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lunarubra · 2 days

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Sooo... I wanted to wait to post it next week, but I feel it's going to be even crazier and busier at work in the coming days. As I mentioned in a previous post, the next few months are going to be really hectic for me, so updates could be even more delayed. But I am not abandoning my babies, don't worry. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it. If you can, leave a comment letting me know what you think. It's the first time I've written smut for a straight couple, so I am a little worried of how this is gonna feel. Thanks a ton to @cillmequick and @emotionalcadaver for beta-reading this chapter and being the best mutuals <3

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: The morning after, with a surprise visit, and maybe finally, those two idiots are going to talk about what they are feeling. It took them only 25k+ words, sooo. Yeah, I'm aware that as the writer, I should be in control of what they do, but spoiler alert: I am not. They are in control.

Warning: English not my First Language, Mention of Panic Attack, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Star Wars Spoilers.

Words: 5439

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Part 7 - Swell of Renewal

The first light of dawn gently illuminated Cillian's eyes, rousing him from sleep. Reluctant to open them fully, he savoured the comforting sensation of that fleeting moment between slumber and wakefulness. Gradually, he became aware of the sensations enveloping him. He was laying on his side, with a warm body pressed against his chest, nestled between him and the couch's backrest. His face was buried in soft hair that carried the scent of sea and spices. Before fully registering his surroundings, he snuggled closer, relishing the embrace.

A sudden noise from the front door jolted Cillian awake, causing him to open his eyes and discover Jiyan nestled against his chest. It took a moment for him to recall why he was on the couch and why Jiyan was there beside him. He admired her peaceful form for a few seconds, noting the deepness of her sleep, likely a result of the exhaustion from the previous night. Another knock echoed at the front door, diverting Cillian's attention from the woman beside him, while she remained completely oblivious to the noises, undisturbed and lost in her tranquil slumber.

With gentle care, Cillian untangled himself from their embrace, draping a blanket over Jiyan as he had done the night before, before falling asleep. Since her panic attack and her subsequent openness about what had transpired, neither had questioned the shift in their relationship—they naturally gravitated towards holding and comforting each other. Falling asleep together seemed like the right next step after the emotionally draining evening they had experienced; it was a simple and comforting way to support each other. Even considering leaving Jiyan alone after such a night was unimaginable to him.

Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, he shuffled to the door, muttering under his breath about whoever had the audacity to disturb so early in the morning.

Peering through the door's peephole, he immediately recognized his sister's figure, and a shock of cold realisation shot through him, fully waking him up. Damn, he had completely forgotten about their plans for this morning.

As he opened the door, attempting to offer an apology, his sister launched into a scolding tirade, oblivious to his efforts to quiet her down. The living room wasn’t far, and even though Jiyan seemed to be a deep sleeper, he doubted she would stay asleep for long with his sister's loud reprimands.

"You were still asleep?! Cillian, I told you we needed to buy Sile’s present this morning. With me covering for a colleague this week, I'm swamped, and we agreed to do it today!"

"Orla, morning… I know, I'm sorry, very. I'll find Sile's present on my own later, just please lower your voice," Cillian pleaded.

"Lower my voice?! This is the third time you've postponed it. Her birthday is next week! You were busy with work the past few weeks, but now what? You just forgot? And why do you look so tired? Were you out yesterday night—" Orla paused, her gaze shifting past him.

Turning around, Cillian saw Jiyan standing there, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly too big for her, giving his sister ammo about a crazy night spent the night before, where she spent the night here and now she was wearing his clothes.

Jiyan appeared still a bit sleepy and somewhat taken aback to find someone else in the house. "Um, hi, sorry, I heard voices and—" Jiyan trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a hint of concern about the situation she had walked into.

"Really, Cilian? Really?" Orla interrupted, looking annoyed with her brother.

"Orla, it's not..." Cilian began, then he shook his head, hoping to dispel any misunderstanding that he had spent the night drinking and picking up random women at the pub.

He turned to Jiyan, hoping to clarify everything; this was not the morning he had imagined.

"Jiyan, this is my sister, Orla. I forgot we had to buy a present for our youngest sister this morning, and she's giving me an earful. Orla, this is Jiyan, my... This is Jiyan," he concluded a bit awkwardly, turning back to his sister.

"Jiyan?" Orla repeated, making the connection, and sounding placated for the moment, with a hint of sisterly curiosity. "Oh... I'm sorry, I must seem like a crazy sister, but this one," she gestured towards Cillian, "is the most unorganised person I've ever met. I'm Orla, nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand to Jiyan.

"Nice to meet you too," Jiyan replied, still feeling a bit uncertain about the situation. "I can go if you need to go out, it's really no problem-"

"No!" Cilian exclaimed a bit too forcefully, cutting her off before his sister could intervene and convince Jiyan to leave. "Orla was just leaving. I'll buy something later this week, and everything will be alright, right Orla?" he asked, looking at his sister.

Orla glanced between them a couple of times, as if watching a ping pong match, before finally settling her gaze on her brother's determined expression, realising there was no way she could win this battle and following their planned morning.

"Sure," she confirmed, though with a hint of warning. "But if you forget like Mum's birthday last year-"

"It was two years ago!" he defended himself.

"I don't care," she told him firmly. "I have to go now. Jiyan, it was a pleasure to finally put a face to your name. Cillian couldn’t stop talking about you during Paddy's -"

"Yes!" Cillian said, raising his voice, cutting off his sister to comment further. "Orla, I think it’s time. You really should go," he interjected, gently nudging his sister towards the door and subtly hinting for her to leave, hoping to salvage some of the dignity he had left.

His sister finally composed herself and exited, bidding her goodbyes to Jiyan, but not without one last firm reminder to her brother.

After closing the door behind his departing sister and exhaling a held breath, Cillian turned back to Jiyan, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My sister can be a bit... persistent. I completely forgot that we had to meet this morning."

Jiyan glanced at the floor, uncertainty clouding her expression. After all that had been said the previous night, she was still shocked by what had transpired and perhaps a little ashamed of her own reactions. "I can really go, if you-"

"I don’t want you to go," he said, cutting her off.

They stood in the hallway entrance, bathed in natural sunlight from the living room, casting a deep ambiance around them. As he looked at Jiyan, he soon forgot about his sister's impromptu visit. The tension he had felt multiple times in the past months was coming alive that morning, making his hair on both his arms feel energised, as if pure electric energy was coursing through him.

"Cillian… I…" Jiyan started to say.

"Can I say something?" he interjected, his voice trembling a little with emotion, starting to feel his heart beating faster. "I know it's only been a couple of months since we met, but the more time I spend with you, Jiyan, the more connected I feel. It's like I've known you for decades, like I can understand what you're feeling and thinking.

He paused briefly before continuing, his words pouring out in a rush. "Yesterday night... Yesterday night, it was draining and exhausting for you, and I understand if you feel like you've exposed yourself to more hurt, or if you think you've shown a vulnerable side of yourself. But I see you, Jiyan. I think I really see someone for the first time, and what I see is beautiful. You have nothing to apologise for or feel ashamed of that happened yesterday. Nothing."

For a long moment, she just looked at him. Looked at that sensitive, generous, humble, handsome man who had offered refuge to her last night, after one of the worst panic attacks she had ever experienced. Who has listened and supported her, making her feel for the first time not alone in what she was going through. She could see in him someone with whom she didn’t have to hide - not her feelings, not her emotions, not her past or insecurities.

"I think... I think I also see you," she said, walking closer to him until their chests were almost touching, locking her gaze with his deep blue eyes that reminded her so much of the sea.

As her heartbeat quickened, but not like the night before, she didn't feel panic this time; she felt alive, a tingling sensation coursing through every part of her body.

Cillian didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently cupped her face with one hand, his eyes speaking volumes, like she could read the myriad shades of the ocean within them. His breathing changed too, influenced by their proximity and her presence.

She wasn't sure who moved first or who initiated the first contact. All she knew was that the first touch felt like finally coming home again. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, craving to deepen the connection and feel more of him. Their initial tentative kiss quickly turned passionate, almost desperate, as if they feared the other would vanish in the next moment.

His hands found their place on her waist, slipping under her hoodie and eliciting a groan from deep within his chest as he felt her warm skin, his thumbs tracing circles on her taut abdomen.

She lightly nibbled on his lower lip, drawing another deep groan from him, before resting her forehead against his, breathing him in, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"Ok, wow," she said, opening her eyes again and gazing into his.

"Yeah," he agreed, his arms holding her close to him, not wanting to let her go. She held his cheek, breathing him in, closing her eyes and relaxing into their embrace. If their first kiss had quickly turned passionate, the second time their lips met, she wanted to convey all the different feelings she had, feeling connected to him, letting herself go, and trusting him to accept her.

She let out a high-pitched moan when he responded, exploring her mouth with his tongue, wanting her to feel as much as he was feeling in that moment, wanting to deepen it and at the same time just enjoy their exchange that made him feel like he was walking on the moon.

She also wanted to feel more of him, holding one of her hands on his heart, feeling his chest expand and his heart beating frantically. She then started kissing his jaw and snuggled into his neck, softly biting the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Jiyan," he warned, closing his eyes to catch his breath again and gain some sort of control over his body.

She made an innocuous sound, then repeated her action, eliciting another deep groan from him. He moved his arm from under the hoodie she was wearing to cup her cheeks.

"You are a tease," he said softly, planting a soft peck on her lips again.

“Who says I am teasing?” she retorted, joy bubbling up from her chest as her hands ran through his hair.

“Come on, you need some food in you after yesterday, before we do anything that requires more effort.”

“Ah, so it’s an effort for you, Murphy?” she teased him, “Didn’t think you were this old,” she said, sliding her fingers into his as she followed him to the kitchen, settling on one of the kitchen stools.

He ignored her last comment with a smile, opening the fridge and inspecting its sad remains.

“I have some toast, cheese, and eggs, but I know you don’t eat those. There’s a lemon and a very questionable package of mushrooms.”

"Urgh," she made a disappointed moan.

“I know, sorry. I just got back yesterday and haven’t had a chance to go to the big shop yet.”

“Do you have some canned chickpeas? Or canned beans?” she asked.

“Maybe, I can check the pantry.”

After she gathered some canned chickpeas and quickly made some hummus to eat with toast, he prepared some scrambled eggs with toast and cheese.

“I should really bring you a package of real tea here and teach you how to make chai,” she said as they sat facing each other, their knees touching, and his left hand resting on her thigh. Since the night before, where he had held and comforted her, it was like both of them couldn't stop touching each other, almost like they always needed some kind of physical connection.

“Please feel free to bring as much chai as you want and teach me that wizardry that you Kurds call tea. You knew I would become a complete addict to that.”

“Yup, that's our evil plan for Kurdistan liberation, making white people fall in love with our chai so they would finally stop persecuting us.”

“See, I always knew you had a second motive,” he joked.

After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"I know you said you didn’t want me to apologise, so I won’t," she said, resting her hand over his on her leg. "But thank you for taking care of me yesterday, for your patience, and for listening to me. I don’t think I've ever told anyone all of that before."

"I will always want to listen to you and be there for you, I think," he said sincerely. "I know we both said we weren’t looking for something beyond friendship, Jiyan, but I don’t think..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "During the past few weeks, while I was working in Galway, I tried to detach myself from you and think about it objectively. I wanted to see if it was just like my other past relationships, where I could lose myself in work and disappear. And I could, partly. I think acting will always be liberating for me because I can stop being myself for some time. But when I stopped and was back to being Cillian, I wanted to share it all with you. I’m not sure how it will all go, but I want to try to have this deep connection that I feel with you, Jiyan. Because for the first time, I feel I can be more than just a good actor, a decent brother, or someone who makes my family proud."

She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, just staring at their interlined fingers, playing with them.

"During these weeks, when you weren’t here, I also had time to think. I think that’s also why yesterday I had that reaction. Newroz was the first time where I talked again about Samyah, or I felt she was there, back with me, celebrating. It’s like I pushed all away and now I am feeling all of it together. When you were away, I understood how much more difficult it was, feeling all of that without you… here. I am also not sure how it will be, I am not sure how much I am able to give to you right now. You saw yesterday how easily I can break down…” she said, taking a breath and looking back at him. “But I also would love to know what it really feels like, to share all of this with you."

“You are not the only one that is not sure how much I am able to give. Sometimes when I am so deep into my work, I feel like a shadow of myself. Even if I am there, the people around me feel like I am a ghost of the man I am, and maybe the worst is that I love losing myself so deep into a role. It’s the best feeling, even if I feel like shit at the end of the process,” he finished, trying to joke about it, intertwining his fingers with hers, wanting to feel her closer.

“What a pair we make, eh?” she smiled.

He chuckled at that, finishing his last bite of eggs. “Do you have plans today?” he asked, hoping to not get separated too soon.

“I don’t think I want to do anything. Every time I have one of those breakdowns, I feel exhausted the next couple of days. I just want to lay down and maybe watch something.”

“One of those?” he asked worriedly.

“They started a couple of months after Samyah’s passing. Moving here helped. I just had something similar the day I came back from the hospital, after what happened at the pub.”

He stroked her arm gently, not knowing how to help or what he could say. She was confronting her demons with an acceptance that he did not possess, almost like it was natural that things like this were happening and after those few days life would go on, with Jiyan being back to her solar and sassy self. On one side, he was slightly feeling frustrated about her laid-back attitude; he knew that he would not have her grace to behave like that if something similar happened to him. On the other hand, he was really amazed by the woman in front of him, by her resilience and her strength.

“If you don’t want to be on your own, but if you want some company, we can go back on the sofa, choose some comfort movies, and just relax. Later we can order something if we feel hungry.”

“You sure you are okay about spending the day watching movies with me?”

“It would be just grant, Jiyan,” he said, grinning, getting up from the kitchen island and gathering their plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“Are we allowed to snack during these movies?” she asked hopefully, as if they hadn't just finished breakfast.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked back.

“Popcorn?” she asked eagerly.

“I'll put them in the microwave. Go check if you can find some movies,” he suggested.

“Do you have Star Wars?” she called from the living room.

“Yup, check the shelves on the left,” he said loudly back, just after putting two bowls of popcorn in the microwave and looking for some jalapenos. Then he paused for a moment, thinking about what George Lucas might say, knowing stories about his character, knowing they were using his movies as comfort just after a panic attack. Well, if it worked for her, he would never say no to a Star Wars marathon.

It took him a couple of minutes to return to the living room, with Jiyan seated comfortably on one side of the sofa, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

He passed her a bowl of popcorn as she pressed play, and “A New Hope” started. Sitting close to her, he started to enjoy the famous first scene of the saga, starting to understand why she found it comforting; it felt like being hugged by an old dear friend.

While Luke met Obi-Wan, Jiyan finished her bowl of popcorn, putting it on the floor. For a tiny person, she could pack away quite a bit of food. As she leaned back, before he could stop her, she took some popcorn from his still full bowl and then reacted with a shriek.

“What’s that?!”

“Popcorn,” he said back, ignoring her shock, hiding the bowl on his side of the couch, the furthest from Jiyan, worried what could happen to his guilty food treat. Hoping to refocus on the movie and avoid a topic that almost every friend or member of his family teased him for.

“No it’s not! Popcorn is crispy, salty, and addictive. What the fuck is that? It’s all soggy,” she whined, complaining.

He avoided her question until she started to tickle him on his side, making him squirm away.

“Jiyan!” he said, slightly annoyed, putting his bowl on the floor too, trying to avoid her tickling attack by grabbing both her wrists. As she tried to struggle away, Cillian pulled back, making her fall onto his chest, and him laying down on the couch.

“Are you finished?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You are ticklish,” she answered, avoiding the question with a devious smile, like a cat that ate the canary.

“No,” he tried saying, keeping his face as serious as he could, but her smile only grew wider.

“You are,” she teased.

“Jiyan…” he warned.

“Tickling you is less than a deserved punishment for what you have done to the popcorn,” she defended.

“It’s my bowl,” he said exasperatedly.

“I don’t think even serial killers would dare to do whatever you have done to popcorn. Not even terrorists. Maybe cops, you would expect that from cops, or fascists…”

He interrupted her with a kiss, freeing one of her wrists and cupping her face. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice lowering a tone, smiling amusedly at her.

“You’re not gonna distract me from your crimes, Murphy,” she said, pouting, as he kissed back her pout.

“No?” he asked, this time smirking.

“You cannot bribe me, I’m incorruptible,” she said seriously, as she settled more comfortably into his embrace, starting to run her fingers through his hair. She loved how soft his hair was; it was so comforting.

“Sure, love,” he teased her, starting to kiss her jawline till he found the spot just under her lobe, sucking it and getting a moan from her that made his insides boil, feeling his pants getting tight.

He caressed her throat with his nose, continuing his exploration and being surrounded by her perfume. He could smell some of his body wash and another smell that he could only describe as Jiyan, it reminded him of the spices of chai and the salty air of the sea. He breathed deeply, feeling all his senses wake up and had to control himself, wanting to just turn around with her under him and kiss every centimetre of free skin possible.

Jiyan, who was starting to feel all putty in his hands, tried to get some sort of control back by grabbing his hair slightly to capture his lips, with her free hand sneaking under his t-shirt wanting to also feel his skin. She was welcomed with his smooth skin and the lines of his muscles clenching as she caressed them, gaining a deep groan vibrating from his chest that she swallowed before biting his lower lip.

He also slid his hand under his hoodie she was wearing, caressing her sides as his brain went blank when he noticed just now the absence of a t-shirt or the feel of a bra.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath laboured, as his hands were just under her breasts, wanting nothing more than to feel their weight. She arched herself into his hands, like a luxurious cat, nodding her head before brushing kisses along his neck.

He caressed slowly the side of her chest, consciously avoiding the most erogenous zones, making her press into his hands even more, wanting to guide him silently where she wanted him to be touched. He smirked at her attempt, running his thumbs close to where she needed them the most, never really touching them, feeling her trembling with desires but still teasing her. She was so responsive.

“Cillian…” she whined in his neck, grabbing his hair hard.

“Yes, love?” he asked, amused, enjoying playing this game.

“You know what…” she mumbled.

He chuckled, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jiyan, annoyed and impatient with this man, got up sitting over his lap and in one move got rid of her hoodie, throwing it on the armchair next to them, leaving her topless in front of him. As Cillian's throat got dry and he was distracted by the view in front of him – her taut stomach and her round breasts with small dark areolas that were begging to be kissed – she used his distraction to push his shirt over his head, leaving his chest also bare in front of her.

“Are you done teasing?” she asked, her hands on his chest to balance over him.

“You are beautiful,” he said instead, not sure if he even heard her, his hands back on her, just under her ribs.

She bent and captured his lips, feeling the heat coming from him. His hands started to roam again, one holding her head and the other one cupping one breast, caressing her nipple, making her moan in their kiss. She felt his erection under her and moved her hips, starting a slow rhythm that made them both pant.

They lost themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, lips on lips, and fingers touching any part of skin they could reach.

As she started to rock faster, she started to feel the pressure and the heat inside her growing. When he moved his kisses to her neck and bit her, she moaned loud, feeling the electricity running in her body.

He slid his lips from her neck to the valley between her breasts, catching his breath slightly before he pressed his mouth to her nipples, sucking it slowly, gaining another deep moan from Jiyan. He used his teeth and tongue to explore, switching his attention from one breast to the other and Jiyan felt like her blood was burning, the pressure between her legs increasing.

She stopped her movements, making him look at her confused and worried, asking her if she was alright.

Instead she bent and captured his lips, the kiss became more heated. She then slid her hands in his sweatpants, breaking the kiss and asking silently if it was okay for him. At his eager nod, she got rid of his trousers with his help. As her hand ventured over his boxers, she lightly brushed against his erection, causing him to arch into her touch.

"Who's the tease now?" he rasped, his voice low and growling, as he eyed her with anticipation.

Instead of replying, she reached for him, pulling his underwear down to grasp his member, exploring him for the first time. Her touch was deliberate, moving slowly and firmly, savouring the weight of him and relishing in his laboured breaths and groans. She craved more.

As her thumb traced the pulsing vein on the side of his shaft, feeling his precum, his hands found her ass, gripping it firmly as he surrendered to the sensations she evoked. It didn't take much to push him to the brink.

"I want to feel you," he gasped, seizing her wrist to halt her movements. Looking into his glassy eyes, mirroring her own passion, she nodded.

Sitting up, she took his hand, guiding it to her sweatpants. Together, they shed her clothes, leaving her naked atop him.

"Are you clean?" she inquired, her hand caressing his member with a slow stroke.

"Yeah, are you?" he murmured, his voice dropping. "Do we need a condom?"

"I have an IUD, and I got tested in December when I donated blood on campus," she reassured him.

He nodded, cradling her face to kiss her fiercely once more. As they kissed languidly, catching their breath, her hands trailed down to his chest while his found her hips, aiding her in adjusting their positions.

Guiding him to her entrance, she began to sink onto him slowly, both of them moaning at the initial contact. She exhaled, trying to relax and accept his girth and length.

"Fuck… so tight," he groaned, closing his eyes as he felt her contracting.

Feeling her stop, he opened his eyes back, trying to gather some control and staying as immobile as possible, "Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident as his thumbs circled her hips, offering support.

"Yeah, it's been a while," she whispered, closing her eyes to focus on her gradual movements, starting moving slowly.

Supporting her with one hand, he found her folds with the other, feeling how wet she was and searching for her clit. Slowly, he circled it with his thumb, causing her to close her eyes, arch her back, and moan deeply as she slowly sank down. She let out a deep whine when his entire length rested inside her.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, suppressing his own desires and focusing on her well-being.

"Yeah, it feels good," she said, breathing slowly. "I just need a moment."

She was incredibly tight and warm, enveloping him like a glove. He took a deep breath, restraining himself from moving and allowing her to adjust. He lay back down, enjoying the view of the gorgeous woman in front of him, holding her waist gently, he couldn’t stop touching that soft sunkissed skin.

As she began to feel more comfortable, she squeezed her walls experimentally, feeling him stiffen under her touch.

"Fuck, Jiyan!" he moaned deeply, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on her waist.

With slow movements, she adjusted her hips, searching for a good angle and relishing the sensation of him filling her up. As her movements became smoother, his tip brushed against a soft spot inside her, eliciting a deep moan from her, causing her to arch her back and lose her rhythm.

"Here?" he asked, using his other hand to guide her hips.

"Yes, don't stop," she said, feeling the pleasure intensifying and her walls pulsating.

Time seemed to slow for both of them as they rapidly approached their limits quickly, it had been sometime also for him. Cillian felt her walls spasm around him, signalling her impending release. His thumb went back to circle her clit as her hips stuttered and lost their rhythm. The tension inside him grew like a taut bow ready to be released.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her breathing laboured.

"I am too," he replied, withdrawing his fingers from her folds and gripping her hips tightly. Taking control of the rhythm, he thrust his hips upward, feeling her walls contracting around him. She reached for her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he growled, captivated by the sight before him.

Without warning, he felt her orgasm approaching, the sensations spreading through her body and engulfing her in pleasure, eliciting deep moans. As she tightened around him, pulling him in and causing him to groan loudly. It didn't take long for him to follow suit, his body tensing as his release filled her insides. They both felt her spasms and the aftershocks of their orgasms.

They remained intertwined for several minutes, trying to catch their breath, their sweaty bodies pressed together. Exhausted, Jiyan leaned down while Cillian embraced her, gently caressing her back.

Pressing a tender kiss on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

She murmured a sleepy affirmation, planting kisses between his neck and shoulder.

"Do you want to stay here or go to bed?" he inquired.

"Bed," she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

"Do you need help, love?" he asked, slightly amused.

Instead of answering, she kissed his neck and hugged him tightly, causing him to chuckle.

"Hmm," she mumbled, with a yawn.

Chuckling, he sat up, still inside her, eliciting a soft moan as he withdrew. Wrapping his arms around her, he carried her upstairs, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before gently laying her down on his bed. After quickly cleaning himself in the ensuite and grabbing a cloth for her, he returned to admire her naked form before laying beside her, cleaning up the mess they had made.

"Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes.

He tossed the cloth into the hamper and lay back, embracing her from behind. Pressing a kiss on her neck, he whispered, "You're amazing," as she snuggled into him, emitting a satisfied moan.

"That was a first for a Star Wars marathon," she said softly, her voice already sleepy and relaxed.

"Well, it did bring us comfort," he replied, hugging her tighter.

"Mmmh, I hope all our movie marathons end this way," she murmured, her energy fading.

"If you have enough energy, I can show you the best part later," he teased.

"Mmmh, sleepy," she moaned.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he said, closing his eyes and planting one last kiss on her neck.

"Mmmh mmm," she mumbled, relaxing, as they both fell into a restful sleep.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

#shadows of the sea #jiyan fabris x cillian murphy #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n

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princepiastri · 1 month

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while i'm waiting for the results of my poll - enjoy something i wrote in my sleep the other night

please ignore any spelling and/or grammar mistakes like i said i was asleep

#i kinda hate this #and can't decide if i should carry on with it #it took me 3 days to realise i had this in my notes #and i have absolutely 0 context for you #anyway enjoy a story I may or may not continue #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #mafia!charles leclerc #mafia!charles leclerc x reader

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rafesslxt · 1 month

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Showerhead | mattheo riddle

summary: you thought you were alone in the bathroom when your wild thoughts took over you but you suddenly hear a second voice.. and its not inside your head.

warnings: masturbating for a sec, cursing, filthy DIRTY TALK, fingering, mattheo eating out reader, unprotected p in v, enemyxlover vibe, gryffindor!reader

notes: DAMN I'M BACK! I'm sorry but I had a HUGE writing block. Also: english is not my first language so pls let me know If there'S something I can correct :)

My day was unbelievable fucked. I woke up too late, got detention because i talked to my friends while Snape was teaching us something, i spilled my food over my clothes.. twice.. after that I fell from my broomstick at the quidditch training and now i sat with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the Great Hall eating.

„Yo y/n can I copy your homework later? I got -" Ron startet but i interrupted him "Yeah yeah whatever.. guys I‘m gonna go to bed okay? See you after this." Hermione and me shared a room so I would see her later.

I rushed to our dorm, getting rid of my dirty clothes. God I needed a shower, now. I took my clothes, shower stuff and towels and started to walk towards one of the big bathrooms.

Because I wanted more privacy, I did go to one that not many students know about. Hermione once told me about it as she talked about Hogwarts in first grade.

As I walked inside, I checked If someone‘s here but I was alone. I took off my clothes and stood under one of the showers more in the corner and let the water run down my body. I sighed as I felt it on my skin, finally feeling more relaxed.

My thoughts started drifting after a while as my hands glided over my body. Damn my muscles are really sore. When was even the last time I had sex? I think it was like 3 months ago with a guy from Ravenclaw. He looked promising but merlin was I feeling disappointed after.

I couldn‘t even touch myself cause I was always around people, sharing rooms together and shit.

I bit my lip as I looked at that shower head above me. Nah I couldn‘t.. could I? Did I even have time? I mean I was in here already for like 20 minutes so I had to be in my room before curfew but god damn I was so desperate.

Oh fuck it – what is one more detention, right? I took the shower head, letting my other hand slowling wandering over my nipples. I whimpered slightly at the feeling, realising now how desperate I really was.

I took the shower head and put it where I needed it the most. My thoughts drifted again and I tried to think about someone but no face appeared until - fuck no, I can‘t think about him.. but before I could debate more with myself, his name left my lips.

"Fuck Mattheo.." my lips parted and my breathing got heavier. Merlin was I already about to cum? How pathetic, I didn‘t even touch myself properly but that kind of didn‘t matter as the next words left my mouth. "Shit.. please" i begged into the foggy air around me.

"Damn Princess.." My blood got cold and my body tensed to a point where I couldn‘t move. I swallowed as I opened my eyes and saw Mattheo Riddle standing right in front of me. The one who‘s name I just moaned.

I tried to hide my body behind my hands, a little too late. "Fuck Riddle what the hell are you doing here?!" I asked him angry. Once because I stood there completley naked and he didn‘t even tried not to look and second for my again – non existing orgasm.

He looked shamelessly over my body, scanning every inch of my skin. He had a towel hanging low on his hips, which didnt really helped the state i was in right now.

" I could ask you the same but I think I just heard what you did.." he smirked arrogant and looked at my face. "You know you could have just asked If you wanted my help."

I rolled my eyes at him as I took one of my towels from the side to hide my body but as I did I had to let go which leaded him to look at my breasts. I saw him licking his lips, looking up at my face again as I wrapped the towel around myself.

"Just because your name is Mattheo, doesn‘t mean I was thinking about you."

He grinned again, coming closer to me slowly. "Oh yeah? Then who did you mean?" I tried to think about an different Mattheo but there was no one in this school I knew with that name – besides him.

He just stood one inch away from me now, backing me into the shower again until my back hit the wall.

"Princess.. i know you did think about me, there‘s no shame in telling." I started nibbling on my bottom lip as a signal to being nervous. God he smelled so good and his face looked even more handsome now that the single drops of water fell onto his face from his still wet hair.

"And what If I was? Are you going to tell all your stupid little friends?" He chuckled "No.." his face came even closer now "just let me help you out with that." I swallowed down a clump in my troath as he said that. My pride was way too big for him to just come here and fuck me like that..right?

"Hell no I -" "Why not huh? I saw how desperate your little body looked as you just begged for more.. let me help you with that, I‘m gonna make you cum within the first minutes." Now his arrogant smile was back, his breath hitting my lips now.

"Yeah all of you boys say that, leaving me unsatisfied after." I huffed, looking away from his piercing eyes.

"Let‘s make a deal little one.. I‘m gonna eat you out and If I don‘t make you cum within the, lets say: five minutes? I‘ll leave and never bother you again.."

I looked at his lips while he was talking. They looked so soft and kissable – fuck was I really considering what he said? I mean he‘s a Riddle and a stupid little fucker but maybe that‘s just what I needed right now. Stupid little Fucker named Mattheo Riddle.

"And what If you make me cum?" i looked up at his eyes again. He towered his head over mine grinning, coming down to my ear and whispered "..then you‘re mine for the night." He smiled almost devilish and I know I should‘ve said no but damn 3 months were starting to get the best of me.

"Deal." It felt like as If I just signed up for the devil. His smile grew at my words and he pushed me against the wall this time, unwrapping the towel i just put on.

"Damn your body looks so good, just perfect for me to eat." Shivers went down my spine at his words right towards my - " I hope you know what you just got yourself into." Suddenly he took me by my hips, lifting me up against the wall again as I wrapped my legs around his hips.

"It‘s kind of unfair that you still have your towel on, don‘t you think?“ "Oh don‘t worry princess, it‘s coming off very soon."

He took one hand away from supporting my ass, to my cheek. He looked deep into my eyes, almost staring into my soul. He closed the gap between us, kissing me like no boy ever did before in my whole life. The kiss was passionate, heated and longing. Almost as If we would seperate, we couldn‘t breathe.

I felt the tip of his tounge slide over my bottom lip which made me moan slightly. He smiled against my lips and pressed himself harder against me.

I opened my mouth slowly, which he took as a opportunity to explore my mouth with his tounge fighting over control with mine.

He let go of my lips what almost costed me a whimper but I pressed my lips together. He took me by my hips again, lifting me higher until I sat on his shoulders, my eyes going wide. Damn I don‘t think I need 5 minutes.

"You ready?" he mumbled against my inner tight he started kissing softly with his wet lips. I just let out a deep breathe and nodded, putting my hands on his hair.

He started kissing higher up until his mouth was just an inch away from my pussy. "5 Minutes are alredy starting" I chocked out, but in reality I just wanted him so start.

I could feel him grinning like an little ass but these thoughts were thrown out of the window as his tounge touched my clit.

I held in my breathe for a second as he started to kitten lick my clit and massaging my tights with his hands. I buckled against his face but he was faster and backed away. I let out a desperate whine at the loss of contact.

"Beg me.." he told me looking up at me with his chocolate brown eyes. Shit who was I even to deny that? Now wasn‘t really the moment for too much pride. "Please.." He raised his eyebrows " Please what?" "Please eat me out Mattheo, I need it - please.."

Satisfied with my answer he licked flat over my pussy, focusing on my clit again as he started to suck it. "Oh my-" my lips parted and my hands flew into his hair again, pressing his face deeper between my legs.

"Fuck that feels good" i moaned and arched my back off the wall as I felt something deep down in my stomach. Shit he didn‘t even do much but give my clit some attention - really good attention - and I was already close again.

I felt his hand going under my tight and his thumb being places on my clit. He moved his finger in circular motions, sliding his tounge to by entrance, fucking me with it.

"M-mattheo please!“ shamelessly i bucked my hips and cried out his name.

"You close baby?" he asked, mumbling against my wet skin. I just nodded breathless until I felt a sharp and powerful feeling in my abdomen.

It completely crushed me. Everything around me went black for a few seconds and I couldnt hear anything. I just came so hard on Mattheo‘s tounge that I didn‘t even realise where I was for a short moment.

I looked down on me, looking in Mattheo‘s eyes, already looking at me. "You taste so good baby."

He slowly lets me down again but holds me as we both notice how weak my knees are. "Damn I didnt expect that.." i breathe out and look at his lips, still glistening from my juices.

"I think you lost our deal.." he grinned and startet slowly kissing my neck. I chuckle, nodding just slowly, thinking about how much I actually want him and not caring about the fact that I lost.

"..but you don‘t really seem to care huh." he grins and slowly rubs my back before turning me around so I faced the wall. "Hands on the wall baby." No matter what he said, I always heard him smiling. Smug little ass. "Spread your legs princess, that's it.. wider." My stomach twisted at his vulgar words, never ever did a boy talk to me like that.

I did as he said, spread my legs even wider while my hands touched the cold wall. "Hmm now arch your back for me."

I felt his hands slither around my waist down to my lover stomach. Every touch of his send shivers down my spine. Suddenly, I felt his breath against my ear, his lips kissing the shell of it as he murmurs with a deep voice. "I'm going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head." "Stop teasing me and do it!"

He chuckles darkly and I feel the tips of his fingers wandering slowly over my pussy. "Do you really think you're in a position to give orders?" Goosebumps.

As I didn't answer him he lightly brushed his finger over my clit, making me shiver again, while brushing soft kisses across my back.

"Please." I let out a whimper, arching my back just a little more and pushing my hips into his body. Then, I felt him at my entrance, pressing the tip of his cock against my clit, just where his fingers had been a second ago.

"Beg. Fucking let me hear how much you want this cock." he whispers into my ear, his hot breath hitting my ear. My whole body shudders and I can't help it but do as he tells me to.

"Mattheo please I need you. I need to feel you, I'll do anything." I feel myself almost crying from the frustration and arousal. "Good Girl." he groans before he slowly enters me. Fuck.

"Oh Shit baby, you feel so tight." Mattheo grunted shamelessly as my walls clenched around him. My breathing got heavy and I bite my bottom lip to hide my moans.

"Don't hold back." he commands and just so, I let my lip go and whimper out his name.

"Hmm just like that princess." He pushes further inside of me, groaning at the feeling. I feel so full of him, I can't think straight besides of him and how good he feels.

Abruptly he started moving his hips fast an hard against my ass, leaving my mouth hanging wide open. " Oh fuck, Mattheo!" I cried out at the sensation. His hand started to wander up and down my body, over my back, my stomach, my tits - playing with my nipples.

"What, you want gentle? Wrong fucking address." God where has he been all these months? It feels like he just fills that hole inside of me - literally.

I hear him panting behind me, not slowing down with the movement of his hips. "Shit I would've fucked you way sooner If knew you had such a tight little pussy, just waiting for me to come and fuck it sore."

I hiss as he takes my hair into his fist and yanks my head backwards so It would lay against his shoulder while my back is still arched and he presses me against him. My hands roam over his arm that holds me in the middle of my body and I close my eyes. I'm definitely gonna be sore tomorrow.

I felt him changing the angle of his hips a little and my eyes almost bulged out of my head. "Oh my god!" I almost scream, forgetting that someone could hear us, even tho not many know about this bathroom. "Fuck yes, I feel you clenching around me princess. Does that feel good hm?" he teases and bites my neck gently.

Words coiled inside my throat, coming out as broken sobs, telling him I'm wanting more. "You're still holding back, just let go."

So I screamed his name again, over and over again, until I felt a sharp pang in my stomach. His hand let go of my body, his second hand still in my hair. He grabbed the shower head and turned the pressure higher before he holded it right against my clit.

I was a whimpering and sobbing mess at this point, begging him to let me come. "Look at me. I wanna see you coming around my cock." He tugs at my hair and my eyes roll back to look into his, which gave me the rest I just needed to come.

Looking into his eyes made my walls clench around him again, leaving his mouth hanging wide open. "Shit.." he grunted and closed his eyes as his rhythm became more erratic. Just as I slowly came down from my high, I felt him pulling out of me and coming all over my back, spreading his hot cum.

"Fucking hell.." he breathed out and slowly let go of my hair and hanging the shower head back onto the wall after washing his cum off of my back. I turned around and looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"What? Did I fuck out all your negative energy?" he chuckled, pressing me against him again with one of his arms. I roll my eyes at his comment but still I couldn't hide my smile. "I have something for you.." he said, now he's smiling like a little devil.

I look at him confused which he answers me with his fingers in front of my mouth. I look down at them and gasp as I see his cum on them. "Come on, open up baby.." I didn't knew why but again I did as he said and parted my lips. He pushed his fingers inside my mouth and grins. "Suck them."

I started sucking on his fingers and swirling my tongue around them, tasting his salty cum. His eyes rolled back a little and I saw him shuddering for a moment. "Damn, you wanna suck my cock maybe?"

I did let go of them and chuckled as I pressed myself pass his body to wrap my towel around my wet body. " Maybe next time.."

"Oh so you wanna do this more often, huh?"

Oh and how we both didn't knew at that moment how often actually.

_______

Who wants a part 2? It's here!

Let me know how you liked it!

My Harry Potter Masterlist.

xoxo Sarah <3

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter masterlist #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n

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gimmeurtmi · 4 months

Text

what you want — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, pwp, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, riding, hickies, very slight nipple play (m receiving), just pure filth no plot

inspo: skz talker episode 61, 16:25.

notes: it’s been so long and i’m still shaking off the rust on my writing muscles!! please lmk your thoughts. feedback is v appreciated <3

{ wc: 2389 }

you’ve been waiting for minho to come home all day. you could barely focus on anything since you woke up, a selfie from your boyfriend waiting for you.

‘i’m gonna die pt is gonna kill me’ was attached underneath the selfie he sent you. minho, in a black tank top that was admittedly a size too small for him, sweat and redness coating his skin.

it was cruel of him to send you such a selfie, turning you into a needy mess with something as simple as that. you had to write a paper—and now was not the time for him to be plaguing your thoughts. you managed to write most of it, in between thoughts of his strong arms and sculpted chest. in between thoughts of lining his skin with kisses and hearing his moans.

it was evening now, and minho was due home any minute—your excitement to see him growing to the point you checked your phone three times in four mintues just waiting for his arrival time to show up on your phone.

the sound of keys in the door brought you to your feet, rushing towards your boyfriend.

“hi jagi,” he smiled at you, leaning closer to kiss your cheek sweetly. “how are you?”

“horny,” you blurted out. you quickly gasped, covering your mouth with both your hands. minho raised an eyebrow at you, a one sided smirk sitting proudly on his face.

“i’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “it’s just—well, no never mind! did you eat?”

minho chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him.

“i did. why are you horny?” his hands slipped underneath your shirt, the one you took from his side of the closet, trailing his fingers across your skin.

“your selfie..” you admitted, sheepishly.

“i sent you that in the morning,” he states, “been that way all day?”

“no!” you quickly shake your head. minho pulled you closer, your hands having no choice but to rest on his firm chest. your fingers splayed across his tight shirt, feeling the thick muscles beneath the fabric. you let out softly that, “i wrote my paper.”

“good job,” he smiled at you, kissing your lips softly.

you smile back at him before you let him pull you in for another kiss.

you wrap your hands behind his neck, feeling around his shoulders as you do, and if you’ve moaned just a little at the touch you’ll just blame it on minho’s tongue against yours.

you let him move you around, fingers digging into your waist as you both blindly make your way to the couch. you feel the couch against your legs and minho softly lowers you onto the cushions, kissing around your jaw as he climbs on top of you.

you let him settle between your legs, sucking the skin on your neck while you run your hands up and down his firm back. feeling the way his muscles contract as he leans most of his weight on his arms and not you. with how strong he’s gotten lately you’re sure it’s not even that hard for him now. the thought makes your heart skip a small beat.

it’s when minho rolls his hips against yours, biting on your collarbone softly, that you realise this isn’t what you wanted. this isn’t what you’ve been fantasising about all day.

you push at his shoulders, causing him to look up at you with his big round eyes. they sparkle up at you, like they always do, before a question starts swimming in them.

“this okay?” he asks, bottom lip slightly pouted in confusion. his front teeth are more noticeable that way, when he’s a little confused, and you can’t understand how someone can be so hot and so cute at the same time. it makes you want to devour him.

“it is, min—“

“but,” he concludes from your tone, lifting himself up so your crotches are no longer touching. you can see his arms tensing as he does.

“there was something i wanted to do, if you don’t mind, i know you like taking control so it’s okay if—“ you can’t say more once minho kisses your cheek, ever so softly, and all you can do is sigh at your own rambling.

“what was it you wanted, jagi?” he asks softly, humming as his eyes search yours. a warmth covers your chest you aren’t too sure is appropriate for just how wet you are—but minho has always had that kind of effect on you.

“wanted to ride you, min,” you let out quietly.

he lets out a small chuckle, humming as he nods his head softly. “we can do that.”

“if it’s okay?” you ask, eyes wide and eager.

“i mean if you absolutely insist,” he rolls his eyes, smiling wide at you.

you scoff at him, shaking your head before you watch minho settle himself on the couch, patting his thick thighs in invitation.

you quickly climb onto his lap, settling in as minho slaps your ass lightly.

“i love watching you on top of me, you know,” he smiles, moving your hair behind your ears. he settles his hand on your ass, squeezing lightly, “and i can do this as much as i want.”

“you have a problem,” you giggle at him, rolling your eyes at his undeniable obsession.

“now you tell me all the reasons you love riding me,” he grins, much like a cheshire cat, as he rubs your hip with his other hand.

“well,” you start, running your hands across his chest, “i get to admire your body and all your hard work.” he hums in acceptance. you move your hands to his arms, up and down his biceps before you settle on his shoulders, “i love how strong your shoulders are, how i can put my whole weight on them.”

minho blinks at you a few times, nodding along as he eagerly waits to hear more. the hand once on your hip has now moved to your lower stomach, tracing back and forth over the hem of your pants.

“from this angle your cock reaches so deep inside me, too,” you say lowly, and minho ears turn a deeper shade of red than they were before, “i get to feel you so so deep, min.”

“i love how your tits look when you’re bouncing on top of me,” he says, trailing one finger from the hem of your shorts to your clothed pussy.

“i love when you slap my ass as i’m riding you,” you let out, breathing heavily.

minho laughs, squeezing your ass firmly. “i knew you like it when i touch your ass.”

“i never said i didn’t,” you defend.

“you like it when i touch you here, too?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised as he rubs two fingers over your pussy—finding the exact spot easily. you nod quickly. “should i keep going? or do you need my cock already?”

“need it, min,” you groan, “need you inside me. now.”

after a bit of fumbling around and some uncoordinated kicking you’re both naked, and you quickly climb back into minho’s lap.

now that his shirt is thankfully far far away from him, you take a moment to stop and stare. shamelessly drinking him in. you squeeze his shoulders before trailing down to his arms and then you run your hands over his chest, down his stomach, across the dip from his chest to his waist.

you can feel minho watching you, but you’re far too distracted by the sight of him to feel ashamed. he’s yours, after all, and taking a moment to appreciate what’s yours should be allowed.

however, there’s a want inside you you aren’t able to ignore, and so you lean forward and press slow open mouthed kisses onto his chest, fingers splayed on his waist. you suck on the skin, too taut to move, and bite lightly before you move on to the next bit of skin. kissing everywhere you can reach, taking your time now that minho’s finally here.

you let your hands wander, let yourself feel the warm and soft skin of his stomach, the way it sends shivers down your wrist.

“jagi,” he sighs as you start sucking a few centimetres away from his nipple, “jagiya, let me feel you.”

“i’m here,” you remind him, bringing his hand into your hair. he cups your head, sighing as moved down slightly to suck on a new piece of skin.

“need your pussy, baby, please,” he moans, as you softly rub your hand against his pec, lightly tracing his nipple.

you can’t deny him, and the emptiness inside you is starting to ache, so you quickly grab him by the base as you line him up to your entrance.

you slowly sink down, feeling his cock stretch you out until you’re pressed flush against his thighs. the pair of you moan loudly at the feeling.

“god,” he lets out, hugging you closer to him. minho buries his face in your chest, breathing you in. “you’re so warm.”

“i’m so needy, min,” you chuckle, wrapping an arm around his beautiful back. “i want you so bad.”

minho thrusts upwards at your words, a small squeak like noise escaping you. he repeats his actions, over and over, barely letting himself pull out and focusing only on pushing in deeper.

he’s deep inside you, so deep you can feel a tingling in your neck, and all you can do is moan as minho takes control of the pace.

you can barely feel your thighs but you try as much as you can to meet his thrusts, leaning heavily on his shoulders as you push up and down.

the way his cock stretches you isn’t something you’re used to it, despite the many months you two have been together, and everytime minho fucks you like this you can feel it all the way to your toes.

you aren’t even sure your eyes are open but when they are, all you can see is minho’s sparkling brown eyes—looking so enamoured by you it makes you want to cry.

“min, s-so good, so good like-like this,” you let out in between punctuated breaths.

“giving you what you wanted, yeah?” he groans out, words light and breathless, “riding my cock like you wanted, jagi.”

“you always give me what i want, min,” you try your best to say, “always fuck me so good.”

you squeeze his shoulder tightly, supporting yourself as your thighs start to ache from the repeated bouncing. but the way his cock brushes against your soft spot makes it too hard to stop—the feeling so exhilarating you can only moan each time it happens.

you look down at where your bodies are connected, watching as your wetness glistens on his beautiful thighs.

you bring your hand to his chest, cupping his side as you rub across the few marks you’ve managed to leave behind. you smile softly at them before tracing the natural line between his pec and his stomach—much more prominent now he’s grown more muscles.

“had to mark me up, huh?” minho chuckles as he follows your line of sight.

“you’re mine,” you say before thinking, “wanted to mark what’s mine.”

at that minho picks up his pace as he brings his hand between your bodies, pressing on your clit lightly.

“keep talking like that and i’ll cum inside you, baby,” he moans.

“you’re fucking mine, minho,” you say, kissing him messily, “you’re so beautiful and it’s all mine.”

minho’s fucking you so fast and so hard, you fall forward, burying your face in his neck as you feel his release spilling inside you—minho moaning loudly in your ear. he stops for only a second to catch his breath before rubbing your clit just as fast, encouraging you sweetly as he says, “go on, baby, cum for me.”

your whole body shakes with it and you grab minho’s arms for stability, feeling them flex in your hold from his exertion. then, your vision starts blurring for a moment or two, your orgasm hitting you at full force. it’s sweet and so good with minho still buried inside you, your walls squeezing around his thick cock.

minho groans into your chest, kissing messily against your skin as he lets you ride out your high for a few more minutes.

once you exhale heavily, the fluttering of your walls relaxing, minho looks up at you with a lazy smile.

“you’re incredible,” he decides.

you giggle at him, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “so is your personal trainer.”

minho groans, rolling his eyes before he lets his head rest against the back of the couch. “please don’t take his side. one day he’ll end up killing me and then you’ll regret this.”

“you’re so dramatic, min,” you chuckle at him.

he hums in agreement, his lips a firm line as he nods. “i’m yours, though. you even said so,” he points out, a childish glint in his eyes.

“yes, and i think your cum inside me is further proof,” you scrunch your nose at him. minho groans softly, and you feel his cock bouncing lightly inside you. you can’t help but laugh.

you slowly run your nail across one of the marks you’ve left sitting proudly on his chest, smiling at your little creation.

“should i feed you now or are you gonna stare at my chest some more?” he eventually snaps you out of your minho induced daze.

“can you cook shirtless?” you raise your brows hopefully.

“that’s probably against some health and safety regulation, but if that’s what you want,” he kisses your forehead lightly before tapping your hip in a silent request to get up.

minho quickly grabs something for the mess, cleaning up the couch and your thighs before he gets you a change of clothes. he doesn’t bother wearing a shirt, as per your request, while he finds something quick to cook for you—insisting on feeding you before you get too sleepy.

minho let’s you run your hands all over his chest as he works, attached to him from behind as you kiss his strong back muscles. he doesn’t complain, not at all, and twists his head to meet yours every few minutes—pillowy lips puckered up dramatically in a silent beg for kisses.

you, of course, happily oblige. you’d give minho whatever he wants.

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garoujo · 10 months

Text

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU ; — you can’t help but feel a little upset thinking that your boyfriend has forgotten your anniversary.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, none, fluff! although it gets a tiny bit hawt at the end! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! an anon suggested this drabble idea literally like sometime last year + the new szn finally gave me some motivation to write it! i hope u see this!

3 years.. 3 years and gojo didn’t leave you with so much as a “happy anniversary” as he left this morning. you’d have even taken an extra smack on the ass during your usual morning makeout session, the taste of his two sugar’s too sweet coffee on his tongue as it twists with yours and his hands on your waist.. but that’s it, that’s all???

so now you’re here, angrily stomping back to your shared apartment after the few errands you had to run today because you took the day off to celebrate. but your dumb, stupidly handsome boyfriend doesn’t even know what for as he rambles on the other side of the phone.

“can feel you poutin’, what’s gotten into my sweet girl? hm?” gojo hums like hes thinking about something, his same sickly sweet tone dripping through you like honey despite the way you want to be mad at him right now— you would’ve ignored the call all together, just to be petty if you didn’t know he’d turn up at the door a second later.

“nothing. i’m just almost home that’s all.” you’re lying and you know he can tell, he always could. he could pick up every slight, little change in your attitude like he seen right through you.

“oh yeah? nothing at all on your mind?” gojo drawls again, there’s a teasing lull to his voice and it makes your pout puff out even more before he breathes out a low chuckle and sighs. “and here i thought you were mad at me. you almost made me cry at work— who would take me seriously then, huh?”

“you’re not funny.” you huff out, short and a little clipped as you finally come to a stop infront of your apartment door — fiddling with your keys in your hand while your pout still rests on your features.

“you sure?”

you really can’t be bothered playing gojo’s games right now and as amusing as he seems to find himself, it’s only making you burn hotter — making your stomach twist with the lump in your throat that you’ve been fighting to keep down all day. you don’t want to get upset, but it meant a lot to you.

you just wanted him to maybe put in a little effort on the one day that you guys really get to celebrate eachother.

“positive. so i’m gonna g—“ you can barely finish your own spiralling, upsetting thoughts before your snapped response through your phone fades on your tongue. but suddenly, the tears youd been fighting to hold back all day seem to come so ruthlessly, gathering along your lashes as you gaze onto the ocean of red that greets you as you open the door.

you’re not sure how many bouquets there are waiting for you there. hundreds? thousands? sitting pretty along the floor, decorating the shared space so beautifully that you don’t even realise that you’ve gone quiet. ofcourse gojo would do something like this, and suddenly you feel a little silly for even doubting him.

“ah, fine. i guess i’ll get the guy to come pick all of those back up then, huh, sweet thing?”

but the smooth tone that sounds from your phone speaker sounds a little louder, closer when it’s accompanied by a long arm wrapping around your waist from behind as kisses are pressed up the side of your neck.

“but, you—“ you try but you feel so overwhelmed, so full of love as gojo’s large figure drapes over you from behind. his face is stuffed into the crook of your neck and you can feel the way his crooked smile sits on his features as it presses against your skin. he feels warm, although you’re sure he’s more than smug right now when he pulls away with an exaggerated gasp that cuts off your sentence.

“as if you’re perfect, good looking boyfriend would ever forget. what do you take me for, hm?” you giggle at that despite the way he’s teasing you again, squeezing at your sides until you’re meeting his gaze and you’re sure you must look so in love when you notice the way his features soften slightly.

“happy anniversary, princess.” gojo grins as he leans into kiss you breathless, twisting into your mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and you almost rock back with how dizzy he makes you feel. but his hands are on your hips, keeping you close against his chest with a stability that you’d always found in him.

another long press of his lips with yours and you whimper sweetly as he pulls away to look at you, pretty gaze glowing slightly from under the snowy peaks of his hair before he’s smirking again, maybe a little wider this time.

“you gonna laugh f’ me when i tell jokes again? i can feel the tears threatening to start again.” he’s like a professional when his cheeky grin twists into an exaggerated pout, making you laugh again— a little harder this time before you’re pinching at his cheeks playfully and bringing him in for another quick kiss.

“you’re such a dork.” you tease and gojo groans against your lips like he’s offended.

“mmm, no thank you? oh i’m hurt, sweet girl. what’ll i do with you now, hm?” the look he gives you as he pulls away is suspicious, a raised brow as his head falls to the side and he really looks like he’s considering it. until the next moment his large palm is coming down heavy on your ass before his next handful squeezes.

“satoru!” you squeal but that only seems to make him chuckle as he leans down to kiss you again, rougher this time despite the way you’re both smiling giddily into the shared, messy press of eachother. almost too quickly finding yourself pressed up against the wall in the hallway as he melts into you.

“let’s see! oh, i’ve got a few ideas.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff

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wilchur · 5 months

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Isn't it a bit odd that Gortash is the only one who had no idea where tf Durge disappeared off to? Between him having to be there during the raid to crown the brain with Durge and Ketheric, and Orin showing up right after all like "I'm the Chosen of Bhaal now :)" I find it hard to believe that he not only didn't realise something must've happened to Durge down there, but that he also did not investigate their disappearance at all? It literally takes like 10 minutes to go through the whole thing and Orin did not hide their "body" at all. And yeah "we promised to not meddle in each other's affairs" blah blah, but he spent A Lot of time in the colony after the raid playing with his pickled brain jars so is it really meddling if Durge was literally a 3 minute walk away, being opened and closed like a reusable Ikea ziplock bag over and over again?

So my headcanon is that he had no idea when exactly the attack happened because Orin took Durge's form right after the deed was done and kept the disguise on for as long as she could. By the time Gortash (running on 2h of sleep a day and sheer force of will, making sure everything Goes According To Plan) finally figured out what was going on, it's been too long to pinpoint the exact moment "Durge" began to act off and know where to look for their body at the very least. Plus it's not like he could put the entire scheme on pause just to go chasing ghosts, Durge would not want him to.

And I think it fucked him up a bit, that he took too long to notice and lost his chance at maybe preventing the entire thing from unraveling. I think that "we promised to not meddle in each other's affairs" is either a lie or him trying convince himself he couldn't have done anything anyways.

Now imagine a Durge that is not an idiot, that dug through every nook and cranny of Moonrise and the colony in search of answers and knows a lot more than Gortash assumes they do since they're supposed to be a full on amnesiac. A Durge that talked to the elderbrain, that read the prayer of forgiveness and recognised their own handwriting, and that learned from Balthazar's notes right next to it that this Enver Gortash they so admired spent considerable time there while they were being tortured endlessly just on the other side of the fleshy corridor.

Imagine that instead of "Orin betrayed me, and you did nothing to help me then." they would say something more along the lines of "You call me your nearest and dearest, your favourite, but I know you were right there when Baltahzar's necromancer played with me like a doll for weeks and did nothing to help me." and just watch this man disintegrate from the psychic damage in real time.

#i just want to see this terrible man suffer #durgetash and balduran/ansur messiest divorce in the realms competition #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #durge spoilers #the dark urge #durgetash #baldur's gate 3 #enver gortash

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sanatomis · 22 days

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⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.”

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him?

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand.

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces.

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.”

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind.

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.”

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem.

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today.

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school.

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day.

“I need you to come to my school next week.”

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant.

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either.

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—”

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure. “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.”

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense.

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.”

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly.

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over.

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.”

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either.

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end.

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes.

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him.

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat.

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him.

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it.

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room.

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy. “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?”

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.”

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost.

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.”

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted.

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled.

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.”

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel.

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them.

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew.

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it’s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

taglist: @luv-gin @sad-darksoul @parttimep3t @nanuer @bubbletae7 @chilichopsticks @gabirii @nyxlai @rattywatty @chaoticevilbakugo @ploylulla @sugasbrownsuga @littleagxs @m3ow1 @booksarekindaneat @frankenstein852 @bananasquash @jasm-1ne @chicken-fifi @yanelis-world @satory @satoryaa @sasfransisco @faetoraa @softiehee

#ꕤ — sanatomis darling: fushiguro megumi #ꕤ — sanatomis darling: gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x platonic!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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kingpippthe2nd · 8 months

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It took me until this week to realise how much season two has changed my perspective on... well almost everything Good Omens.

I finally rewatched season 1 for the first time since Neil broke my stupid little heart. Honestly, I had convinced myself that I was over the heartbreak.

Do I torture myself on this website on a regular basis? Yes. Do I refuse to read fics without a "hurt/comfort" tag? Yes. But I was fine. I was healing. I was good. I was over it.

Did episode 3 hit differently after everything I'd been through after S2? A bit. But nothing I didn't expect.

And then there was S1E6. The Ritz. Nightingales. And I just wasn't ready. I had heard that song a thousand times throughout the last few weeks. But context does seem to matter. Because here I was, three notes in, sobbing mercilessly.

This scene used to be a safe space for me. A warm little patch of sunshine to curl up in, when I felt down. It was hot cocoa on a rainy autumn day. It projected to so much love and comfort. And now it's all twisted.

The contrast to S2E6 couldn't be sharper. Oh, what a beautiful web of similarities Neil has woven for us. Here are our two favourite idiots, smiling at each other, so in love, not a care in the world, because the world is safe and they are toasting it. Yet I know, what the future holds for them. I know, how incapable of truely communicating they are. I know, how they will break each others hearts, paving each others way to hell with all the best intentions.

You have to hand to Neil. He really knows how to tell a good story.

I haven't dared to listen to " A Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square" in the last week. It will take me a good long while to work up the courage again.

I don't even know, how to end this mess of a post. I just hope, Neil will bring the song back in season 3 and make it be all fluffy and comfortable and lovely again.

To the world, my friends.

#no hot takes to be found here #i'm just rambling #don't mind me #I'm fine #nightingales or no nightingales that's the question #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #neil gaiman

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huggingkoalas · 8 days

Text

is this hatred? or love? part 1

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis what happens when you have to share a bed with your enemy?

word count 2.9k

warnings fluff, teasing, gunshot wound, reader’s injured, pet names (sweetheart, love), one bed trope, enemies to lovers, they’re both so in denial it makes me want to bang my head against the wall

author’s note haven’t had the time to write in a long time. i honestly had a lot of fun writing this, natasha being the most annoying fucking tease is the biggest headcannon to me <3

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“Need a hand, dorogaya (sweetheart)?”

“Shut up, Romanoff.”

“If you say so.”

With your dominant hand pressed firmly against your wounded abdomen to stem the bleeding, your other hand trembled as it swiped the card through the reader. Natasha leaned her back casually against the adjacent wall, her boredom thinly veiled by a feigned yawn as the reader emitted its third ‘beep’ of rejection due to your insufficient force.

“We’ll be here all day. Aren’t you supposed to have super soldier serum in your blood?”

“I said shut up.”

With an exasperated scoff, Natasha snatched the card out of your hand. She forcefully swiped it through the reader, the satisfying click of the door unlocking echoing in the corridor. As the door swung open to reveal the dimly lit motel room, Natasha couldn’t help but grin smugly.

“See? Easy as pie.”

You grunted in response, carefully adjusting your stance to maintain pressure on your wound. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, love.” She replied breezily.

With a nod of appreciation, you stepped through the doorway, a wave of relief washing over you, although the throbbing pain in your abdomen dampened it. Natasha followed suit, closing the door behind her and locking it. She walked past you, her demeanour shifting subtly from teasing to attentive as she scanned the room. Once she familiarised herself with the layout and window exits, she turned back to you, nodding her head to give you the all-clear.

The room looked ordinary like any other hostel room, with neutral-toned walls and simple furnishings. A small table sat in one corner, adorned with a lamp and a few scattered brochures. Across the room, a worn-out armchair stood next to a narrow window, its curtains drawn shut to block the dim city lights. On the opposite wall, a modest dresser provided limited storage space, its drawers slightly ajar. Despite its lack of luxury, the room emanated a sense of comfort. As you looked around the unremarkable surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude for the simple shelter it provided.

While you were busy surveying the room, Natasha’s attention was on your injured abdomen, a subtle flash of concern in her eyes. The sight of the fresh blood staining your shirt in the brief moments it took to open the door tugged at her heartstrings, even if she would never admit it to you.

“How bad is the wound?” She inquired, pointing a finger towards your abdomen.

You glanced down, noting the slight redness seeping through the fabric and onto your shirt. “Well, I wouldn’t have this wound if someone realised that a HYDRA agent was aiming at them.” You retorted.

Natasha smirked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Hey, it’s not my fault they can’t resist taking a shot at me, I’m irresistible.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite the ache in your side. “Irresistible, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“Of course.” She shrugged casually, giving you a knowing look. “I honestly think we both attract trouble wherever we go. It's probably the only reason Fury paired the two of the biggest troublemakers on this mission, right? He’s probably having the best day of his life without having to deal with us constantly being at each other’s throats.”

You smirked, acknowledging the truth in her words. “Seems like Fury knows what he’s doing after all.”

“Well, I’d like to think he’s getting some entertainment out of it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Entertainment? More like a headache.”

Her smirk softened into a faint smile as she shook her head. “Just because you saved me doesn’t mean that I don’t hate you still.”

“Likewise, Romanoff. Just because we’re being all buddy-buddy right now doesn’t mean I suddenly like you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Good. Wouldn’t want things to get too sentimental, partner.”

You knew that the word ‘partner’ was dripping with teasing and sarcasm. The two of you were anything but cooperative with each other. You both frequently exchanged biting remarks, teasing, and insults. You couldn’t help but wonder what you had done to make her despise you so much. You were nice to her when you joined the Avengers all those years ago, but it always seemed that she harboured a deep dislike for you. When you spoke up in a team meeting, she would scowl and you could always feel her gaze burning a hole in your skull.

In the beginning, you tried to get along with her and be as friendly to her as you were to everyone else. From offering her assistance during training or helping her with her mission reports, nothing you did ever seemed to break the coldness and distance in her heart. You knew she wasn’t the most extroverted person, but you never saw her act that way towards others. Eventually, you gave up and decided it was best to ignore her, just as she had ignored you.

Of course, once you started ignoring her too, Natasha’s behaviour changed. She started teasing and taunting you, finding ways to provoke a reaction from you even when you tried to ignore her. And she kept winning. Her incessant teasing had a way of getting under your skin. It was a frustrating cycle of provocation and reaction. You felt like you were constantly on edge whenever she was around.

But reluctantly, you couldn’t deny that everything had changed during the mission an hour ago. Despite the heated tensions, you both had an unspoken agreement to watch each other’s backs in battle.

As the weight of the moment settled on you, Natasha’s gaze softened, and her concern for your well-being was evident in the depths of her eyes. “But seriously,” she said, her tone changing to genuine concern, “let me help you tend to that wound before it gets infected.”

You shook your head slightly. “It’s okay, I can take care of it myself.”

Her expression tightened slightly, her concern unwavering. “Stubborn as always,” she muttered under her breath.

You met her gaze with a steely resolve. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve handled worse.”

Her lips formed a thin line, showing her frustration. "Think of it as a way of repaying you for helping me.” She insisted, her voice firm.

You knew she wouldn’t give the matter up. The both of you were equally as stubborn as a mule. “Fine.” You relented, offering a nod.

“Great,” Natasha replied, a hint of relief in her tone. “To the bathroom then. I’m sure this motel room has a first aid kit somewhere…”

You and Natasha made your way to the bathroom, her footsteps echoing yours. Silently, you took a seat on the edge of the closed toilet seat. You leaned back against the toilet’s tank, the cool porcelain surface offering a brief respite from the tension in your muscles. She wasted no time in retrieving the first aid kit from the mirror cabinet and moving towards you.

“Take off your shirt,” She instructed, settling the first aid kit on the tiled floor.

Your brows furrowed in surprise at her directive. “W-What?” You stammered, looking down at her with an incredulous look.

Natasha rolled her eyes at your surprise, her patience wearing thin. “Come on, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” she chided, her tone tinged with exasperation. “I can’t clean your wound if you have your shirt on.”

Reluctantly, you began to peel off your shirt cautiously. Each inch revealed the angry red gunshot wound beneath, eliciting a whine as the fabric grazed against your wound. At least you were lucky that the bullet passed through instead of staying inside your body. As more of your skin came into view, Natasha’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. A blush crept onto her cheeks, betraying her normally composed demeanour. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, the sight of your exposed skin stirred something within her, igniting a warmth that she couldn’t quite suppress. Quickly, she averted her gaze, busying herself with preparing the first aid supplies. Though she tried to hide it, the flush on her cheeks lingered.

As you finally removed your shirt, Natasha’s expression softened even further. “Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me. It was incredibly stupid, though.” She murmured, her voice softer now.

“It’s alright, Romanoff.”

“You can call me Natasha, you know. You’re the only one in the team that still calls me by my last name.”

“Alright, Natasha.” Your lips twitched into a small, appreciative smile.

In a comfortable silence, Natasha began to carefully clean the wound with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, her touch gentle yet precise. The warmth of her fingertips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. As she worked, you couldn’t help but steal glances at her, admiring the focused expression on her face.

Natasha’s brows furrowed as she delicately dabbed at the wound, her lips forming a thin line. Now and then, she would scrunch her nose up, a small, endearing gesture that softened her usual stoic expression. Despite the pain, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sight of her.

Once the wound was cleaned and dressed, her gaze met yours with a sense of satisfaction. “There,” she said softly, relief in her voice. “All done.”

You offered her a grateful smile, “Thank you.”

A small, genuine smile curved Natasha’s lips as she met your gaze. “Anytime, dorogaya (sweetheart).”

As she rose to her feet, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You were well-acquainted with Natasha’s tendency to use nicknames on you, especially ‘dorogaya’, but it was typically wielded with a teasing edge. This time, however, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual teasing tone. Instead, it carried a genuine warmth that caught you off guard.

“Uh…” You stammered, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the unexpectedly sincere endearment. Clearing your throat, you tried to push aside the fluttering in your chest.

Her smile widened at your reaction. “Nervous, are we?”

“Shut up, Natasha.”

She chuckled softly at your retort, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she teased, her tone light and playful.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

With a shake of her head, Natasha reached down to offer you a hand. “Come on, let’s get you back on your feet,” she said.

You hesitated for a moment, touched by her gesture, before placing your hand in hers. With a steady grip, she helped you to your feet. She moved to the doorway before looking at you over her shoulder. “I’ll let you shower first. Try not to get water on the dressing.”

“Got it.”

With a final nod of acknowledgement, Natasha closed the door behind her, leaving you alone in the quiet of the bathroom. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you slipped off the rest of your clothes and placed them in a pile with your soiled shirt. A sense of relief washed over you at the prospect of washing away the grime of the day’s events. You turned on the water, allowing the warm cascade to envelop you as you stepped beneath the stream. Despite the lingering ache in your abdomen, the sensation of the water against your skin was soothing, easing the aching tension that had settled in your muscles.

As you stood beneath the spray, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that led to this moment. Fury had sent you and Natasha on what was supposed to be a routine mission, but as these things often went, it spiralled into chaos. The intel given was faulty, the security stronger than anticipated, and you were in over your heads before you knew it. It was a mission gone wrong, one of those rare instances where even the most meticulous planning couldn’t prevent disaster.

In the aftermath of the debacle, with your injuries sustained and the mission being held in another country, there was no choice but to seek refuge in a motel room for a night before a Quinjet could transport you back to the Avengers Compound. Fury had booked a motel room for you and Natasha, a nondescript haven tucked away from prying eyes. It was a humble accommodation, far removed from the luxuries of the Compound, but at least it provided a temporary sanctuary where you could tend to your wounds without drawing unwanted attention.

As you stood beneath the shower’s warm spray, the mission’s events were still fresh and raw as they replayed in your mind like a relentless loop. The close calls, the split-second decisions, the adrenaline-fueled rush of combat. And yet, despite the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remained constant — Natasha fighting with you side-by-side.

You couldn’t help but marvel at Natasha’s resilience. Her determination even in the face of overwhelming odds. She had saved your life more times than you could count, her skills as an assassin matched only by her unwavering loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D.

However, this time was different. During the mission, the roles had been reversed. In a moment of instinct, you had thrown yourself between Natasha and the gun aimed in her direction, putting your own life on the line to protect hers. The only reason you could think of for making a reckless decision like that was that simple — you couldn’t bear the thought of losing Natasha, even if you hated her with your whole heart. There was no hesitation as you acted on pure instinct, driven by a need to protect her.

As the warm water washed away the physical remnants of the mission, you emerged from the shower. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the steam-filled air gave way to the coolness of the room.

Immediately, your gaze was drawn to Natasha, who sat on the edge of the bed, her expression a mix of surprise as she took in your appearance. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the intensity of her gaze, prompting you to tighten the towel around yourself in a subconscious attempt to shield your modesty.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence. “Sorry for staring. I.. uh-” She faltered for a moment, her words trailing off as she cleared her throat, seemingly struggling to find the right thing to say. “We have a problem. There’s only one bed.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for how to respond. You looked down at the singular bed Natasha was sitting on. You couldn’t help but feel a flush of embarrassment colour your cheeks. The prospect of sharing a bed with Natasha added a whole new layer of complexity to your already complicated relationship with her.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Natasha suggested, standing up.

You felt a pang of guilt wash over you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be fair for her to sacrifice her comfort for your sake.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You interjected quickly. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.”

Natasha crossed her arms, regarding you with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re the one that’s injured, you should get the bed instead.”

You shook your head. “I appreciate the concern but I really can’t let you sleep on the floor. We’re both equally exhausted from the mission and besides, you need a good night’s rest too.”

Natasha’s expression softened, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and stubbornness. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor either,” she countered, her voice firm.

You sighed, realizing that neither of you would easily back down from this standoff. “Alright, how about this,” you proposed. “We share the bed. It’s really small, so we’ll have to sleep pressed up against each other, but at least neither of us has to sleep uncomfortably.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, considering your offer. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone softening with concern.

“I’m sure.” You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Go take a shower. You smell.”

She chuckled softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Yes ma’am.”

As Natasha disappeared into the bathroom, you took a moment to collect your thoughts, relieved that the tension between you had dissipated, at least for now. Sharing a bed with her was certainly going to be an… interesting experience.

You reached for the bag you had dropped near the doorway and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Quickly, you dressed yourself. As you settled into bed, you heard the door open as Natasha emerged from the bathroom. You were facing away from her as you felt the bed dip behind you when she got into bed. Feeling her presence behind you, you turned your head to offer her a small smile.

“Can I… wrap my arm around you? It’s the only way we’ll both fit in this bed.” Natasha remarked, her voice laced with a hint of embarrassment.

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension easing further as you nodded in agreement. “Sure, yeah, go ahead.”

As Natasha shifted closer, her front pressed up against your back and her arm gently encircling your waist, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach at the sudden intimacy. Despite the awkwardness, there was a surprising comfort in the warmth of her touch, and you found yourself relaxing further in her embrace.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

“Goodnight, Natasha.” You replied, a sense of contentment settling over you as you closed your eyes.

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#lumi’s fics!#marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

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januaryembrs · 1 month

Text

THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler x reader

828 notes · View notes

pieroulette · 11 months

Text

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

2K notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 4 months

Note

Hello sugar <3! (im very sorry if theres any spelling errors, english isnt my first language <3)

I would love to request some angst/comfort with the batfam? Maybe with the reader (tw: sa, rape) struggling with some sexual assault/rape issues, something they haven't told the family yet? The reader acting different for weeks, months even, and the whole family being suspicious and noticing their sudden fear of being cornered, touches and certain smells maybe?

its totally fair if you don't feel like it, I just really really love your way of writing the characters, and your writing over all. I swear, i swallowed your whole page in the matter of a few hours, I loved every second!

Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?

Note: My gosh im so sorry this literally took me over a month to get to, but it's here. I'm so glad you like my page and thank you for requesting! (Title name from song)

Warnings: SA, r*pe (non explicit but this fic deals with the aftermath. Please read with caution.), Panic attack of sorts.

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Please remember, if you are ever struggling you are not alone. It may be difficult at first but there are many places for you to reach out to, many of which are anonymous and do not need the involement of of name, if you are just needing for someone to talk to. There will always be someone out there to help you. As an alternative, my DM’s are always open for a chat! Remember: You are loved and you are so much stronger than you realise.

⛤

You hadn’t meant to drift away. It sort of just…happened. And it wasn’t even something you were conscious of really. The thoughts were just constantly there and you couldn’t shake the feeling of his hands roaming all over his body; the ghostly touch of his fingers lingering flush against your skin, burning an invisible bruise into your flesh. You tried to shy away from it but it was always there, buried into the front of your mind festering away like an old, unforgotten wound oozing with pus and blood that would only create more problems the longer it was left.

The night it happened was cold and bitter. A shallow fog had cast itself over the city as you staggered back to the manor with makeup running carelessly down your face. You shut yourself away, turning the lock on your door and burying yourself under the covers to try and shy away from the situation. But it never left. It just kept growing, weeding its way back through the open cracks like a stubborn plant that refused to leave no matter how many times you doused it with poison. You didn’t sleep that night. And you didn’t leave your room the day after. In fact the only time anyone saw you that day was when you slunk downstairs in the middle of the night to try and revive the growling of your stomach without having to see anyone when you bumped into Tim who was finally dragging himself up to bed. The interaction was odd. At first he thought that you had just been busy all day and that was why no one had seen you: It wasn't uncommon for one of you to disappear into your room for a few days to catch up on school work or to finally get more than 4 hours of sleep. But something about you was off. You were quiet and lacking that charisma that usually shone from you. You were jumpy too, recoiling as soon as Tim rounded the corner unexpectedly.

When you finally managed to bring yourself out of your room, you were still withdrawn. Instead of donning your normal seat next to Jason at the table, you sat at the end alone pushing your food aimlessly around the plate until someone had finished eating and you took that as a cue to leave. You didn’t mean to leave them in the dark. Really, you didn’t but the thoughts crept into your mind every time they got near. Every hand outstretched sent a shiver crawling down the nape of your neck as if someone was running an ice cold digit along your spine. The thoughts were worse. Intruding. Obnoxious. You felt so…dirty. And your mind seemed to like to make sure you remembered that. You couldn’t help but feel like somehow the whole situation was your fault, which of course it wasn’t, but you were stuck with being guilt ridden; trapped within your walls.

Your skittishness didn’t go unnoticed. The boys tried many times to talk to you or to get you alone, but each time one of them hastily trailed after you as you slunk out of a room you would pick up your pace until they got the hint and stopped dejectedly in the halls. You had just skittered off into another part of the manor when Damian decided he had finally had enough.

He pushed his way back into the library rather frustratedly, stomping his feet so hard against the floor that they continued to pound through the room even as he moved from the polished wood to the carpet amongst the centre of the room. His brothers were still lounging around the room, their legs slung carelessly over the arms of the chairs or folded beneath them as they engrossed themselves in their phones or an ever growing pile of books. They barely even acknowledged that Damian had even returned from his pursuit of use, besides lifting their gaze as he huffed his way back into the room.

“Something is wrong with Y/N.” Damian declared, planting his feet into the carpet in the centre of the room and placing his hands on his hips.

Dick felt as though he could laugh. Damian’s statement was so obvious that you may as well have had a huge, yellow sign above your head that screamed ‘i’m not okay.’ It didn't matter how much effort you put into trying to hide the bags that dropped across your skin, or the way that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with any of them for too long without your skin crawling, they were prominent amongst your saddened features. “Yeah, No shit.”he said, looking up from his phone that he had been mindlessly scrolling on to distract himself from the feeling that gnawed at his gut.

The room fell into a pregnant silence before Damians angry scoff broke the silence.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” He spat. “You’re not worried?”

Jason pushed himself up onto his forearms and spoke out defensively. “Of course we’re worried… It’s just…”

“What?”

“She won’t let us help her, Dami.” Tim said. “We’ve tried, but each time she’s run.”

“Well then try harder!” He said. It was unusual for the youngest Wayne to react this way when it came to his siblings. But, then again it was unusual for you to shy away like this and although Damian would never admit it, he had a soft spot for you and seeing you hurting like this killed him a little inside.

“Damian.” Dick reprimanded sternly.

He sighed and swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t see them suffering like this anymore.”

There was a general agreement between the four of them. Tim chewed away at his bottom lip as he thought for a moment. “What do you propose we do?”

The whole room seemed to think together as one for a moment.

“We corner them.” Damian said. It might have seemed cruel, but it was the only thing he could think of that would stop you from slipping away again. “If they keep running there’s no way we’re going to be able to help, so we just have to compromise.”

You knew that Jason was behind you. You could hear his careful footsteps, evenly spaced by his long strides as he tried to catch your attention. He was loitering outside of your room, trying to catch you as you left. It surprised you to see him as you peeled open the door. You had flashed him as much of a grin as you could muster up as he greeted you, trying to draw you into a one sided conversation that you were itching to get away from the moment it started. You tried to remind yourself that it was just Jason. That he wasn’t going to hurt you. But your mind still thought it was funny to play cruel tricks on you and soon you were making up a poor excuse and fleeing down the halls.

You didn’t make it far though before you collided with a tall figure marching down the other end of the corridor, who braced his hands on your shoulders. Yelping at the unexpected contact you spun on your heel to turn back the way you came only for your breath to get stuck in your throat when you were met with the red of Jason’s shirt. When you backed up, you collided with the eldest vigilante again. Spinning around frantically, you searched for a way out. There was none.

You were trapped.

The thought consumed you quickly, dragging you down like a ton of bricks tied to your ankles until you were drowning in the thought of being imprisoned again. It was all you could think of. It screamed throughout your mind, pumped in your blood. It was nauseating. You could see the other two approaching and panic set into your already scrambled mind. You weaved, trying desperately to spot an exit but the two vigilantes were much bigger than you and their hefty frames took up most of the corridor.

“No. No no no.” You rambled as your heart rate skyrocketed and your breathing came in sporadic, panicked gasps.

Tim furrowed his brow. He didn’t think you would react like this. He reached out to grasp your forearms to ease your shaking body, but you nearly screamed, yanking your arms away from him and backing up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” You stuttered, barely audible between your spiralling state. Fat, hot tears tracked along your face as you sunk to the ground to bury your face within your knees which you clutched to your chest.

The four boys exchanged an anxious glance.

“Y/N…”

“Please…” You gasped. “Stay away from me. I-I can’t anymore… no more. Please.”

“Y/N? What's wrong?” Dick queried. “Talk to us, please. We want to help.”

“No…” You whimpered.

Damian squatted down beside you resting on the balls of his feet before reaching out slowly towards you, ignoring the warning glance that Jason sent his way, and placing it gently on your shoulder.

Flinching, you squeezed your eyes shut. He could feel the way you trembled like a leaf under his touch but he didn’t let go.

“It’s just me Y/N. It’s Dami.”

You registered his words, but you still felt like you were back in that room. You allowed your body to relax just the smallest amount.

“It’s just us, kid. You’re okay.” Dick cooed.

You sniffled. The four of them were crouched around you now.

“You can trust us.”

Your body tensed as you were hit with reminders of that night. The way he had led you away to commit his act of betrayal that would cut deeper than a thousand knives.

“That’s what he said.” You hiccuped.

“Who?” Tim asked tenderly. “Talk to us Y/N.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t want to bring up the memory stuck in your mind.

“Kid… we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

“He- he… took me away from the crowds… He said to trust him- and I thought I could. B-but then he-” Your voice split into an unholy sob.

“Oh..Y/N/N…” Dick said, suddenly understanding.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I can still feel him. Hear him. Just make it stop please!.” You begged, sobbing into your hands.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” He told you, reaching out gently to place a hand on your forearm, you tensed slightly but didn’t pull away. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Ever.”

“We promise.”

You peeled your head away from your arms to reveal your bloodshot, teary eyes. From close up they could see how clearly the ordeal had taken a toll on you. Not just on your body but your mind too.

It took some convincing and a lot of gentle touches of reassurance to get you off of the floor, but the four of them managed to ease you back into your room. They refused to leave you alone after that. Insisting that at least one of them stay by your side at all times until you decided on your own terms that you were ready to take the next step in your recovery and stay the night alone. It was a slow process, but each small milestone made them extremely proud of you. They were there when you awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, crying and shaking, and they were there when you managed to move forwards too. They were there to remind you that recovery isn’t linear, and that it was okay to move backwards. It’s all part of the process. The four of them showed you a different kind of gentleness that you had never seen before, and they tried their hardest to bring a smile to your face everyday. And it was their kindness that began to wash away those feelings. It was them who made you realise that you were loved, strong and would find your way back from the darkness and into the light.

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melancholyhigh · 1 year

Text

WORK HOURS.

ft. re2!rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. you were supposed to help leon out on his first time on the job. instead, you’re helping him out in a different way.

content. smut. 1.2k words. car sex, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, dry humping, sub leon, marking, they’re both so desperate for each other, creampie, pet names, praise kink, virginity loss.

note. man, fuck tumblr. i accidentally posted the unfinished draft n didn't realise :( anyways, i hope you guys like it <3

check out my other works. comments & reblogs are appreciated !!

it was leon’s first week on the job, and you were assigned to show him around since he wasn’t well acquainted with raccoon city. boss thought it would be a great idea to take him on patrol to get him adjusted to the area.

you were excited that a new recruit was joining. it didn’t happen too often, and you knew it was difficult being a rookie — you were in the same position when you had originally joined the RPD. so when you meet him, you plan on being a great lieutenant and helping him where necessary.

your first impression of leon was that he was sweet and a bit naive. he was also rather gorgeous. God certainly had favourites. you couldn’t help but stare at him, and he noticed. a pink blush blooming on his cheeks when he caught you gazing at him. the flushed look made him even more captivating as you secretly wished that the blush on his face would be for different reasons.

you felt guilty for having such thoughts about him. you are his boss, for Christ’s sake. you have to assist him with his duties, not get in his pants.

but how could you not think about him like that? the way he got flustered when your hands brushed up against his or the shy glances he took of you throughout the day as you showed him the workings of the place.

this constant build-up of teasing had been why the fine line between being work professional and fucking the shit out of him had been blurred. leaving you in the predicament you are in right now.

the glass windows are foggy as you and leon sloppily make out in the reclined passenger seat of the police car. you’re hovering over him, legs on either side of his thighs. your pants are off and somewhere near the driver’s seat. you’re too preoccupied with the soft whines that leave leon’s parted lips as you place opened-mouth kisses down the column of his throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh.

this isn’t what you had planned for the night. you and leon should've been patrolling the streets, searching for criminals, not dry-humping in a car in some shitty parking lot.

but, fuck, the whimpers that he makes when he eagerly grips your hips with his big, soft hands and guides your clothed pussy against the bulge of his uniform pants have you overlooking your responsibilities for the rest of the night.

“feel so good,” he groans quietly into your ear as you continue sucking marks on his neck. you pull back to admire your work. his lips, swollen from your passionate kissing, the buttons of his cotton shirt undone, exposing the expanse of his chest littered with reddish-purple marks. you want the sight seared into your brain.

he peers up through his eyelashes, eyes all glossy, and his face flushed with that same fucking blush you adore. he’s bucking his hips up to yours, pants stained with your arousal, leaking through your underwear and his arms circle your waist.

“shit, i wanna feel you inside of me, honey,” you say breathlessly and leon nearly comes in his pants at the thought of feeling your cunt squeezing him tight.

you’re leaning against the dashboard, clumsily unbuckling his belt before half haphazardly throwing it to the side. unzipping leon’s pants, you pull his cock out of his boxers. it’s flushed and red, especially at the tip, which leaked with precum. everything about him was pretty.

you grasp his shaft, slowly stroking him. his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck. your warm hands moving up and down his rigid cock provided enough friction for him to make a mess all over your palms. you realised he was holding out for you, smiling you kissed the top of his head.

“you’re such a good boy, leon,” you said softly.

at your words, you felt his hips jerk up into your hands. moans escaped his lips as he bit into your neck trying to contain them.

he whimpers your name, panting into the crook of your neck.

“need you so bad,” he sobs, tears swimming in his beautiful blue eyes. his cock pulsing and neglected when you pull your hands away from him.

“fuck, okay, sweetheart,” you muttered. leon leans back into the reclined seat, his hands on your hips. his chest moving up and down with every breath he takes.

you push your damp panties to the side, exposing your dripping cunt, you grind onto leon’s cock, groaning when the bulbous head of his cock nicks your sensitive clit. leon gasps at the feeling of your warm, bare pussy up against him. he wouldn’t last that long inside of you.

his cock finally enters your cunt. barely the tip is in, and you both groan in unison. your nails dig into his shoulders for support as you continue to sink down into him.

you feel each vein and ridge of his cock when he bottomed out in you. you moaned loudly. you were filled to the brim with him.

leon’s chest heaves as he feels your warm, gummy walls swallow his cock. he wanted so badly to fuck into you, but he wanted to be good.

“you’re amazing, sweetheart.” you huff out. “‘m gonna start moving, ‘kay?”

he acknowledges your words by squeezing your hips, unable to trust his voice.

you start bouncing on his cock, and all he manages are choked whines and whimpers that leave his pink, lips. he starts bucking his hips up to you, and you’re moaning when he reaches the spots you thought were imaginable.

the obscene squelching sounds of your drenched cunt being pounded into by leon fills the car alongside his and your desperate moans. it’s insane how wet he makes you.

“you hear that, baby? that’s how good you’re making me feel,” you say with a shaky voice.

your words make his tummy tense. he holds you closer, his hips stuttering before he gets into a rhythm again. he’s close to coming.

“‘m close,” he whimpers, and your pussy tightens around him at the sound of his broken voice.

his bangs are sticking to his forehead from the sweat that accumulated. he looks even more beautiful fucked out like this.

“come with me, baby,” you breathed. you brought one of your hands to your clit, rubbing tight circles.

nearing your orgasm, you press your lips to his, pushing your tongue into his mouth. the intimate moment has both of you coming.

leon’s legs are shaking as he comes inside your pussy. he moans into your mouth, feeling your cunt spasming around his cock when you climax. his hips came to a halt, and you feel his sticky cum ooze out of your sensitive pussy.

you’re both breathless, and he’s still holding onto you like his life depends on it.

“you did so well, leon,” you mumble, moving the bangs from his forehead, giving him a kiss. leon heart skips a beat. you treat him so good.

#leon's so babygirl in re2 #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy #re2 #re2 x reader #leon x reader #leon smut #re2 smut #leon x you #leon kennedy x you #re2 x you #smut #re4 x reader #re4 #re4 smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #✩‧₊˚ fics

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

Text

My haven could be you

Joel Miller x f!reader Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Tommy´s brother arrives in Jackson and turnes your hormones upside down. Unbeknownst to you, your mere presence makes Joel absolutely feral.

Word count: 4.235

Warnings: angst, small panick attack, pining, feelings, hidden desire, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), pining, cursing, MINORS DNI!!!

Authors note: I was playing around with this idea of Joel going nuts because he doesn´t know what to do with his feelings and his desires. I hope I made it as juicy as I imagined it to be :P

The moment you arrived in Jackson the weight that´d pulled your shoulders down and forward lifted almost instantly. You couldn’t believe it was actually real. A functioning society, running water, supplies, regular hot meals. As long as everyone pulled their weight, this place was paradise. Even if someone didn’t have particular skills, there was always something to help with. So after resting and healing your weather-beaten and all in all almost broken body, the usual knot in your stomach returned with force and you went to find Tommy and Maria. You found them having a bowl of stew in the big community barn.

“I want to help” you said with a tight voice and looked directly at them. They shared a questioning look before Tommy answered. “We appreciate your vigor,___. It´s just…are you sure you´re up for it yet? How´s your foot?” he nodded towards your right shoe. Your lips formed a tight line. You knew your foot wasn’t fully healed yet. “It´s fine” you said lowly, still holding Tommy´s eyes. He sighed and his lips twitched slightly upwards. “It´s fine, huh?” he leaned forward onto his elbows. “When the Doc took a look at it when you arrived I distinctly remember him saying you needed to take it slow for at least two weeks. And it´s been, what? Four days?” Why was he smirking? The knot in your stomach began to burn uncomfortably.

“Tommy…please,” you started to plead, you patience waring thinner and thinner. “I can´t sit around anymore without doing anything to be helpful. I can look after the horses, I can help cook or harvest the gardens. I can….I can´t keep eating your food, taking your medication and taking up space without…without at least paying something back!” You didn’t even realise when the panting began. Swallowing big gulps of air, your pulse ran amok underneath your skin.

“Whoa, hey. Hold on” Tommy quickly stood by your side and helped your shaking body onto a chair. Without realizing it you began to pick at your knuckles again. Angry red marks appearing yet again. “___, breath. It´s okey. We´ll find something for you, don’t worry. Come on, breath. That´s it.” It was a small attack but still it had an effect. Tommy looked worriedly at you while Maria got up to get a glass of water. His hand lay itself calmly and warm onto your neck while you tried to control your breathing again. When Maria handed you the glass of water you tried to smile at her briefly and mumbled a quiet sorry. She shook her head vehemently and patted your head.

“I didn’t mean to be condescending,___. Really” Tommy said gently. You shook your head quickly. “That´s not…I didn’t think you were. I just…I need to pull my weight” you whispered almost desperately. Tommy nodded and smiled at you. “Okey. Let´s get you something to eat and then we´ll talk, alright? We´ll find you something, sweetheart.”

You gave a grateful smile when he returned with a steaming bowl and sat it in front of you. Having held back on how much you ate in the last couple of days, the delicious smell that invaded your nose made you dig in immediately, burning your whole mouth in the process. Hissing slightly you gave Tommy and Maria a sheepish look as they grinned.

“You know” Tommy said slowly while you eyes took him in. His eyes looked at you fondly. “You remind me of someone. He´s just as hardheaded, stubborn and eager to help as you.” His fond smile turned slightly bitter. “At least he used to be.” You raised your eyebrows in question. “My brother” Tommy explained with a sigh. “Haven´t seen him in ages but…you two have a lot in common.” Swallowing your mouthful of stew you gave him a smirk. “Seems like a reasonable character, your brother.” Tommy threw his head back and laughed throatily. “Yeah” he mused and looked at you amused.

“Yeah, you two would get along great.”

________________________________________________________

One year. One beautiful, blissful year in Jackson and you were your old self again. Sure, some of the worries that lingered in the back of your head would never really disappear but the knot in your stomach, the panic…it had been months since the last time you felt either. You were happy. The people of Jackson helped each other out wherever they could. Monty helped you renovate your kitchen and made sure your stove was working. In return you helped out at the school for three days so his wife could have some time off. Lauren fixed all your ripped clothes and even knitted you some sweaters for the winter. And again in return you helped her with making different kinds of pickles and jerky. That´s how it worked and you loved it. Community. No one needed to be alone.

Tommy and Maria made sure you had a comfortable little flat right above the bakery. They even gave you a small patch of land on which you grew several different kinds of herbs and flowers. Not just for cooking purposes but also some that were helpful with small medical issues. You had a good life. It was warm in winter, in summer there was running water and a small lake.

On one particular nasty winter day you were just on your way to the big kitchen in the community barn to help out when a small commotion caught your attention. The patrol was back but there were two more people riding through the gates. Your eyes caught onto a young girl with brown hair and a stoic expression. Her head however snapped from left to right when she took Jackson in for the first time. You smiled. You knew how she felt exactly. The other person was a man. Slightly greying brown hair and a patchy beard. His dark eyes moved quickly over the gathering crowd as the horses halted and the men and women got off. When the mans eyes twitched in your direction they zeroed in on you for longer than a few seconds. They looked surprised and confused.

He was handsome. Very handsome in fact and you could feel your cheeks heat up but you tried quickly to make it the biting colds fault. It seemed like several minutes that he held your gaze. Unwavering and confusing. He was definitely older than you but you couldn’t help but notice his beautiful features and big frame. Attraction. You felt immediate attraction towards him and your heart began to pound in your chest like it hadn’t done in years. Something searing began to crawl into his expressive eyes when he slowly tore his gaze from you.

Cold. When his eyes left you, you felt cold again instantly and shivered for several reasons all at once. How strange. And then to your shock and delight, the mysterious, gorgeous stranger got off his horse with a shout of Tommy´s name. No way, you thought. It´s his brother. The one Tommy had told you about several times and whos stories that he told you made you giggle or outright snort with laughter. Joel.

As you saw the two bothers embrace in happiness and relieve you couldn’t help but smile as well, happy for your friend.

And then you saw it. Joy made itself onto Joel´s face. It was like the sun was breaking through heavy clouds in early spring. Bringing with it a form of hope for better weather, warmer days, prosperity and abundance. He smiled and you immediately felt your knees weaken when the laugh lines around his eyes appeared. He huffed out a laugh and then pulled his brother back into his arms, still grinning.

An unfamiliar sensation spread through your body when you saw Joel like this. You´d seen him for the first time just two minutes before and yet his smile seemed like the most precious thing in this broken world. It warmed your toes and fingertips, made your heart go ballistic and your brain felt like it was vibrating in your skull. You knew you were staring at him but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to.

“He doesn’t always smile like that, you know.” Screeching you jumped half a meter to the side and looked confusedly over to the young girl that had crept up on you. She was grinning from ear to ear and wiggled her eyebrows. “Huh?” you said lamely. She rolled her eyes but was still smirking. “You were staring at him like you´ve never seen a man before” she giggled. “Pretty pathetic.”

You raised your eyebrows at her choice of words. “First of all: Rude!” you pointed at her. “At least give me your name before you call me pathetic.” She looked to the ground and kicked a frozen piece of mud away. “Ellie” she said and looked at you again sheepishly. You smiled slightly. “Ellie” you repeated. “Second of all” you dared to look over to Joel and Tommy quickly. Tommy was talking to his brother animatedly but his brothers eyes were trained on the two of you. Heat reached your face again when you whipped your head around and continued. “I wasn’t staring. Just…looking.”

Ellie snorted sarcastically. “Aha. Yea, sure. Hey, Joel!” A little panicked sound made its way up your throat when Ellie raised her arms and gestured wildly towards the two men, beckoning them over. Tommy caught your eyes and pulled Joel with him to meet you. A huge shit eating grin on his lips.

When the two of them were standing right in front of you, you saw that Joel had only a couple of inches on you. His expression was still curious but a little careful as well. He turned his head towards Ellie and raised his eyebrow in question. Oh boy…

“Joel, look. I already met someone. Please, meet…uhm…” Ellie began to chuckle. “Can you believe it? She didn’t give me her name yet” her head turned towards you and with a smug expression she continued. “How rude.” Your mouth dropped open and all you could think was little shithead. Though in the next moment you realized that your thoughts were anything but hostile towards the quick mouthed teenager. It was impressive, really. She winked at you and took several steps back and moved towards Tommy so Joel´s attention was now fully on you.

Your eyes met again and with an embarrassed chuckle you extended your hand. “I´m ___. You must be Joel. Tommy´s told be a lot about you.” He shook your gloved hand with his own and again raised his eyebrow making your stomach twist with excitement. “Has he now?” he rumbled. His voice deep and smooth reminded you of honey. His eyes twitched towards his brother for a second but returned quickly to look back into yours. A slither of mischief making his dark irises glitter. “Only good things I hope?” His mouth twitched a little and you were about to melt on the spot. “I´m just goin´ to say yes for now” you said with a grin. Joels eyes squinted as if he tried not to smile.

A few feet away, Ellie and Tommy stood side by side, observing the two of you. “Wow” Ellie said and wrinkled her nose is mock disgust. “That´s actually way too cheesy for my taste. Jesus Christ.” Tommy too was staring at the scene in front of him wondering when the last time was he saw that expression on his brothers face. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “What happened to him?” Ellie shrugged. “The fuck if I know, man. Never seen him acting like that. They should get a room.” Tommy looked at the teenager. “Let´s not jump to conclusions. Maybe it´s just a glitch in the matrix.” Ellie looked at Tommy as if he´d just turned into a unicorn. “A glitch in the what now?” Tommy sighed and shook his head. His gaze returned to his brother and you, his friend, watching as the two of you held a small conversation without realising that none of you had let go of the others hand yet.

____________________________________________________________

Weeks flew by incredibly fast. Tommy had given Ellie and Joel one of the bigger houses and you had a feeling that at least Ellie was growing more and more comfortable in Jackson. She found some friends that didn’t mind her swearing and actually saw it for what it was, she helped out at the stables and always had a smile or a wink for you whenever you passed her in the streets. Joel however seemed to have some difficulty to settle down. Relax. He would go out on patrols whenever he could and mostly kept to himself. He did however have at least one meal a day at the barn. Most of the time dinner. He was usually accompanied by Tommy or Ellie, ate his meal, maybe had some whisky and then got back to his house. Your eyes would wander after him more times than one and you couldn’t help but wish for him to relax a bit more, enjoy the safety Jackson provided. You wanted to know him more.

It was almost laughable how quickly you had developed a massive crush on the handsome brunette. You felt yourself sigh from time to time when your eyes were once again trained on his neck, the curls on his head, his greying beard or his wide shoulders. There was an unusual attraction to him. Something that went further than mere physical reactions to a pretty face. It was quite strange. Especially because you knew exactly what it was. You had crushes before but they almost always only ended in physical outbursts for one or maybe several nights. And then there was either a parting of ways, a fleeting of attraction or even death. None of them devastated you though.

The way your gaze would flit to the gates whenever he was out and the constant nerves that pulsed through your body until you saw him return made you second guess yourself this time around though. You worried about him. You cared about how he felt. You even caught yourself whishing you could be the reason he would be happier in Jackson. Wishful thinking. After your initial meeting and some mundane conversations here and there, he´d taken no other actions to get to know you. His answers were one worded, his small smiles didn’t reach his eyes and you hadn’t seen him look at you once since that day when he and Ellie arrived. It was slowly driving you nuts.

So there you sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whisky and staring after the man that had just left the barn yet again. He´d worn a black shirt and a light flannel over it as the weather was slowly getting warmer. The way the material had hugged his waist and slight tummy pouch almost made you whimper with need. The alcohol coursing through you didn’t make it any better. You closed your eyes momentarily and there he was, looking at you with pure desire in his eyes. That´s it!

You threw back the rest of your drink and got up from the bar. Waving at different familiar faces you lightly stumbled outside and took some deep breaths of the still winter crisp air. Turning down the road towards your flat you felt the desire in your belly boil stronger and stronger. A small high pitched grunt escaped your throat as you forced your jelly like legs to move faster. You needed something to release the tension tonight. And the one thing you wanted more than anything to release it was not obtainable at the time. So, you had no choice than to do it yourself. You stumbled up the flight of stairs at the side of the bakery building and clumsily fished out your keys.

Once the door was closed behind you, you kicked off your shoes and stumbled into your living room overlooking the town square below. Soft light from the streetlamp offered enough light to find your cosy couch. Flopping down on it you immediately lifted your hips and got rid of the denim. Getting rid of the rest of your clothes you were a panting, desperate mess the moment you lay your body back onto the couch and got comfortable. The moment your fingertips brushed over your nipple you knew this wouldn’t take long. Your insides already clamped down around nothing by the time your hand brushed over your mound.

Images of Joel invaded your mind without you having a chance to stop them. You imagined his wide shoulders above you, his calloused hands brushing against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Whimpering and biting your lip you pinched your nipple again and lightly tapped your clit. Your legs shook and tried to close around your hand already but you forced them open again. The slightly cold air of your apartment stroking your wet and heated lips, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. “Fuck” you whispered out of breath. Your finger circling your clit faster and faster while your hips bucked upwards. Throwing your head back you felt the coil in your stomach. Just a little more.

“Fuck, please” you breathed while pushing two fingers inside of you. “Oh shit, oh shit. Ahh, Joel! Fuck. Fuck, please.” Your wrist began to hurt a little the way you so quickly tried to get to that sweet release. You screwed your eyes shut when you felt your orgasm approaching. A few hurried strokes over your clit later, combined with a hefty circling of your stiffened nipple a small shout left your lips. Your back arching into your hand as your body convulsed with Joels voice in your ears. That´s a wonderful girl. That´s it, baby, come on. Come for me, come for me! “Oh god….oh fuck!!” It seemed to go on forever. Several moments later you were still twitching and a strangely sad yet satisfied heaviness washed over you. The itch was halfway gone but you knew you had to do something about your feelings for Joel. This was getting a little out of hand and he didn’t even know about his effect on you. With a heavy sigh and still a bit tipsy you blindly reached for your blanket und pulled it up to your chin, falling asleep almost instantly.

Several houses down the road Joel was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands trying yet again to get the images of you out of his head. The images that where currently the reason for his raging erection that he couldn’t seem to be able to control. Hissing when your sweet innocent smile appeared behind his eyelids and his dick pressed even more against his zipper, he grunted and covered it with one of his hands. This was getting ridiculous. Damn coward, he was. The moment he lay his eyes on you there was something aching in his chest. An itch he couldn’t remember ever having. It wasn’t just sexual. Although he gave up on counting how often he´d already touched himself for just a tiny bit of relief whenever he´d been in your presence.

He felt dirty. Not just because you were probably a good chunk younger than him but because he felt his resolve and patience crumble by the day. He already tried his hardest to not be close to you, to not finally snap, pull you into an alley, hoist you up and kissing you neck. Not to hear your sweet whimpers when he´d finally touch you, caress your silky skin and pant praises into your ear.

“Fucking hell” he grunted and once again gave up on not relieving himself from the tortures pleasure you enveloped him in day after day. He pulled his shirt over his head, stood and kicked his jeans away. Clad in only his boxers he lay down on his bed and once again tried to take control over his body. To no avail. The moment his eyes closed he could see your glittering eyes, you enticing mouth. The beautiful shape of your body making his head spin every time he saw it. You´d worn a V-neck top today. The gently slope of your collarbone burned into his memory. The perfect swell of your chest more revealed than he´d ever saw it.

His hand brushed his bulge and he clenched his jaw shut, pulling his boxers down. His erection hitting his lower stomach gently he could already feel the wetness of precum smudging the angry red tip. Joel drifted away. Thinking about your body underneath his own he began to stroke his cock languidly. His toes already curling slightly he thought about how you´d react to his body. His slight squishiness. Did you like that? Or did you prefer stone hard muscles? He wasn’t weak by any means but age had slowly begun to wrap its fingers around him. Imagining you´d find him as irresistible as he found you, his thumb moved over the slit, gathering the wetness there and circling it around the head.

A deep rumble echoed in his room as he opened his mouth slightly. “God, sweetheart” he breathed as he could feel the heat travel up his spine. Squeezing his cock harder and moving his hand faster up and down he felt a drop of sweat run down his neck. He imagined licking your neck, kissing your pulse point and gently biting at your ear. The sound of your sweet whimpering and breathless pleads invaded his mind. It drove him closer and closer to his end. Where you quiet in bed or would you voice your desires to him? Oh how he hoped you´d do that. He wanted nothing more than to know what made you feel good, worshipped, wanted. Loved.

By the end of that thought he almost lost all control as he felt his balls tighten. Jesus, when was the last time that feelings like returned affection got him going this hard? He was panting by now and murmuring into the darkness. “What do you like, baby, huh? T-tell me.” He gasped when he squeezed the base of his cock hard as to not come too quickly. “Bet you like my tongue, don’t you? Bet you like it when I explore every inch of you with just the tip of it.” Goosebumps covered his whole body at this point and he felt like he was drunk. His head was reeling with every possibility of having you scream his name. “I bet you have the most sensitive nipples, don’t you? Oh fuck! Hggnn…h-how long has it been for you, darlin´? God, I bet y-you´re sensitive all over. Oh, good god. Oh, fuck.” He tried to keep his voice under control but it was shaking and rough.

One hand moved to his mouth and he quickly spit in it. Still moving his other hand up and down on his shaft he covered the head with his slick palm and began lifting his hips with every stroke. He was completely gone at that point. Huffing and moaning he began to fuck his own hand imagining his hips slotted between your legs and looking down at his cock disappearing into your wet and hot pussy again and again. A high monotone sound rushed through his ears as he got lost in the sensation and imagination of fucking you deep into his mattress.

“Ah, shit, baby. That´s it. So fucking warm. Hmmpf, wanna feel you so bad, wanna make you cum for me so bad. P-Please,___. ´M coming. Fuck, fuck,___. ´M coming, c-comi…com…HMMPHH!!” His hips lifted off the bed the moment he felt an overwhelming orgasm crush into him, making him groan and releasing pent up air quickly and loudly. Still gently tugging on his spent cock he rested his head onto his pillow and tried to calm down. His heart almost beat out of his chest as he registered his sticky cum not only covered his hand but had also landed on his stomach and chest. After several minutes he grunted and got up. He walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower.

As the hot water cascaded over his shoulders, back and ass, dribbling down his strong legs he tried to make a plan on how to approach this problem he had with you. Not that it actually was a problem but he couldn’t go on like this. He needed to solve this somehow. Problem was, he hadn’t found himself in this kind of situation with these kinds of feelings in over 20 years.

Either you put him out of his misery or, for some unforeseen, ridiculous reason you desired him too. Wanted to see him smile just as much as he wanted to see you smiling every second of every day.

Grow a pair and at least next time stay long enough to have a drink with her, he scolded himself. It was a start. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Marias birthday celebration at the barn. He actually hadn’t planed on going, seeing as Maria didn’t really seem very fond of him yet but…you´d be there. You´d be there and it would be a party of sorts. He´d get you a drink. He´d try to have a conversation with you. He´d try, damn it. Maybe Jackson was his new beginning with Ellie.

Maybe Jackson was his new haven…with you.

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