into place, pressing more firmly now, drawing a gasp from you as he began moving again, slow and deliberate, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. “…I want to hear you scream my name.”
His fingers worked with maddening precision, moving in slow, rhythmic circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Every touch, every stroke, was pushing you higher, closer to the point of no return. Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the heat coiled tight inside you, ready to snap.
“That's it, sweetie,” Sylus whispered, his voice dark and enticing. “I can feel it. You’re so close, aren’t you?”
You could barely respond, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation building inside you. Your fingers gripped the sheets, your body trembling beneath him as his pace quickened, his touch becoming more relentless, more intense.
“Sylus…” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his tone both commanding and teasing. “I want to hear you say my name when you come.”
His words sent a thrill through you, and before you knew it, the wave hit you. Your body tensed, then shattered, pleasure crashing through you in overwhelming waves. You cried out his name, your voice shaky, breathless, as your body gave in to the intense release.
Sylus didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were trembling and gasping for breath, completely undone beneath him. Only then did he slow, pulling back just enough to leave you sensitive and spent, but still aching for more.
As your body came down from the high, Sylus grinned down at you, clearly pleased with the way he had unraveled you so completely. His eyes were dark with satisfaction, and that familiar teasing smirk was back on his lips.
“You look so cute when you’re a mess like this,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Was that what you wanted, kitten? Or did I push you too far?”
You could barely speak, still trying to catch your breath, but Sylus didn’t need a response. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing lazily down your thigh as he watched your flushed, exhausted expression.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone both affectionate and mocking. “I’ll take it easy on you… next time.”
He pulled back slightly, his fingers still brushing over your skin in slow, teasing strokes that made you shudder even in your sensitive state. “But you’ve got a lot to learn if you think you can keep up with me.”
You looked up at him, still dazed from the intensity of your climax, and Sylus’s smirk only deepened. He leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth before whispering against your lips, “You’re mine now, kitten. And I’m not done with you yet.”
Before you could respond, he slid his hand away completely, leaving you breathless and aching, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent
“We’re just getting started,” he teased, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he watched the lingering need in your eyes. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”
#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds sylus#sylus x reader#lads sylus#sylus#sylus x you
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DARK DESIRES
Last part of kinktober | main masterlist
ghostface!spencer x fem!reader; dubcon, knife play, sensory deprivation, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, rough sex
A twisted encounter with the masked killer roaming in your neighborhood had you questioning your morals because as it turned out, you were more attracted to him than you let on.
words: 6335
a/n: this fic might not be everyone's cup of tea. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, DO NOT ENGAGE. Anyway, thank you for the amount of love everyone has sent me through this short series. I appreciate it❤️
THE FIRST ENCOUNTER you had with the masked killer was at home. You were in your living room, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the television until the news captured your attention. You watched with a mix of fascination and horror as the unfolding report detailed a series of gruesome murders, each committed by a mysterious figure concealed behind a chilling mask.
"The armed suspect remains at large as law enforcement intensifies efforts for apprehension," the newscaster's voice declared. "Victims have sustained multiple stab wounds, with survivors recounting a chilling detail of a mysterious call from an unknown number before each attack. Citizens are urgently requested to report any suspicious phone activity."
As you sat there engrossed, a sense of dread began to coil around you. The details of the gruesome murders had been haunting enough, but a chilling realization gripped you as the camera panned across the crime scenes. Your eyes widened as the news footage revealed a recognizable building. That was the local library a few blocks away from your house.
A shiver went down your spine, and a cold unease settled in the pit of your stomach, as you realized that one of the victims was the young teenage boy who volunteered at the town's library every weekend. It then dawned on you with chilling clarity—a serial killer was lurking in your neighborhood.
The second time you saw the masked killer, his face was plastered around town. Ghostface. That was what they called him. The once-anonymous menace had transformed into a chilling icon that echoed through hushed conversations and whispered warnings. His mask, a pale and expressionless countenance with hollow eyes, exuded an unsettling aura of anonymity. It was what you saw in every corner; materializing on posters, shop windows, and even billboards.
Beware of Ghostface!
It was ironic. For someone who was murdering people with his bare hands, your community was giving him too much attention. It wasn't until you saw a group of well-dressed people, who clearly weren't from around here, that you realized how serious this situation was.
When the FBI arrived, you knew it was no longer a local matter, but a national concern. There was reassurance in their presence, in the sense that the full force of specialized agents was now focused on apprehending the killer that haunted the streets. But despite their formidable presence, against all expectations, the masked killer continued to pursue more victims.
You couldn't help but wonder every time someone you knew was reported dead—were these people even doing their job right? What were they doing here when they couldn't arrest one person when they came in a full pack?
You never really noticed these agents, although you did sometimes see them lurking around shops and houses to ask questions. You didn't really give them much attention, until that one night when you walked back from work and saw a figure leaning casually against a sleek, black SUV adorned with government markings.
He was standing alone, arms crossed and eyes focused on you as you slowly stepped closer because the only way to your house was to pass this street. He was clad in the quintessential FBI vest over his dress shirt and tie, his sleeves rolled up along his forearms. His height commanded attention, casting a subtle shadow that seemed to stretch into the surrounding darkness.
A cascade of curly, unruly locks framed his face, falling in a chaotic dance that obscured much of his features. But even in the dark, you could tell he was handsome, and the messiness of his hair added a touch of his disheveled charm. Yet, it was his eyes that held you captive. Stark and penetrating. Instead of finding comfort in the presence of an authority, you felt an unsettling chill crawl down your spine as his stare lingered on you.
"You shouldn't walk alone at night with a killer on the loose," he stated abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence.
Caught off guard, you stammered in response, "I, uh, my house is right around the corner."
His eyes, still fixed on you, held an inscrutable intensity. You shuddered. Without thinking much, and fueled by a sudden surge of unease, you briskly left his side.
People say the third time's a charm, that the idea after two unsuccessful attempts or failures, the third attempt is more likely to be successful or fortunate. However, in your case, you didn't know what to make of it when you encountered the masked killer for the third time.
It started with a call.
At first, you didn't bother the unknown number flashing on your phone, especially when a killer was roaming around town with its known trademark of calling his victims before his attack. So you ignored it and continued to prepare your dinner. But then it rang again. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth time it constantly rang, you realized, that whoever was on the other line wasn't going to stop until you answered.
"Hello?" you nervously greeted.
"Hello there. Took you long enough," the voice on the other line replied. It was soft, distinctly masculine, quite disoriented, yet it carried a mysterious familiarity that you couldn't put your finger on.
"Who is this?"
"A person."
You scoffed. "Charming. Goodbye."
"Wait—no! Don't hang up!"
There was a sudden nagging sense that you had heard this voice somewhere before. "No, really, who is this?"
"A secret admirer."
You raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it," you said, leaning over the kitchen counter. "No one has ever had a crush on me."
"Well, I do."
"Tell me who you are then.”
"But it won't be a secret anymore."
You paused for a moment. "You really know me?"
"Of course, I do."
"Do I know you then?"
"Maybe," he answered, a playful ambiguity threading his response. "So, you got a boyfriend?"
What an odd question.
"Why?" You laughed. "You wanna ask me out on a date?"
"Maybe," he responded again. "So do you have a boyfriend?"
"No."
"That's a pity," he sighed, his tone taking on a flirtatious note. "You look too good in that shirt without a man appreciating it."
Your heart quickened at his words. Was he... you looked around your house, your eyes traveling across the many windows adorned in your personal space.
"W- What did you say?"
"You look too good in that white shirt," he repeated. "Doesn't leave much to the imagination."
You looked down at yourself. The shirt he mentioned was actually a tanktop you decided to wear for bed, but you weren't wearing anything else under it, so true to his words, this piece of clothing didn't leave much to the imagination. The hemline hung low on your chest, leaving a perfect view of your cleavage. The cold temperature of the room managed to make your body react, which was why your nipples were pressing hard against the material.
"Hello? Are you still here?" Sensing your silence, the voice on the other line held a sudden edge of urgency. "Wait—don't you hang up on me—"
You quickly ended the call. Feeling a sudden need for privacy, you hastily closed the curtains, shutting out the view from the windows as you clutched your phone in your hand. Your heart raced, and a wave of dread engulfed you. The unsettling possibility that someone might be targeting you, and not just anyone, but the masked killer, cast a chilling shadow over your thoughts.
The phone rang again. You hesitated, a part of you urging against answering, but somehow, almost involuntarily, you found yourself pressing the phone against your ear. The adrenaline of fear seemed to override your rational instincts, even against your better judgment.
"I told you not to hang up on me," the man greeted you, but his voice lacked the soft, friendly tone it had before. Instead, it had morphed into something more sinister.
"Wh-who is this?" you asked. "What do you want?"
"To volunteer. Let me appreciate how good you look tonight."
You were desperate now. Your feet guided you to the front door, and you locked it securely before quickly running up the stairs. Panic seized you as you checked and secured all the windows, the sense of vulnerability amplifying with each lock turned.
A sudden sound of laughter filled your ear.
"What you're doing is useless," he taunted. Then, with a sinister tone that cut through the air, his next words had you stopping in your tracks.
"I'm already inside."
The air in the house thickened with dread as his words hung ominously. Panic set in, and the once-familiar surroundings now felt like a trap closing in around you. Every creak of the house, every flicker of shadow, became a sign of impending danger.
He was the one to end the call, and you looked down at your front door from the top of your stairs. You calculated how long it would take you to escape your own house as you slowly descended down. But then, the closet door by the front, the small room where you kept your coats and unused items, suddenly opened.
The creak of the door echoed through the silence, and your eyes fixated on the widening gap. Your escape route seemed to diminish and fear paralyzed you. The once-familiar confines of your home now held an intruder, and as you stared at the ominous opening, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Your eyes widened, because right in the flesh was none other than Ghostface, stepping out of your closet with a knife in his hand. The chilling reality gripped you, and time seemed to slow as the masked intruder stood before your eyes. The pale, ghostly visage stared back at you.
You moved on instinct. You turned on your heels and ran back up the stairs, even when you were aware there was no escape unless you jumped out of your window. But it was a better plan than running right into the arms of a killer, so you picked up your pace, sprinting as fast as you could down the hallway.
But he was fast, unnaturally so, and suddenly you felt a vice-like grip around your waist. His hand urged you with brutal force before slamming your back against the wall. The impact reverberated through your body, and a gasp caught in your throat as the cold surface of the wall pressed against you.
His presence loomed, the masked figure inches from your face. The hollow eyes of Ghostface bore into yours through the chilling mask, and the glint of the knife in his hand reflected the cruel intent that hung in the air.
Panic engulfed you as his other gloved hand circled around your throat. "Pl-Please.." you chocked, struggling against the force he pressed on your neck. "...don't—don’t kill me."
The air felt constricted, and the desperate plea escaped your lips in a struggled gasp. The gloved hand tightened its grip, the leather cool against your skin, as Ghostface's masked visage remained impassive.
"Kill you?" he asked, an eerie edge in his voice. "That's the last thing I want to do right now."
You desperately placed a hand on his wrist as you let your phone hit the ground.
"Don't move," he warned. But you kept on thrashing around, the primal instinct for survival overriding reason, and he tightened his grip on you. "If you keep struggling, I might have to gut you out like a damn fish."
That made you stop. Satisfied you were listening, he finally let go of your throat. The release brought a gasp of air, and you stumbled back, leaning against the wall.
"I'm not here to kill you," Ghostface declared, the chilling mask betraying no emotion. "But I do have something else in mind."
He responded by caressing your face and pinning you against the wall. The cold, gloved hand traced a chilling path across your skin, and you felt the sharp contrast between the mask and the vulnerability of your flesh. He tilted his head as he saw the fear in your eyes, tears welling at the corners.
"Aw, come on, don't look so scared," he murmured, a perverse tenderness in his voice that clashed with the situation. His sharp blade went to your throat, the cold steel sending a shiver down your spine. He forced you to stare into the hollowness of the mask.
"Let me have my fun."
You felt the blade on your skin as he dragged the weapon along your body. He smiled when he noticed you tensing, trying to avoid the sharpness of the blade from grazing your skin. Through tear-filled eyes, you looked up, struggling to catch your breath. Fear still consumed you, a chilling grip on your senses, but alongside it, an unexpected emotion stirred. Curiosity.
As you gazed at the masked killer looming over you, a strange sense of intrigue took place. It was a baffling response, the surreal proximity to the infamous Ghostface left you grappling with a mix of terror and fascination. The sheer scale of his presence seemed to stretch into the shadows, and you couldn't help but wonder—was he actually this tall?
A sudden movement caught your attention as he took a step. He moved underneath the black cloak he wore, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he slipped a leg between yours. The confined space of the hallway seemed to shrink further as his presence pressed in on you.
And then there was silence. The air hung heavy with anticipation, and you sensed a deliberate slowness in his actions. It was as if he offered you a chance to resist, to push him away. But you didn't move. Instead, you held your breath, the rhythmic pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet.
"You've stopped struggling," he hummed to himself, trailing the knife over your shoulder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
There wasn't time for you to reply as he hooked the blade under your top and ran it along the fabric, watching it snap under the sharp surface. The cool air hit your skin as you were suddenly exposed to him. Without warning, his other hand moved over your breasts, squeezing them roughly, earning a gasp from you. Your heart pounded with something akin to fear, or perhaps, it oddly felt like… excitement?
"Of course, you are," he muttered, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You could feel the cool touch of his gloved hand over your skin as he brushed his thumb over your sensitive bud. "Knew you were a fucking slut."
What was happening? It was wrong, morally twisted, yet you found a strange sense of anticipation as he continued to touch you. Your body was shaking, not just from fear, but from something else. While your rational side recoiled at what was happening, your body seemed to betray a darker truth.
You hated yourself. You loathed how easily you were giving in. You kept on reciting how wrong this was in your head, but when you felt the blade cut through the fabric of your shorts with ease, you didn't mind as much. Then your breath hitched when he quickly ripped your panties with his knife, and somehow you were now naked with his leg placed between your thighs.
"Would you look at that?" He taunted, his leathered hand moving over your curves. "You're dripping."
You let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up your thigh, stopping just before his fingers brushed over your heat. The touch was so faint it shouldn't have even had that much of an effect on you, but it did. It fucking did.
This was so unlike you, you weren't the kind of person to let someone you barely knew touch you. You even disliked the idea of a one-night stand. Yet here you were, legs wide open as you let a murderer touch you, and the messed up thing was, you wanted more.
He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing your clit teasingly as if to test your reaction. You bit your bottom lip, stopping yourself from moaning aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as he played with your clit skillfully.
He was far too good at this, you found yourself thinking. Your body jerked as he increased his pace and you knew he had a goal in mind—to make you fall apart. The fast pace of his fingers had your brows furrowing as you chewed your bottom lip, desperate to keep quiet despite the way your hips bucked and rolled against his hand. He let out a chilling laughter.
"Stop acting like you don't want this," he said, increasing his pressure on your clit. Your eyes screwed shut, and you focused on that touch alone, the leather sliding over your wet skin. "Let me hear your pathetic voice."
You shook your head furiously.
"No?" He mocked. "You wanna bet how fast I can make you scream?"
His fingers moved from your clit, dragging down your slit and collecting your juices, briefly stroking you, earning a muffled cry out of you. Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually. He laughed again.
"I'm going to make you scream so loud your neighbors will know how much of a slut you are."
And then he pressed the edge of the blade on your throat at the same time he plunged two fingers inside you. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open and a loud squeal left your lips, the sound distorted by the vibrations surging through your body. He hummed in satisfaction at how fast it was to earn that moan from your lips, and surprisingly, he loved the sound you made.
It didn't take long for him to force more sounds out of your pretty mouth. You felt the coolness of the wall behind your back, the pads of your fingers brushing over the concrete in a pathetic attempt to get a hold of something, anything that could keep you steady while his fingers kept pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt with a wet, squelching sound.
Adrenaline surged through your veins, saturating every cell of your trembling body. The electrifying rush heightened your senses, amplifying the surreal nature of the pleasure. You wriggled your hips under the pressure of his body that was keeping you pinned against the wall, feeling so fucking embarrassed by the wetness dripping out of you.
"Fucking filthy, letting a murderer touch you." He then dragged his fingers out of you and started to rub your clit in tight, rapid circles. You practically cried out and quickly bit your lower lip to subside another embarrassing moan. "You know how many people I've killed with this hand? The same hand touching your sweet little pussy?"
Your thighs tightened around his hand, trying desperately to push him away. He responded by sinking three of his fingers inside you and groaned at the way you were clenching around him. "Look at you taking my fingers so well."
The leather slightly burned your skin, and somehow, it only heightened your pleasure. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit hard as he continued to curl his fingers. You gasped as your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him while his fingers pushed deeper into you, touching a spot you had never been aware of. The sensation brought an unusual feeling to your senses. You looked at him in confusion, your eyes widening.
"Pl- Please, stop," you begged out of fear of the unknown. The tickling in your abdomen was becoming almost unbearable, and you clasped your thighs together and involuntarily bent your knees a little in an attempt to make his fingers slip out of your wet cunt.
With a feral growl, he suddenly threw the knife on the floor before wrapping his hand around your throat, pinning your head against the wall.
"Take it," he hissed and tightened his grip, making you jolt forward. You helplessly part your legs and whimpered as his palm brushed over your clit with every thrust, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he held you in place. "Fucking take it."
The sensation was overwhelming to the point tears began to trickle down your face, and you tried to desperately blink them away as they hindered your vision.
"Oh, you're crying now?" He cooed, still rocking his fingers violently inside you. "Pathetic."
Before you knew it, your hips were bucking, distraught cries escaping you. Your body shuddered as if it were under his control, forcing out your orgasm like it was effortless as his fingers curled inside you, continuing to stimulate you even after you begged him to stop.
It wasn't long before he was bringing you back up again. His pace turned into a more intense speed that, to your surprise, the familiar contracting of your pulsing walls was followed by the splurge of weird liquid coming out of you. Your mouth fell open as you writhed against him, your sensitive cunt almost numb to the sensation as he pressed you for more.
You were so numb you could no longer feel his fingers buried deep inside your convulsing walls, squeezing around his digits as you shook in the tremors of your release. When you looked at him in shock, cheeks burning crimson and chest rising and falling heavily, a pretentious laugh left him. With a vulgar squelching sound, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy.
"Squirting like a pathetic slut,” he spat, his other hand still wrapped around your neck. "Told you I'd make you scream."
Your body turned pliant as you gave in and sank against the wall. You watched him lean down through your half-lidded eyes as you tried to ground yourself, his movements deliberate and swift, grabbing your wrecked shirt from the floor. You watched in confusion as he pressed the flimsy material together before firmly shoving it over your eyes.
Panic surged through you as the sudden darkness enveloped our vision. Although you couldn't see him, you heard him very well. His muffled breathing behind the mask, the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusted the material at the back of your head. Your other senses were heightened when you were robbed of your vision that you could even smell him.
The sharp scent of sweat and a faint hint of earthiness clung to him, as though remnants of the ground followed his presence. Yet, amidst the rawness, there was a surprising note of sweetness, as if a subtle cologne lingered beneath the surface.
God, he was so close. His chest was now pressed against yours, and then suddenly, almost forcefully, you felt warm hands grip your jaw. Your mouth fell open.
He took off his gloves.
Goosebumps rose on your skin when a sudden breeze of air brushed across your face and you gasped. You could barely think clearly, and you could barely even brace yourself when harsh lips captured your mouth desperately. You couldn't believe what was happening, because holy fuck—you were kissing Ghostface.
There was nothing remotely gentle about the way he kissed you. A deep shuddering groan rippled through him as he continued to assault your lips. You were too stunned at the way he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you in a way that had your body trembling at the sheer force of intensity traveling through your veins.
And when you finally felt his bare fingers grazing along your drenched core, going up and down your swollen folds, he captured the moan falling through your lips with a groan.
"So fucking filthy," he whispered against your lips as he continued to tease you. His voice, once muffled, was now very clear. The tones were distinct, carrying an inexplicable familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory. But before you could even try to recall where you had heard it before, he surprised you by increasing the speed of his fingers.
"You want more of this, don't you?"
You shook your head, but your body was saying otherwise. Your hand gripped his arm as he started to play with your clit again, and your knees buckled pathetically. His other hand fell on your waist to steady you while he pressed a kiss on the hollow point of your throat, traveling further up the skin till his teeth nibbled on your ear lobe.
He then grabbed onto one of your legs and hiked it around his waist as he pushed his hips into you. You could feel the outline of his hard cock behind the cloak he was wearing and you let out a whimper when he started rolling his hips.
"Is this what you want?" He rasped out at the shell of your ear. You felt strong hands grip your wrists before he pushed them above your head, pining you against the wall. "You want me to fill you up with my cock?"
You shook your head again, attempting to anchor yourself. The struggle was evident in the tension of your muscles, each fiber resisting the pull toward surrender. You should push him. You should cry for help. Yet here you were questioning your sanity as you slowly, almost desperately, grind your hips along with his, yearning for more friction.
"Dirty, dirty slut," he muttered against your lips before kissing you once again, swallowing your whimpers as his hips snapped into you. "I bet you feel so tight around me."
Desire roared fire in your veins, and you whined. He leaned over and captured one of your nipples in his wet, warm mouth, and you moaned again before he let out a satisfied hum. You could practically feel the smirk curling on his lips as he taunted, "You react so well. I might have to keep you."
Goosebumps rose along your skin. Then in a swift and forceful motion, he yanked you, abruptly pushing you to the ground. The impact was sudden and jarring, leaving you landing on your knees.
As you tried to make sense of what was happening, a hand pushed against your back, and you toppled forward, landing on the ground face-first, finding yourself on your hands and knees. A sharp smack hit your bare ass from behind and you jolted in surprise.
"Spread them wide for me," He murmured, gaze skipping over your nakedness. He marveled at the sight before him, the way you shamelessly arched your back at his command. Yet when he noticed you hesitating, he dropped his voice in a lower, sinister tone.
"Don't make me use my knife."
You quickly did as you were told, your hands traveling behind you, spreading your sticky thighs in a languorous stretch, and you shuddered under the weight of his eyes. You whined at the feeling of the cold air hitting your exposed skin and a trickle of your arousal ran down your thigh, much to your utter embarrassment. "Look how pretty you are."
Heat blossomed in your chest. Then the sound of a belt being undone had you whimpering, and you moved instinctively, arching your back even further. One of his hands landed on your ass again with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. You could hear more rustling and a slight soft thud behind you. The lack of vision made you overly sensitive and you found yourself waiting with bated breath for his every move.
With a sharp tug, he pulled you back by your hips before one of his hands landed on the back of your neck. You felt him push down hard and you obliged, lowering your face and upper body to the floor as his other hand remained holding your hips up in the air. And then you felt him—pulsing warm right at your entrance.
A pitiful groan escaped your lips as the tip of his cock swiped back and forth along your folds. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around the small space at the feel of your arousal coating him. And then suddenly, without warning, he abruptly plunged inside of you. He thrust straight into that spot deep inside that stung so good a sharp cry slipped out of you. It was painful, his sheer force of girth stretching you apart, though that cry quickly became a low moan of pleasure.
The man behind you showed no mercy, thrusting his hips into you with force and purpose, so hard you felt your body inching across the hardwood floor with each stroke. Your mouth fell open when one of his hands released your neck before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you and he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher.
He held himself there as he used the grip on your hair to haul you backward to him. Your back was arched, his cock still buried deep inside of you as you fell back into his chest. For a few moments, it was almost uncomfortable, but then, surprisingly, you felt even more aroused than you already were.
You pushed your ass even higher, arching your body in search of more of that delicious sensation. It felt like electricity shocked your entire body, triggering intense waves of pleasure that repeatedly spread wildly from your core as you focused on the pleasure building between your legs, the burning sensation filling you to the brim.
It was maddening. Frustrating, even. Because you didn't even care anymore, you didn't even care if you exposed for him, you didn't even care if your knees ached from the hard friction of the floor because any shreds of sanity and pride had long since been destroyed. You wanted more. You needed more.
It was so twisted. You longed to be broken by him. You longed to be ruined by him.
You had never imagined being in this position, kneeling on the floor with a murderer thrusting himself into you, yet here you were, whimpering at the sensation of doing the forbidden. Your mind turned delirious he released the hold on your hair, his hand snaking around your front to grip your throat.
You continued to meet his savage thrusts with your hips, slamming into you as your wail turned into a ragged scream. The sensation, though pleasurable, became too intense to handle. You attempted to move away from him, stealing his breath as your inner walls clenched around his cock. His firm hand gripped your hips tighter, preventing you from pulling away as he held you in position, thrusting his cock into your throbbing pussy.
A helpless sound trickled from your throat as your body jerked, and he mercilessly fucked you through it. Everything was so intense your mind was struggling to comprehend what was happening as he pounded into you roughly. You tried to breathe through the incredible pleasure surging through your body but you were too overwhelmed. "T-Too much."
"T-Too much," he mocked. A sinister laugh sliced through the darkness, sending shivers down your spine. "Fucking. Take. It."
His words were punctuated with every snap of his hips. The insistent thrust made you thrash your head as your body convulsed, dragging it out and heightening it to a point where you could only wail. Your breath came in harsh pants; his breathing was as rough as he urged you on, and you gave yourself over to the wildfire consuming your body. You whimpered, head rolling back onto his shoulder.
"That's it, taking me so perfectly," his voice, now a sinister whisper, slithered into your ears. "Knew you were special the moment I saw you."
A gasp escaped you, the weight of his words settling with an unsettling realization. Amidst the darkness, you felt the contours of his laughter.
"Don't act so surprised. I'm your secret admirer, remember?" You felt his hand leave your hips before it trailed toward your front. You knew what he was about to do and you clenched him involuntarily, already anticipating what was to come.
"Fuck," He hissed. "You feel so tight around me. I really do have to keep you now."
The coil inside you was dangerously close to snapping and he growled as your cunt clenched around his cock.
"Oh, you liked that. You like the idea of me using you? Fuck you whenever I want?" He questioned, his fingers moving to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. You bit down on your lower lip, feeling the coil in your abdomen tightening at his sharp movements, your hands moving to his wrist as you tried to ground yourself.
You gasped when you felt him tightening the grip on your throat, the skin tingling as he repeated the motion. "Filthy little thing, aren't you?"
"I-I—" You spluttered, feeling your legs going numb. You squealed when you felt him pick up his pace on your clit, rubbing messy circles against it as your back slumped against him, mouth parting, your tongue slipping out between your lips.
It was too much. You felt like you were about to explode. Your mind went blank. Your body felt numb. There was nothing else you could do but to give into the force of pleasure consuming you as he fucked you roughly, his hips hitting you in harsh motions.
"You gonna cum now?" He grunted, pressing his mouth at the shell of your ear. You helplessly nodded, not able to make out any coherent words anymore. He groaned between thrusts, keeping a firm grip on your ass to keep you from squirming. "Go on then, cum on my cock like the filthy whore that you are."
As if on command, your body spasmed involuntarily. It started with a prickling of your skin creeping up your body, over your breasts and face, inner walls tightening around his cock, and you came hard. You squirmed uncontrollably as all that pent-up pleasure welled up in your core. Your heart was pounding erratically against your heaving chest you could even hear the pounding in your ears.
Your mind was in a drunken haze as the pleasure continued to flow through your veins, his fingertips languidly brushed against your clit. But despite the desperate spasms of your pussy, he continued to penetrate your body. Every thrust hit more intensely than the last, wetness flooded from you as reality slipped away, and all you could do was burn, vocally urging him on as he moaned darkly behind you.
You were very far from sanity from everything consuming your body. You felt him everywhere. His grinding cock, the press of his fingers as they moved to toy with your clit, and his blunt nails cut around your throat. Your cunt continued to possessively grip his cock as you wailed breathlessly.
Heat traveled through you, body quivering and going boneless, the warm ripples of release dulling the sharp edges of your mind as he drove into you and finally chased his own high. The filthy feel of him emptying inside you, your shimmering release, and his hands decorating your skin with fingerprint bruises, was all you could focus on.
Until the distinct sound of sirens echoed in the background.
Your mind went hazy as you tried to anchor yourself and you heard him chuckle in amusement. "I guess you really woke your neighbors up," he said, letting go of his grip around your throat. You let out a breathless sigh when you felt him slipping out of you, surprisingly feeling empty.
He groaned as his eyes traveled down, watching the way his release dripped down the length of your thighs. “It’s a pity I have to cut this short.” Then you felt his lips near your ear. “Until next time."
"W- What?" Your head snapped up. "You'll come back?"
"I'll be here when you least expect it." Then the unexpected happened. He surprised you with a gentle kiss on your shoulder, a stark contrast from everything that had taken place. "Keep your doors unlocked for me."
A sudden emptiness enveloped you as he withdrew from your personal space. Your mind was struggling to make sense of what happened. And now the realization that he wasn't behind you anymore prompted your hands to instinctively reach for the makeshift blindfold, swiftly slipping it off your face.
Blinking in the sudden light, your eyes adjusted to the surroundings. Your eyes caught his figure standing tall at the top of your staircase, back turned, a fleeting glimpse of brown curls disappearing beneath the mask he hastily put back on.
He abruptly turned to you. A shuddered gasp escaped your lips as he looked at you for another fleeting second, as if he was giving you a silent promise as the faint sound of sirens continued from the distance. You stared back at him, heart thrumming in your chest.
And then he was gone.
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfic#ghostface imagine#ghostface smut
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I absolutely love how you write for the bg3 companions!!
Can we get romanced companions reacting to seeing Tav being approached by an abusive ex, who grabs them violently when Tav tries to walk away from the confrontation? They are grabbed violently by the hair, neck, wrist, etc? Thank you!!
omg yessssssssss tw everyone this will contain themes of abuse and domestic violence so if you are uncomfortable with that please click off and I will see you in the next one xox
Karlach:
The tavern was warm and lively, filled with the buzz of laughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of an old bard strumming away in the corner. You sat close to Karlach at a small, dimly lit table, her broad grin as radiant as ever. Her laughter boomed over some silly tale you'd told, her joy contagious as the two of you sipped from your mugs. The night was going perfectly—until they showed up.
You didn’t see your ex at first, but you heard their voice, a cold and unwelcome shard of your past cutting through the tavern’s warmth. “Well, well. Look who it is.”
Your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you saw them, standing just a few feet away with that same cruel smirk you’d hoped to never see again. They looked the same, too—bitter, angry, and clearly still holding a grudge. Karlach’s laughter faded as she noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Her eyes flicked between you and the person now looming over your table.
“Not here,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with warning. “Don’t make a scene. Just leave.”
They laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that turned heads. “Oh, I’m making a scene?” they sneered, stepping closer. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like nothing happened?”
You tried to stand, but before you could, their hand shot out and grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin.
“You’re not going anywhere,” they hissed.
The motion was so sudden that the tavern seemed to freeze for a moment. The mug in Karlach’s hand thudded onto the table, her expression darkening in an instant.
“Get your hands off them,” she said, her voice a low, warning growl.
Your ex sneered at her, but before they could say anything more, Karlach shot up from her seat. She shoved them back with one powerful hand, forcing them to release you. The force sent them stumbling, their eyes widening in shock.
“You okay?” Karlach asked, her warm brown eyes filled with concern as she turned to you. Her hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing gently against your skin.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered slightly. “Let’s just—”
Before you could finish, your ex stormed back, their face twisted in rage. They lunged toward you, but they didn’t get far. Karlach’s fist met their face in a flash of fiery determination, the impact so loud it echoed through the now-silent tavern. Your ex crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious before they even hit the ground.
Karlach flexed her fingers, looking down at them with disdain.
“Idiot,” she muttered, then turned back to you. “C’mon, love. Let’s get out of here.”
You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your coat. As the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Karlach slipped an arm around your shoulders, her presence grounding you.
“Sorry about that,” you murmured after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think they’d—”
“Stop,” Karlach said gently, her voice firm but kind. “You don’t owe me an apology for their bullshit. What’s their deal, anyway?”
You hesitated but eventually sighed. “We were together a long time ago. It… wasn’t a good relationship. They were controlling, mean. It took everything I had to leave.”
Karlach’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of rage in her eyes as she looked straight ahead.
“Should’ve killed the arsehole,” she muttered under her breath.
You chuckled softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “You don’t have to solve everything with violence, you know.”
She looked down at you, her expression softening.
“Not everything,” she said with a small grin. “But that? They had it coming.” Her arm tightened around you. “No one gets to treat you like that. Not while I’m here.”
A warm wave of gratitude washed over you as you leaned into her, the safety of her presence more comforting than words could express. “Thank you, Karlach.”
“Always, love,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. As the two of you walked home, you felt lighter, knowing you were no longer alone in facing the ghosts of your past.
Minthara:
The streets of Baldur's Gate were alive with the din of activity: merchants haggling in the marketplace, children darting between the crowd, and the occasional bard strumming a jaunty tune. You walked alongside Minthara, her presence commanding, as always. Her arm curled around your waist with a possessiveness that was both protective and tender. Her silvery hair caught the evening light, and her voice, low and firm, reached your ear.
“We are being followed,” she murmured, her lips brushing your temple. “Someone’s gaze lingers far too long on you.”
Your heart sank, a sinking pit of familiarity clawing at your gut. You subtly glanced over your shoulder under the guise of adjusting your scarf, and that’s when you saw them: your abusive ex. Their figure lingered in the shadows, weaving through the crowd like a snake, their eyes fixed on you with that same unsettling intensity you had tried so hard to forget.
“Dammit,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. The weight of the moment sank in, and you let out a frustrated sigh.
Minthara’s amber eyes narrowed as she studied your expression.
“Who is that?” she asked, her voice icy and sharp.
You hesitated, considering whether to brush it off, but you knew better than to lie to Minthara. “Do you remember the scar just above my hip?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.
Her grip on your waist tightened as she nodded, her gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet intense.
“They gave it to me,” you admitted, keeping your voice steady. “It happened the day I tried to leave them. We fought, and—” You stopped, the memories creeping too close. “They’ve always had a hard time letting go.”
Minthara’s body went rigid. Her hand, still wrapped around your waist, stilled entirely, her nails pressing into the fabric of your tunic. Her jaw clenched, and before you could stop her, she uncoiled with terrifying precision and sprinted toward your ex.
“Minthara, wait!” you shouted, but it was useless. She was already closing the distance.
Your ex barely had time to react before Minthara tackled them to the ground with the force of a lioness taking down her prey. The crowd scattered, gasps and shouts echoing in the marketplace as she delivered blow after calculated blow. Each strike was vicious but efficient, aimed with the precision of someone trained to dismantle an opponent piece by piece. Her movements were smooth, brutal, and terrifyingly beautiful in their ruthlessness.
“Touch them again,” Minthara snarled, her voice low and venomous as she pressed her forearm against your ex’s throat, “and I will ensure that death would beg for you before I allow it.”
She delivered one final punch, leaving your ex groaning and crumpled in the dirt, their face bloodied and swollen. Satisfied, she stood, brushing her hands off as if she had merely swatted a fly. She strode back toward you, the calm precision of her movements making the crowd part before her like waves.
When she reached you, she lifted her chin, a faint, dangerous smile curling her lips.
“The injuries I’ve given them will take decades to heal,” she promised, her voice still simmering with fury. “And perhaps a century to scar.”
You stared at her, part of you unsure whether to admonish or thank her. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Minthara, you didn’t have to—”
“They hurt you,” she cut in, her voice softening only slightly as her gaze bored into yours. “That is reason enough.”
She reached out, brushing her thumb against your cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You are mine to protect. That wretch deserved every ounce of pain I inflicted.”
Despite the ferocity of her words, the warmth in her touch reminded you why you trusted her so deeply. With a soft sigh, you nodded, leaning into her hand.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, the weight of her actions settling in. Her smile widened, pride glinting in her eyes.
“Of course, my heart. No one who dares harm you will ever go unpunished.” She took your hand and began walking again, her steps measured and sure. As the chaos in the marketplace faded behind you, you couldn’t help but feel safer than you ever had before.
Lae'zel:
The bustling market was alive with noise: merchants shouting out their wares, children weaving between the stalls, and the occasional clang of metal as blacksmiths displayed their crafts. You and Lae’zel moved through the chaos, her sharp eyes scanning for supplies while you trailed beside her, taking in the sights. It was a moment of relative peace amidst your usual adventures.
And then, like a thunderclap on a clear day, you saw them. Your ex.
Before you could react, they were in front of you, their face lighting up with a joy that felt out of place—wrong, even. “There you are!” they exclaimed, pulling you into a hug so suddenly that you didn’t have time to resist. Their arms wrapped around you tightly, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as panic set in. It wasn’t the embrace of an old friend—it was a claim, a reminder of the control they once held over you.
“I’ve missed you,” they said with a grin, pulling back to look at you. “We have to catch up sometime.”
They left without waiting for your reply, disappearing into the crowd as if they hadn’t just turned your world upside down. You stood there, motionless, your heart pounding and your thoughts racing.
Lae’zel, who had been perusing a nearby stand, turned to you. Her amber eyes immediately narrowed, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to something far more dangerous.
“What is this?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to fight a dragon with a pitchfork. Who were they?”
You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat felt dry, and the words were stuck, lodged somewhere between fear and shame. Finally, you managed to stammer out, “That… That was my ex.”
Lae’zel’s eyes sharpened, her gaze cutting through you like a blade.
“And this is your reaction to a past lover? You are no stranger to affection, but you looked as though the mere touch of them turned your blood to acid.” Her voice lowered, her tone becoming more dangerous. “What did they do to you?”
You tried to explain, but the words faltered. Your lips moved, but the memories caught up with you, dragging you back into a place you didn’t want to revisit. You didn’t need to say it, though—Lae’zel saw the truth in your silence.
She cursed violently in Gith, the harsh, guttural sounds slicing through the air. Her hand tightened around her weapon, and her whole body tensed like a predator ready to strike.
“They hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a growl. “I will take their head and present it to you as a trophy.”
She turned, already scanning the crowd for their retreating form, but you reached out, grabbing her arm.
“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… wait a moment.”
Lae’zel hesitated, her muscles twitching with the need for action, but she stayed. Her eyes never left you as you closed yours and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within. She stayed close, her presence grounding you as you forced yourself to let go of the fear and focus on the present.
After a few moments, you opened your eyes and gave her a weak smile.
“Thank you,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I just needed a moment.”
Her gaze softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.
“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Because I will not let this stand.”
You nodded, a small gesture, but it was all she needed. With a fierce grin, she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd, her focus like a blade honed to perfection.
It didn’t take long for her to find them. You followed at a safe distance, your heart racing but unable to stop her now. She caught up to them near a fruit stall, grabbing them by the shoulder and spinning them around. They barely had time to react before Lae’zel shoved them against a wooden post, her face inches from theirs.
“You dare to touch what is mine?” she snarled, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “You have left scars on them that I cannot abide. For that, I will use your head as my footrest.”
The ex stammered, their confidence evaporating under her ferocity. Before they could say anything more, Lae’zel delivered a sharp blow to their stomach, doubling them over. She stepped back, letting them fall to their knees, then stood over them like a conqueror surveying her victory.
Satisfied that her message was clear, she turned and walked back to you, her expression fierce but triumphant.
“It is done,” she said simply. “They will not trouble you again.”
You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you despite the chaos. “Thank you,” you said, reaching out to take her hand.
Her grip was firm, reassuring. “No one hurts you and walks away unscathed,” she said. “Not while I draw breath.”
With that, she led you away, her protective presence a shield against the world.
Shadowheart:
The party was vibrant, full of chatter, music, and laughter. The hum of lively conversation filled the grand hall as you and Shadowheart wove through the crowd, wine glasses in hand. You hadn’t been entirely thrilled about attending, but Shadowheart’s soft insistence and the promise of shared moments made it worthwhile.
That was until you saw them—your ex.
They were standing near the center of a small group, regaling their audience with some elaborate tale, their gestures animated and their voice dripping with charm. Your stomach turned when they noticed you, their expression lighting up with the kind of false familiarity that set your nerves on edge. They sidled over, slipping seamlessly into your space, and before you could react, they had drawn you into their circle.
Shadowheart, ever watchful, stayed close, her sharp eyes flicking between you and your ex.
“We can leave,” she murmured under her breath, her voice calm but concerned. “Say the word.”
You shook your head, managing a strained smile.
“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, though your grip on your glass tightened slightly. You didn’t want to ruin the evening for her.
As the conversation swirled, your ex began telling a story—one about you. They spoke as if the two of you were still an item, peppering their tale with biting remarks and veiled insults.
“Oh, you should’ve seen them back then,” they sneered, “always so scatterbrained. Couldn’t even get through a simple task without my help.”
The group laughed awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension. Your face burned with a mix of anger and humiliation, but before you could find your voice, Shadowheart stepped forward, her demeanor cool and composed, but her eyes as sharp as daggers.
She interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through the conversation like a blade.
“That reminds me of a story from my past,” she said, her tone conversational yet chilling. The group turned to her, captivated by the quiet authority in her voice. “There was a time when I dealt with an exceptionally arrogant prisoner. They fancied themselves clever—always talking back, thinking they were in control. So I decided to teach them a lesson.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine as if the next part were merely an afterthought. “I ripped out their tongue and fed it to them.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The group stared at her, their eyes wide, as the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Your ex, who had been so confident mere moments ago, visibly paled, their mouth opening and closing as if searching for a retort.
Shadowheart tilted her head slightly, a faint, dangerous smile playing on her lips. “It’s remarkable how much quieter some people can be after a simple… correction.”
Your ex stammered something unintelligible before hastily excusing themselves, practically fleeing from the room. The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, bubbling sound of relief and delight. You turned to Shadowheart, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.
“Thank you,” you said, grinning. “The look on their face… I’ll treasure that forever.”
Shadowheart leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender yet possessive kiss.
“I love you,” she said softly, her words a vow as much as a declaration.
Then she pulled back slightly, her eyes glinting with something dark and resolute.
“Hold my wine,” she said, pressing her glass into your hand. “There’s something—or rather, someone—I need to deal with.”
Before you could protest, she was gone, her dark hair flowing like a shadow cutting through the crowd. You watched her go, a mixture of admiration and mild terror filling you. Whatever she had in mind, you knew one thing for certain: no one would dare cross her—or you—ever again.
Jaheira:
The warm hum of Jaheira's household had always been a comfort to you. The chatter of the children, the occasional laughter, and the scent of a home-cooked meal mingled with the faint floral aroma of the plants she meticulously tended. You were setting the table, ready to sit down for the evening meal with Jaheira and her family, when an insistent knock sounded at the door.
The sound froze you in place. It wasn’t the friendly, casual knock of a neighbor or friend. No, it was sharp and demanding, like someone who felt entitled to be heard. Dread pooled in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t that person anymore. You were stronger now, surrounded by people who cared for you.
Still, when you opened the door and saw your ex standing there, their familiar sneer twisting their features, that old fear reared its head.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, keeping your voice firm. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
Your ex scoffed, taking a step closer. “I’ll decide where I should be,” they spat. “We have unfinished business.”
Your heart raced, but you held your ground. “Leave,” you repeated, gripping the doorframe tightly. “Now.”
Their response was to shove you—hard. The force sent you stumbling back, and you hit the ground with a painful thud, the breath knocked out of you. Your ex marched inside, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.
“Get out!” you shouted, your voice shaking more than you’d like.
The commotion brought Jaheira’s children rushing into the room. Jhessem and Tate were at your side in an instant, their small hands helping you sit up as they looked at you with wide, worried eyes. Fig, ever the fiery little warrior, grabbed her wooden sword and brandished it at your ex, her small frame trembling but determined.
“You leave them alone!” she yelled, her voice high-pitched but fierce.
Your ex laughed, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. But the laughter died when Jord and Rion stepped forward, their presence filling the room with an almost tangible force.
Jord, tall and broad-shouldered, the half-orc planted himself between the children and your ex.
“You’ve got two seconds to get out of this house,” he said, his voice low and rumbling with warning.
Rion, her sharp features twisted into a glare that could cut stone, pointed a finger at your ex.
“You do not belong here,” she said, her tone icy. “Leave before I make you.”
Despite the bravery of Jaheira’s children, you quickly pushed yourself to your feet, positioning yourself between them and your ex.
“This isn’t their fight,” you said firmly, your voice stronger now as you faced your abuser. “Leave them out of this. Leave us alone.”
Your ex sneered, taking a step toward you, but before they could say another word, the sound of measured, deliberate footsteps echoed from the staircase. Everyone turned as Jaheira descended, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
She took in the scene at a glance—the children bristling with protective anger, you standing tense and pale, and your ex, whose presence tainted the very air. Her expression darkened like a storm cloud.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
Your ex, ever the fool, sneered. “Just having a little chat.”
Jaheira’s gaze flicked to you. “Are they threatening you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.
Before you could answer, your ex made the mistake of laughing. “This is none of your business, old woman.”
Jaheira didn’t respond with words. Instead, she raised a hand, her fingers curling in a subtle motion. Thorned vines erupted from the floor, twisting and writhing like living snakes. They wrapped around your ex with terrifying speed, pinning their arms to their sides and tightening until they yelped in pain.
“Get them out of here,” Jaheira commanded, her voice like steel.
The vines obeyed, dragging your ex toward the door. They thrashed and cursed, but the thorns only dug in deeper. With a final, satisfying motion, the vines flung them out into the street. The door slammed shut behind them, and the vines retracted as if they had never been.
Jaheira turned to you, her eyes softening. You immediately started to apologize, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “Jaheira, I’m so sorry—I never thought they’d come here. I never wanted to put you or your children in danger—”
“Stop being ridiculous,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. She stepped closer, her hands cupping your face as she looked you over. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I’m okay.”
“Good,” she said, her hands dropping to your shoulders. “You’ve been through enough tonight. Rest now.”
“I’ll make some tea,” Jord said, already heading toward the kitchen with calm efficiency.
Fig tugged at your sleeve, her wooden sword still clutched in her hand. “We’ll always help you,” she said, her voice small but fierce.
You managed a smile, ruffling her hair. “Thank you, Fig.”
Jaheira wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the sitting area.
“You’re safe here,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “No one—no one—will ever hurt you again.”
As you sank into the cushions, the tension slowly leaving your body, you felt the warmth of Jaheira’s family around you. They had rallied to protect you without hesitation, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe.
Gale:
The cozy, labyrinthine aisles of Sorcerous Sundries stretched out around you, their shelves laden with ancient tomes and scrolls that hummed with latent magic. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air, grounding and soothing. You and Gale had been immersed in your own quiet exploration, each lost in the treasure trove of knowledge. Every so often, you’d exchange a snippet of discovery—a passage here, a glyph there—but for the most part, it was a shared silence, warm and comfortable.
As your fingers trailed over the spine of a particularly aged tome, its title caught your eye: The Heart of Aetherial Bonds. Intrigued, you flipped it open and found a passage that immediately reminded you of Gale. The words were poetic, a reflection on the ties between love and magic, the way one could amplify the other. A small smile tugged at your lips. He would love this.
“Gale,” you called softly, tucking the book under your arm as you began to weave through the aisles, searching for him.
Your steps were light as you rounded a corner, spotting a familiar silhouette a few shelves away.
“There you are,” you began, but as the figure turned, the words died in your throat.
It wasn’t Gale.
Your blood ran cold as you recognized them—your ex. The person who had haunted your past, whose shadow you had thought you’d escaped. Their eyes lit up with a twisted glee, and before you could move, they stepped forward and grabbed your arm in an iron grip.
“I can’t believe it,” they said, their voice dripping with possessive satisfaction. “I’ve been searching for you, and here you are.”
“Let go of me,” you said firmly, trying to pull away. Their grip only tightened, the familiar pain radiating up your arm.
“You’re coming home,” they hissed, their tone leaving no room for argument.
Your heart pounded as you pushed against their hold, your voice shaking. “You’re hurting me—let go.”
But just as before, they didn’t listen. Their other hand reached to grip your shoulder, and for a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm you.
Then, the air shifted. A crackling sound filled the room, sharp and electric, like the air before a storm. A chill ran down your spine as the oppressive grip on your arm faltered. Both you and your ex turned toward the source of the energy.
Gale stood at the end of the aisle, his form illuminated by a pulsing, arcane light. His expression was unlike anything you had seen before—fierce, unyielding, his eyes glowing with a raw, dangerous power. Magic swirled around him, forming tendrils of energy that snapped and sparked against the air.
“Release them,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl.
Your ex hesitated, their bravado wavering as the sheer intensity of Gale’s presence bore down on them.
“This isn’t your business, mage” they spat, but their voice lacked conviction.
“Oh, but it is,” Gale said, his hands lifting as the magic in the air intensified. “You’ve made it so.”
Before another word could be uttered, a blinding flash of energy erupted from Gale’s outstretched palms. The searing light enveloped your ex, their scream cut short as their form disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing behind but a faint, acrid scent and a smudge of dust on the floor. The magic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the air still and silent.
Gale was at your side in an instant, his hands gently cradling your face as he looked you over.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice soft now, filled with worry.
You shook your head, tears welling up as the adrenaline drained from your body.
“I—I’m okay,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”
He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the weight of what had just happened settled over you. The tension in your body melted as you buried your face in his chest, the faint scent of his robes and the comforting hum of his magic grounding you. Your shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped, the fear and relief spilling out all at once.
“It’s over,” Gale murmured, his hand gently stroking your back. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
You clung to him, the sound of his heartbeat steady and calming against your ear. After a while, your tears slowed, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was a mixture of concern and quiet anger, his protective instincts still on high alert.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere.
He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out.”
Astarion:
The lively hum of the tavern wrapped around you like a familiar cloak, its warmth and noise a welcome respite from the chaos of adventuring. You sat at a corner table with Astarion, his sharp wit and flair for drama turning a mundane evening into something delightfully entertaining. Together, you exchanged hushed gossip about the other patrons—their fashion choices, their whispered secrets—and laughed at his outrageous commentary.
“Oh, look at him,” Astarion murmured, tilting his head toward a burly man near the bar, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’d wager he’s had one too many pies—and just one too many wives, judging by that tan line on his ring finger.”
You snorted into your drink, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And yet, you adore me,” he said with a playful smirk. He lifted your glass with a flourish. “Speaking of adoration, I’ll be a dear and fetch you a refill. Don’t miss me too much.”
You grinned, watching as Astarion sashayed toward the bar, his charm radiating even in the simplest of tasks. Leaning back, you took a moment to enjoy the bustling atmosphere, but your peace shattered as a shadow fell over your table.
Your stomach churned as you turned to see your ex standing there, their presence as unwelcome as a dagger in the back. Without waiting for an invitation, they slid into Astarion’s vacated seat, their grin sending a chill down your spine.
“Well, well,” they said, leaning closer. “Fancy seeing you here.”
You stiffened, your pulse quickening. “Leave,” you said coldly, standing abruptly. “This isn’t the place, and I have nothing to say to you.”
But as you turned to leave, their hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back with a cruel force. A sharp yelp escaped your lips as pain flared along your scalp.
“You think you can just walk away from me?” they snarled, their grip tightening. You tried to swing at them, but panic muddled your movements, and they easily avoided your weak attempts to break free. The room seemed to close in, the once-lively chatter of the tavern fading into a distant hum as fear took hold.
And then, just as suddenly, the pressure on your scalp vanished. You staggered forward, catching yourself on the edge of the table, and turned to see your ex frozen in place. A knife glinted at their throat, a thin line of blood already welling against the blade’s edge. Behind them stood Astarion, his expression icy and predatory.
“I’ve been dying for a fresh kill tonight,” Astarion purred, his voice dangerously low. “And it seems you’ve volunteered. How considerate.”
Your ex’s bravado crumbled as they began to stammer, their hands raised in shaky surrender. Astarion’s grip on the knife didn’t waver, his sharp eyes flicking to you.
“Darling,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “this one’s causing you trouble, isn’t he?”
You met his gaze, your scalp still throbbing but your heart swelling with gratitude. Nodding slowly, you gave him permission with a single, deliberate motion of your head.
Astarion’s smile widened, and he dragged your ex out of the tavern with an almost casual ease, ignoring their sputtered protests. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the danger in his stride. You stayed behind, nursing your scalp and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. The minutes felt like hours, but eventually, Astarion returned, brushing off his hands as though he’d simply taken out the trash.
“All taken care of,” he said, his tone light as he reached for you, cupping your face gently. “Let me see—did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I—I could have handled it.”
Astarion raised an elegant eyebrow, his hand trailing down to rest on your shoulder.
“Oh, please, my love,” he said with mock exasperation. “You’re many things, but you’re not a liar. Let me have this one.”
You sighed, relenting. “Thank you, Astarion.”
He smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re welcome, darling. But seriously, are you okay? That brute—”
You interrupted him with a nod, placing a hand over his. “I am now. Because I’m with you.”
His expression softened, the predatory edge replaced by something tender.
“Always,” he murmured, his voice a promise. With a protective arm around your waist, he led you out of the tavern, away from the echoes of the past and into the safe haven of his presence.
Wyll:
The ballroom of the Ulder Ravengard's estate was a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Noblemen and women in resplendent attire swayed to the music of a skilled orchestra, their laughter mingling with the hum of conversation. You and Wyll had been thoroughly enjoying yourselves, weaving through the room, gossiping about fashion choices and laughing at poorly-hidden flirtations among the elite.
Wyll, as always, moved with an effortless charm that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He introduced you to old friends, clinking glasses with ease, his laugh rich and genuine. His warmth was contagious, and you found yourself at ease in a social world that might have otherwise intimidated you. But when Wyll excused himself to chat with a group of friends near the wine table, you waved him off with a smile, happy to people-watch for a while.
A light tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. A hand reached out, beckoning you to the dance floor. You assumed it was a friend or an acquaintance and allowed yourself to be led. But as you turned, your stomach plummeted. Your blood ran cold.
It was them.
Your abusive ex stood before you, their grin as sharp and cruel as you remembered. It was a grin that promised pain masked under a veneer of charm. You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but their grip only tightened, their fingers digging into your wrist.
“Don’t look so surprised,” they said smoothly, their voice low and venomous. “You didn’t think you could escape me forever, did you?”
“This isn’t the time or place,” you hissed, keeping your voice quiet to avoid drawing attention. “Let me go.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” they replied, their grip tightening further as they began to lead you into a slow, swaying dance. Their tone was soft, deceptively sweet, but their eyes glinted with malice. “You owe me this much, at least. Don’t make a scene. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your fancy boyfriend or his oh-so-important father, would you?”
Your heart raced as they leaned in closer, their breath hot against your ear.
“You think you’ve moved on, don’t you? That you can just walk away from what we had? You’re mine, and you always will be.” You tried to twist out of their grip, panic rising in your chest.
“Let go of me,” you spat, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.
Their smile only widened. “Oh I don’t think so,” they said, their voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to regret leaving me.”
You braced yourself, half-expecting them to lash out. Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for a blow that never came. Instead, a loud, sickening crack echoed through the ballroom, followed by gasps from nearby guests.
Opening your eyes, you saw your ex sprawled on the polished floor, clutching their face. Blood gushed from their nose, staining their pristine clothing. Standing over them, his posture rigid with fury, was Wyll. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a simmering rage that made the air around him feel electric.
“Touch them again,” Wyll growled, his voice low and deadly, “and a broken nose will be the least of your worries.”
Your ex scrambled backward on the floor, their bravado shattered as they stared up at Wyll in terror. Before they could say anything, a pair of Flaming Fist guards appeared, having been alerted by the commotion. Wyll waved them over, his eyes never leaving your ex.
“Take them,” Wyll ordered, his voice firm. “They’re disturbing the peace.”
The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed your ex by the arms and hauled them to their feet, ignoring their sputtering protests and threats. As they dragged your ex away, Wyll finally turned to you, his expression softening in an instant.
“Are you alright, love?” he asked gently, stepping closer to cup your face in his hands. His warm brown eyes scanned you for any sign of injury.
“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Wyll, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”
“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize. This isn’t on you.”
The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, brought tears to your eyes. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he whispered soothing words into your ear. The rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of his presence.
When you finally pulled back, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
You nodded, your breath evening out as the panic subsided. “Thank you, Wyll.”
He kissed your forehead tenderly before taking your hand in his.
“Come, my love,” he said, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “Let’s get you a fresh drink. We’ve both earned it tonight.”
And with that, he led you away from the gawking crowd, his protective arm wrapped securely around you, a silent promise that no harm would come to you as long as he was by your side.
Halsin:
The forest was tranquil, the golden light of the afternoon filtering through the dense canopy of leaves. You moved between patches of wildflowers, humming a tune as you gathered handfuls of blooms for the orphans back at the grove. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and moss, and for a time, you felt entirely at peace.
Your basket was nearly full when a faint rustling behind you caught your attention. You paused, glancing over your shoulder, but the forest appeared empty. Shrugging it off as a rabbit or some other harmless creature, you bent down to pluck a cluster of bright yellow flowers. You didn’t notice the shaggy, wiry wolf stalking closer, its pale eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.
Suddenly, the wolf sprang from the underbrush, a blur of fur and teeth. You gasped as it collided with you, the force of the pounce knocking you to the ground. Its heavy paws pinned you to the forest floor, the breath driven from your lungs as you struggled beneath its weight.
Before you could scream, the wolf began to shift. Fur melted into skin, limbs elongated, and in moments, you were staring into the face of your abusive ex. The recognition hit you like a blow to the chest, your blood running cold.
“You,” you breathed, horrified, and immediately began to struggle.
They leaned closer, their wild eyes gleaming with an unnerving fervor.
“Did you miss me, darling?” they crooned, their voice dripping with mock affection. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t let you go, not like that.”
“Get off me!” you snapped, shoving at their chest with all your strength. Your heart pounded as you tried to call for help, but their hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.
“Shh,” they whispered, their grin twisting into something darker. “Don’t make this difficult. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
Panic surged through you, and you did the only thing you could think of—you bit down hard on the palm of their hand. They hissed in pain but didn’t flinch away, instead smirking as if they found your resistance amusing.
“Still feisty,” they murmured, their tone infuriatingly condescending. “I’ve always loved that about—”
Their words were cut off by a deafening roar, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the forest. A massive brown bear charged out of the trees, barreling into your ex with bone-crushing force. The impact sent them flying, their body slamming into the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.
The bear was relentless. Your ex shifted back into their wolf form, snarling as they tried to defend themselves, but they were no match for the sheer ferocity of Halsin. His claws tore through fur and flesh with savage precision, his roar echoing through the woods as he drove your ex deeper into retreat. When the wolf finally lay broken and bloodied, it whimpered and slunk away, disappearing into the underbrush.
Halsin remained in bear form for a moment longer, his massive chest heaving as he watched the wolf flee. Only when he was certain the threat was gone did he shift back, his towering frame immediately rushing to your side.
“You’re hurt,” he said urgently, dropping to his knees and cradling your face in his large hands. His amber eyes scanned you for injuries, his expression a mixture of worry and fury. “What did they do to you?”
“I’m okay,” you said, your voice trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. “I’m just… shaken up.”
His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His embrace was almost crushing, but you didn’t mind—you needed the grounding warmth of his presence as much as he needed the reassurance that you were safe. You buried your face against his chest, clinging to him as your body trembled.
“I should have been here sooner,” Halsin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. “I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”
You rested your head against his chest, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe your frayed nerves. “You were here when I needed you,” you reassured him. “That’s all that matters.”
Halsin pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. He didn’t let go, and you didn’t ask him to. In that moment, being in his arms was the safest place in the world.
[If you or anyone that you know of has experienced behaviors like this please do not hesitate to contact your local authority]
oof that was a bit of a heavy one but i hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox
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