#sometimes he sleeps under your bed just to hear your steady breaths

[deathbecomesthem]

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader blurb (wc 790)

Summary: You have a depression induced crying jag. Eddie comforts you. Based on my own experience.

Warnings: This is how my depression feels for me sometimes. It's not a universal thing. I just wanted Eddie to comfort the reader, and meet them where they are.

*Not proofread.

** This is something that was published on a different blog sometime last year. It's going here tonight because I need it.

--

The wrongness was weighing on you, it had been for the last few days. It’s second nature, hiding behind the jokes. You learned a long time ago how to move through your days while your mind is in its darkest corners. You have the script memorized, your hands do the work that’s required without you making the decision to do it.

So you did. You did and did and did. You accomplished. You ate food. You drank water. You relieved yourself. You even managed the expected small talk with your coworkers. No one noticed that the corner of your smile never quite sat right on your face. And now, as you and Eddie sit on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, you can’t do it anymore.

“Hey, Ed, I’m really tired,” you give his knee a little shake to draw his attention away from whatever show he was watching on the television. A cartoon, you don’t know, you’re not actually here with him at the moment. You make sure to keep your voice light and steady, “I’m gonna go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You give him your smile, and you know it must look wrong, but you hope it’s enough to satisfy him. You kiss his cheek, his lips are downturned missing the warmth of your body next to him. He says something to you, and you just nod and say goodnight, hoping you remembered the correct words, mentally checking your script.

You don’t stop in the kitchen and get a glass of water. You don’t go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. You don’t even stop to take an allergy pill. You float along the carpet with one thought in your mind. So close. You can close the door and finally be alone and let the dark move to the front of your mind in privacy.

You do not put your clothes in the hamper. You let them fall to the ground. You do not put your soft night clothes on. You pad to the bed, climb under the covers, and the dam breaks. Sobs wrack your body, wailing like a child into your pillow to muffle the sound. The soft darkness wraps around you and pulls you deep into a feeling of loss and pain. The release of everything you’ve held onto for the last few days – weeks – years all comes crashing through you in a violent way. It feels like grief, like mourning. A loss of something you can’t quite remember.

It goes on like this. On and on. Snot and tears covering your pillow while you howl. You care less and less about the noise the further you sink into the darkness. The last time you cried like this (wept, really) was years ago. Tears do not come easily for you, and at this moment, you know they won’t stop until you fall asleep – resting in the dark, face puffy and stained.

You don’t hear Eddie come into the room. You don’t feel him get into the bed next to you. You’re gone, lost to anything but feeling the pain and letting it surge through you physically. You do feel the warmth of his arm around your center. Firm and pulling you into him. He doesn’t quiet your wails, he just wraps his arms and legs around your body. His weight grounding you and keeping you from getting lost more than you already are.

Minutes, hours, days, months, years pass in that bed. You weave in and out of consciousness, every time you find yourself in bed with Eddie’s body enveloping you. His mouth pressed against your neck, his warm and steady breath releasing from his nose and into your hair. Sleep finally takes you under when your own breathing matches the rhythm of his lungs. You rest in those strong arms, comforting. They are your home.

In the morning when your alarm rings, Eddie’s arms and legs are still holding you, relaxed with sleep but you still feel held. Your eyes are swollen and it’s difficult to open them. Despite sleeping, your body is more exhausted then before you came into the bedroom last night.

His arms pull you into him as he’s roused, nose back in your neck. “Baby. I’m here.” The choked sob that comes from you is not as hopeless as the grief you felt in the night. Not with his voice, breath, heartbeat, and arms so close to you.

You both stay in bed while you make the phone calls. You’re both sick today and can’t go to work, you tell your bosses. You ate something bad yesterday, maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow. Today, though, you need to rest and Eddie needs to be with you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn #angst #eddie munson fluff

[merakiui]

some thoughts about jade leech as a stalker.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, stalking, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, mentions of death/strangulation)

Jade does not love often. In fact, he has a rather small supply of love, which is reserved for his hobbies and family, so when he loves something other than those two things it can only mean trouble. When Floyd has something special and doesn’t share... Well, naturally Jade’s going to want it. He’s never been inherently greedy. Rather, he’s always let Floyd have everything: the larger half of a bluefin tuna, the shinier stone, the bigger seashells, the slice of cake with more frosting, his uniforms whenever Floyd’s were dirtied or damaged. And in return Floyd has, for the most part, shared his things with Jade. This has always been their normal. 

But this time Floyd makes no mention of sharing when it comes to you. In the past, when they were particularly interested in someone, they would share them. Or, in other words, torment that person in equal succession. Azul has been their prime target for years now, and it doesn’t look like either of them will stop their relentless pursuit in seeing how fast they can get Azul to grouse or groan or sigh. You might think they live to see Azul’s misery, but truthfully they want to accompany Azul as he carves misery into the hearts of the poor, unfortunate souls who thought it wise to do business with deep-sea beasts. Teasing him is just a bonus. 

When it comes to you, Floyd is his usual authentic self: blunt and honest to a fault, dangerously so. But that’s what makes his twin so fun. Floyd won’t sugarcoat the obvious. If he dislikes you, he’ll make it known. Jade, on the other hand, will speak syrupy sweet lies in an effort to maintain proper goodwill, even if he detests you. You’ve never really interested Jade, so he can’t say he hates you. But he can’t say he loves you either. To him, you are just a powerless human in a habitat that does not suit you. Really, even with all of the tricks and traps you pulled to beat Azul at his own game, you remained boring to him. He didn’t pay you much mind after everything had been resolved and you’d been free to return to Ramshackle. That should have been the end of his story with you. 

But then, some time later, you start to make frequent appearances at the lounge. It doesn’t take Jade long to learn that you only show up when Floyd’s on shift, and it also doesn’t take him long to theorize that you might have fallen for his brother’s unique charms. It’s sweet, in a way, how Floyd lights up when he sees you, how you smile a little more brightly when he speaks to you, how your laughter is so very buoyant when Floyd lifts you into the air and spins you happily. Jade’s content to watch from the sidelines, pleased to know that his brother has found a friend in you. That might make it easier to trick you into a contract.

He’s so set in this way of thinking, only viewing you as a pawn or a stepping stone towards some bigger end goal. But when Floyd brings you back to the dorm and you become more than a constant in Jade’s life, he starts to wonder what makes you so special. What is it about you that has his brother so enamored? What makes you irresistible? What parts of you are appealing? Jade thinks it might be how quick it is you submit when Floyd’s got you pinned into the mattress, face first, rough hands spreading your thighs apart, so he can sink into you more easily. Floyd likes that; he likes the weak things that crumble under him. He likes to push things to breaking. He likes to mark and bite and bloody and bruise and shred.

Jade likes to fix. He likes to mend, and then break, and then mend all over again. He likes the process, the psychological science behind a simple gesture, much like how he takes great pleasure in playing god over the plants in his terrariums. They say a budding serial killer starts small—with animals like rabbits or squirrels or cats. Jade starts with plants. He’ll put them in stressful environments—in soils with nutrients that don’t quite work—and he’ll watch them wilt, mottle, mold, and decay. He’ll watch them struggle to adapt, he’ll watch them yearn for water or sunlight, and only when he’s certain they’ve had enough he’ll give them proper, healthy care. It’s fun, the way he has so much control over something as dynamic as a plant. But plants cannot protest, cannot fight back, cannot act in the same way humans do. 

But it’s quite satisfying to pluck dried petals from a withered flower, almost like a morbid game of effeuiller la marguerite, and not hear a single scream.

So Jade is fully expecting Floyd to tire of you, to break you enough until boredom sinks its fangs into him and he moves on with his life. And what Floyd breaks Jade fixes, so he’s very ready to glue your heart together when Floyd shatters it. He’s ready to offer a handkerchief and his ear should you need to vent. He’s already prepared his speech: “I must apologize on behalf of Floyd. You know very well how he gets. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.”

Unfortunately, you remain intact. Months pass, Floyd continues to love you, and your relationship unfolds like a lotus in early morning. Jade continues to observe. Floyd has never been one for privacy, so he’s seen every kiss, every bite, every inch of exposed skin. Hell, he’s sat at his desk and tallied Mostro Lounge’s monthly expenses while Floyd fucked you dumb on the other side of the room. He’s even made eye contact with you when you happened to gaze his way while his twin was buried balls-deep in that tight hole of yours. He wonders what goes on in that head of yours. Perhaps there’s nothing substantial within. Floyd’s scrambled your brains enough, so you could just be useless now. Though that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? He knows there’s more to you than you let on, especially when you play top and take every inch of Floyd, riding him so skillfully, and all Floyd can do is dig his fingers into your hips to guide you along to the rough, erratic pace the both of you have set. 

Jade watches fondly from the shadows. Floyd likes to have access to your neck and shoulders; he likes to take you from behind while leaning down to bite into soft flesh. But Jade thinks it would be much nicer to gaze upon your face, to kiss salt from your eyes, to pepper your jawline with tiny pecks, all while peering into eyes that house a beautiful soul. He thinks it would be nice to hold you down, have your legs wrapped around his waist or thrown up onto his shoulders, while he bottoms out. If it were Jade, he’d take you in every position, but he’d find the most pleasure in eye contact. There’s something intimate about it, much like how there’s intimacy in the hands that wrap around a throat. You have to be close to someone when you’re restricting their airflow; you have to squeeze until veins pop, until your hands are sore, until your fingernails have burrowed so deeply into skin that the crescent moons color crimson. It takes minutes to strangle someone, and every minute is spent staring into the wide, terrified eyes of a desperate soul on the verge of death.

Jade likes the way you smell, the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you are, in every meaning of the word, so very filled with life. Even down to the way you breathe and gasp and moan and cry, you are life itself. Jade wants to bottle that for himself—pluck you from Floyd’s flower pot and place you in a terrarium with the most potent elements just to see how long you’d fare. He wants to save you from those same conditions, sandwich your face between gloved hands when he’s kneeled to your lowered height, and whisper about how it’s okay, about how you’re safe, about how he’d never truly hurt you. Jade knows that loving someone is a very special thing, but the way he loves you is not quite pleasant. The love he has for his hobbies and family is natural. Normal. Simplistic and familial. 

The love he has for you is murderous and frightening. Some days he looks at you like you’re prey he’s not yet devoured. Like you’re to be his first victim. 

Jade starts small. He takes tiny trinkets—a keychain, a pencil, an accessory. He stores these in a shoe box under his bed. When Floyd brings you over and clothes are cast aside, he swipes your undergarments for himself. He won’t wash them until he absolutely must. He’ll have the soft fabric wrapped around his dick later that same evening when Floyd’s fallen asleep and he’s up late contemplating love and lust and life and death, and he’ll cum to the thought of you. Sweet, adorable, oblivious you. 

He’s what one would call a persistence predator—a hunter who gradually wears his prey down over time. He takes from you, watches you, listens to you fret about missing things to Floyd, who promises to find the bastard who’s messing with you and squeeze them until they’re blue and purple. Jade smiles at that. Floyd wouldn’t really do that to him. Sure, they’ve hit each other when they’ve fought and roughhoused on occasion, but the punches were never truly meant. Sure, they might have been thrown playfully or angrily, but they were all temporary bouts of strength. Floyd wouldn’t truly hurt him, so to hear these determined promises and to see how you relax around him... It’s really cute. Jade wonders how much more he can take from you. 

And he wonders how much more you can take before you’re splintering. 

Really, you got lucky that Floyd picked you first. He’s far more merciful. Far more sweeter. Far more loving. At least Floyd is honest with his (at times) rough nature. At least he makes it known that he wants to bite you until you’re bleeding. But Floyd can’t stand whining. He hates it when people cry about things he can’t bother to care about, and lately you’ve been whining about this stalker you think you have for weeks now. Floyd’s told you you’re just being a scared shrimpy—that there is no stalker, that you’re probably just misplacing or losing these items, that none of them really matter because they’re replaceable. 

Jade gets lucky when Floyd finally washes his hands of you, officially fed up with your whining. And what Floyd damages Jade fixes. So when you’re in tears, distraught over the break-up and your missing items and your stalker and the fact that the door to Ramshackle was left unlocked again and that you feel like someone’s living in your shadow, Jade arrives to rescue you from your fear. You don’t even hesitate to cling to him and cry, spilling your worries in waterfalls. Perhaps it’s because he’s a familiar face. He is a reflection of Floyd, after all. 

“Oh dear,” he’ll whisper, stroking your back, allowing you to bury your face in his chest and sob. “There, there.”

You can’t see his expression, but there is a smile spreading on his lips. And his eyes are alight with cruel glee. 

“Would it make you feel better if someone accompanied you to your classes?” Your feeble nod is all he needs. “In that case, shall I spend a few days at Ramshackle with you? I’m certain whoever’s pursuing you won’t get very far if I’m around.”

And he’s right. Your stalker never takes anything again. They never leave the front door unlocked. They never trail behind you, taking shelter in your shadow. That’s because he’s your stalker, though you never managed to figure that out, and this time he doesn’t have to dwell in shadows or on the sidelines. This time he can stand before you as a friend, a soon-to-be lover, and perhaps a lifelong mate. 

Jade does not love often, but when he does it is as beautifully painful as tearing the wings from butterflies. 

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst #n/sfw #i think my favorite thing about writing yandere jade is how brutal and remorseless he can be #it's probably because he grew up in the harsh environment of the sea #which would naturally harden anyone and make them more predatory than a prey #it's probably also why he (and floyd and azul) see nothing wrong with murder #yes it's morally wrong and very much illegal #but in the ocean it's eat or be eaten and really do you think jade is going to let some other predator snap his darling up? :) #challenge: write one yan jade thought without it spiraling into a thought about his murderous rizz #challenge failed </3 he is a walking danger you cannot tell me he wouldn't think of the most horrifying things when it comes to darling #more jade thoughts!!! consider an artist (painter/sculpter/etc) jade who is absolutely obsessed with you (the nude model from his art class) #because you're the one who has finally inspired him and broken his months-long artist's block #and also because he'd like to paint you in the most vicious red #or jade who has broken into your home and is living there in secret without you knowing #sometimes he sleeps under your bed just to hear your steady breaths #he never rearranges anything in your house but he does do the dishes or clean up messes you've made #you can never remember if or when you cleaned these things but you never think much of it #jade stands at your bedside when you sleep at night and he watches you #you'll happen to wake and you'll spot him but by the time you've scrambled to wake up and turn the lights on he'll already be gone #so you're left to wonder if he was ever there in the first place or if you were still dreaming #he is the terror that you will never see until it's too late

[romantichomicide95]

megumi fushiguro

summary: “its okay, i couldn't sleep anyways."+ playing with their hair. fluff request for @euclase0

notes: gn reader. fluffy fluff. sad megs. my boy needs a hug. not proof read.

You lie in bed, having just gotten comfortable when you hear a soft knock at your door. Puzzled at who possibly could be at your door at this hour you roll out of bed. You open the door to your boyfriend, Megumi, standing there, his dark locks tousled and his eyes filled with exhaustion.

“Gumi? What are you doing here?" you ask, concerned. It wasn’t like him to show up like this, unannounced. Usually he’d at least send a quick text of I’m coming over before making the short walk to your dorm. He gives you a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I uhhh couldn't sleep," he admits. "Thought I’d take a chance and see if you were up.” He pauses, looking at the ground and avoiding your gaze. “Sorry.”

You nod, understanding the feeling of restlessness all too well. “No baby it’s fine. I can’t sleep either anyway.” Stepping aside, you invite him in, closing the door softly behind him. Your room is dimly lit, only the glow of the tv and your open laptop that give the little light to the room. Nevertheless, when Megumi takes a seat on your bed, you can see that his posture is slightly slouched, and the bags under his eyes are heavier than usual. You sit down next to him and silence lingers for a few seconds, neither of you knowing how to fill the space.

“So why can’t you sleep.” You ask, breaking the silence you reach out and place your hand in his and his fingers instinctively intertwine with yours.

“I guess I have been feeling restless lately," Megumi confesses with a shrug, you can feel the heaviness of his voice, laced with the weight of many sleepless nights. "It’s like my head keeps spiraling, with everything going on. I don’t know."

“Yeah, I know what you mean," You say squeezing his hand, hoping to offer some small measure of comfort.

“Sometimes the nights can be the toughest," you continue softly. "being alone with your thoughts."

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I came here, just being near someone you care about can quiet the noise in your head sometimes.”

You take a deep breathe, in and out, then fall back against your headboard, pulling Megumi down onto your lap. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair. He tenses slightly under your touch for just a moment, until your hand moves in a soothing rhythm, your fingers massaging his scalp.

Megumi closes his eyes, finding comfort in the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. Relaxation washes over, relaxation that he hasn’t felt at all in the last few weeks. As your soft touch against his scalp continues, the tension in his body seems to dissipate.

Your brush your thumb against his temple, tracing soothing circles. You feel Megumi’s breathing begin to steady. It's as if your touch has the power to ease his restless mind. And it does, it’s why he came to you. Because he knew, he knew the only comfort he’d be able to find was right here laying next to you.

A sense of calmness washes over the room. The soft glow from the laptop and the faint hum of the TV allow the outside world to fade away. You continue running your fingers through his hair, losing track of time as the minutes tick by, content in the moment.

You lean down to place a soft kiss against his lips and as you do so he pulls you down with him, positioning you to lay down next to him as he envelops you in his arms.

Megumi opens his eyes, meeting yours. His lips twitch, the closest he comes to a smile in this moment. "Thank you," he says as he tightens his grip, pulling you in closer to his chest and burying his head in the crook of your neck. “You always know what to do.” He whispers against your skin.

You chuckle softly, “Your welcome, but I didn’t do much.” It was moments like this that made you realize just how much weight was on Megumi’s shoulders. How much burden he had been carrying around his whole life.

“You did though, just by ya know…being here." He says nuzzling his head in closer to your neck and holding you impossibly closer. It was true, he didn’t exactly know how to say it, but just you being who you were was enough to make even the darkest of his days brighter. As cliche as it sounds, that’s what he thought. You were the sun, in his dark and dreary world….you were the sun.

“Well, I’ll always be here for you Gumi," you say softly, "You're important to me, and seeing you like this breaks my heart. You can always come to me.”

Megumi sighs, his breath tickling your skin. "I know. I appreciate it…a lot," he murmurs lifting his head to look at you,” I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re important to me to. I love you. You know?”

You smile, “I know. I love you too.” you saying leaning in to kiss him, afterwards nuzzling your neck into his own this time. “Let’s get some rest K?” you murmur against his skin. “I sleep better with you anyway.”

Megumi holds you even tighter, as if he never wants to let you go. You both lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort in each other's presence as sleep finally takes you both away.

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[seungmoonandstars]

Good Morning

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 3.6k

rating: fluff/explicit/18+ ಇ

comments: domestic idol!Seungmin! this was my very first Seungmin/skz fic! I wrote this as a precursor to blind date before I even knew I was gonna write blind date. hope you guys like it!

☁︎ ⋆｡ ﾟ☼ ｡

You wake early…much earlier than usual, you think. The blackout curtains have been pulled together tightly, and you smile in your half sleep thinking of Seungmin carefully closing them, making sure no sunlight finds its way to the bed. He can’t force himself to sleep late, but sometimes he stays in bed, wrapped in his blanket and playing on his phone until you finally begin to stir.

Not today, though. You roll over to greet his empty, fluffed up pillow, and a carefully placed Pochacco plushie. You let out a breathy laugh and roll to your back. He’s not romantic—not the in traditional sense. He has other ways of showing his affection, and you love it.

Outside the half closed door, the tiniest clatter echoes through the hall. The sound of him swearing in a surprisingly sweet tone, a bang on the counter. He mumbles something else, and the walls of this apartment are thin, so no room for secrets. He’s making breakfast.

Hearing him gives you the boost you need to get yourself out of your tangle of blankets, but before heading to the shower, you open the curtains a few inches to let in a warm stream of sunlight. The room is tidy, save for a small pile of dirty laundry on your side of the wardrobe. As much as you try to mimic his good habits, that one hasn’t really rubbed off on you yet.

Another bang from the hall makes you jump, and you wait a moment for more. Instead, the steady swell of music fills the house.

———

“Minnie, I would’ve done that!” You emerge from the bathroom in a plume of steam, and he’s there, snapping the sheets and blankets smooth again.

“Liar.”

“I thought you were making breakfast, I heard you dropping things out there.”

You wrap your towel tightly around you and head for the pile of clean clothes you’ve yet to put away.

“I did,” he says, turning from the bed to look at you. He runs a hand threw his hair. His natural color, you think, looks best on him, but it rarely stays that way. So you enjoy it while you can. “You know you take very long showers.”

All you give back is a goofy smile, and he returns it before sitting on his freshly made bed. He eyes and nose crinkle dramatically with his smirk, and you feel your face warm up as you turn your attention back to getting dressed. The towel slips to the floor as you fumble with your things, and his eyes are on you. You don’t look back, but you feel his gentle gaze press against your skin, and you blush even more. He’s seen you like this more than a few times, and it should feel natural, but he manages to make stupid little things like this feel brand new.

The music he put on earlier still trickles into the room, louder now that the door is wide open. You slip into your t-shirt and shorts just in time for his arm to reach around your waist and pull you against him. His body is as warm as the shower you just climbed out of. His other arm slowly snakes over your shoulders, and he pulls you even closer as he says something quietly under his breath—but you don’t quite catch it. You push your face into the bend of his elbow and place a kiss against his skin. He smells sweet, but not shower sweet. Just Seungmin sweet.

“You gonna be clingy today?”

“Me? No, never.”

His voice is airy and boyish, which you know is mostly an act, but every time he puts it on you get butterflies and your breath gets caught in your chest.

He lets out a sigh and his warm breath tickles your ear. Then his lips are hot against your neck. A tiny, innocent moan escapes you, making him pull you in even closer.

“Well…maybe you should be.”

You free an arm to reach back for a handful of soft hair. His lips part into a smile and teeth graze against you sensitive skin. But it only lasts a moment before his grip softens and he lets go, and the cool air of the room hits you.

“No, I’m hungry.”

When you look back at him, he cracks a smile that grows until his teeth part, and his tongue pokes out to lick his lower lip.

“Let’s go eat!”

You silently forgive him for teasing you as he leads the way toward the small kitchen. It’s already clean from whatever mess he may have made, but the scent of something savory is hanging in the air. Two plates have already been made up, and next to them, freshly made coffee.

He clicks the music off on his phone and replaces the sound with the television. You wait patiently for him to put on whatever drama he’s currently watching and join you at the table that sits halfway between the kitchen and living room. Seungmin put it in that spot specifically for this purpose.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be free today,” you mix your rice and eggs together in a messy pile before taking a big bite. Seungmin watches you as he drinks his coffee. “Unless you’re going somewhere dressed like that.”

He cocks his head to one side, and then the other as if he’s thinking, before shoving an entire fried egg into his mouth. It’s one of his favorite bed shirts, a little big and stretched around the neck. It’s hanging in a way that shows the curve of his shoulder and just a bit of collarbone.

“You don’t like my shirt?” He adjusts himself and his collarbone disappears underneath. The hair parted at his forehead falls forward as he examines himself and smooths a hand across his chest. When he looks up again, he’s looking at you through curtained eyes.

“No, I do.” You nod as you reach across the table and tug the sleeve down until his shoulder is out again. Before pulling back, you run the pad of your thumb up the soft angle of his neck and stop just underneath his ear.

Seungmin leans into it and his eyes begin to close. “Nooo you don’t, you just want the body underneath.” He combs his fingers through his hair again and licks his lips when his eye connect with yours again. He keeps a serious face for a long moment before his laugh breaks through and bounces softly around the room.

All you can do is smile back at him from behind your coffee cup.

“You do, right?” Now he’s leaning forward, elbows on the table, face cupped in his hands. He doesn’t realize how intense his gaze is, even when he’s just goofing around. The heavy, half-lidded eyes and upturned lips are fighting each other for dominance.

The silence in the room, save for the forgotten tv in the background, is only broken by the sound of your chair sliding back along the floor. “Do you want more coffee?”

Seungmin begins to squeak out a sound of protest, but stops himself and nods solemnly. He’s not very good at being teased, he can only dish it out. The difference between you and him picking at each other is he revels in it; but you can’t help but feel a little guilty every time.

As soon as his mug is full, you lean forward and place a long kiss on the top of his head. Than another on his temple. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. You manage one more on his cheek before he sweeps his head to the left and catches you with his lips. And he holds you there for a long moment, but it feels like you’re holding him there, so now it feel like a game of who’s going to pull back first. And neither of you like losing.

Seungmin cranes his neck up further, deepening the kiss. You open up a little, just enough to bite softly at his lower lip. He smiles, mouth now open against yours, but he doesn’t pull away. The taste of coffee is all over him. He shivers a little when you wrap your hand around the back of his neck and squeeze.

The soft groan he lets out goes right down your throat, and your knees feel like they might give out. You thought you could outlast him, but now you’re not so sure. You push forward anyway, because it feels like he can read your mind when you’re this close and you don’t want him thinking he can shake you that easily today. When you swing your body over his lap, he instinctively grabs your hip and steadies you on top of him, pulling you in and closing the gap between your bodies.

The force causes the front legs of the chair to lift briefly, and you get that dizzy feeling of falling, but Seungmin reaches for the edge of the table and avoids disaster. And he still hasn’t let go of your mouth. His tongue finds its way inside and you feel like you’re drowning. You cup both hands over his face and gently pull him away, inhaling like you’ve finally broken through water.

Refilling your lungs is almost distracting enough to ignore Seungmins proud grin. Almost. The skin around his lips is pink and already a little red from your teeth. His eyes shine up at you as he wipes roughly at his mouth with the heel of his hand, and his other kneads deeply against your inner thigh. It tickles at first, making you jump against him. But then his moan knocks the air right back out of you. There’s silence for a few moments; even the tv has gone quiet. You remove your hand from his face and slide it down his chest. He’s breathing heavily, and can hear the shakiness in his breath.

Seungmin is always cool and composed in these moments, but occasionally you time things just right, and the slightest touch sets him off like a firework. The noise that escapes him when your palm moves between his legs sends a shock of pleasure straight through you.

It makes you think he’s been waiting for something to happen; he’s been so busy for weeks and your time together has been limited—more limited than usual. He can’t always admit when he’s feeling needy, but he’s very good at finishing what either of you start.

His head falls back to expose his neck, and you dive into him. You can taste the saltiness on his skin, but he’s sweet to you. Always soft and warm and sweet.

Fingers slowly climb over your hips and up the small of your back. He’s walking them delicately across your skin until the hem of your shirt is lifted higher and higher. Goosebumps break out all over you, and he notices.

“Ooh, am I doing that?” He leans forward a bit and places a kiss on your throat.

You take the opportunity to run both hands into his hair, slowly raking your fingers through as you gently move your hips against him again. The union of both touches sends him into overdrive, and he pushes his face into your neck as a quiet whimper slips out.

You can help but giggle at his desperate little sound. “Minnie…”

“Don’t laugh at me.” It’s just a whisper, but you can tell that he’s got his innocent act going. He pulls back so you can see his face, but his eyes are closed and he’s biting down on his lip. He looks like he’s drunk, “Minnie what?” there’s a little attitude in his voice.

“Let’s move to bedroom.” You kiss lightly along his jawline.

Moving from the chair to somewhere more comfortable would be preferable, but using your legs now seems impossible.

He wraps his arms around your waist and sits up a little, almost like he’s testing out his leg and core strength. Seungmin doesn’t typically pick you up carry you places, especially not during sex. He thinks it’s cheesy. But sometimes necessity supersedes, and he rises to his feet with surprising ease. He hitches you up a little further and examines your surprised face.

“What?”

“Just, uhm…wasn’t expecting that,” You pull him closer until your cheek is nestled in his hair.

“Don’t be cute.”

“You first.”

“No,” he says matter-of-factly, and covers the short distance to the bedroom in a few long strides.

You prepare yourself to be dropped down onto it from his height—on par with his usual style of foreplay, but instead he sets you down gently on his side of the bed. He stands there for a moment, letting you look him over. The small bit of sunlight coming through the blackout curtains cuts him straight down the middle.

You start with his face, so serious and apathetic, but he’s not. His eyes give him away every time. His skin looks like honey in the gauzy light, and his oversized shirt clings to his skin, showing the long line of his torso. You grab a handful of his sweatpants and pull until his knee comes down gently at your side. Then his whole body is over you, palms pressed into either side of your head.

The shift in pressure where his hands and knees make contact, the change in temperature as he surrounds you, the soft sounds he makes while he’s thinking about what to do next…it fogs up your brain and you have to close your eyes for a moment. They snap open when you feel his hand snake under your shirt. He caresses the skin there as he lifts it higher, lips following up and up until he can get you out of it completely. His comes off next, messing up his hair in the process. That little grin when he shakes his head to fix it wakes you from your temporary stupor, and you pull him down by his hips until you can go after his swollen lips again.

His cock is hard against you, and you need to get out of your clothes faster. Your hand sneaks down to unbutton your shorts, but Seungmin stops you and works on the button and zipper himself. He tucks his thumbs into the waist of his pants and slowly tugs them down over his hips.

You watch eagerly, as if it’s not something you’ve already seen many times before. “Hurry up,” you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth.

He stops and looks at you, but his eyes are big and wet, “you’re so impatient.” He says it in his sweetest voice as he grabs your hips and pulls you a little further down the bed. He makes himself comfortable between your thighs and kisses slowly along the softest, most sensitive parts, purposely driving you crazy. Again he moves to your stomach, only kissing, but drawing every one out to be as long, slow, and wet as possible.

Your fingers disappear into his hair, grabbing gently but not pulling, then slide down to the nape of his neck to knead into the muscle. He likes that. He moans heavily as his tongue glides across your nipple and up until he’s at your collarbone.

“Seungmin?” It comes out in a heavy whisper. You brush the hair from his forehead and place a kiss there when he lifts his gaze to you.

“Hmm?” He props himself up on one elbow and stares down. The eye contact holds you for a moment before you run a firm hand along his stomach. Your fingers reach his waistband and continue forward until they graze the tip of his cock. He moans and rocks his hips into the touch so he can feel you more. “You want it?” His voice is husky, but needy. And it feels more like a statement than a question.

He knows you want him, but you give him a nod anyway before pulling his face down again to place kisses on his brow, and down the side of his face until you return to his lips. The bed shifts a little and you can hear the rustle of fabric, and then from the corner of your eye, his last piece of clothing falls in a heap next to yours.

“Yes,” you say it firmly, and little desperately, because the anticipation is becoming too much for you.

He always does this, though. He loves the wait. It doesn’t matter how hard he is and for how long. He’s so good at being patient.

The warmth of his open mouth on your neck and the slow, silky touch of his fingers sends your hips upward. You stifle a moan, making what comes out sound like a growl in your chest. He sucks against your skin, deep enough to leave a mark, and his fingers work even harder to make you roll beneath him. He moves his thumb it light circles over your clit.

“No no not yet…”

He stops and looks down at you with eyes that seems a little darker than they did a few moments ago, but nods. His hand wraps around yours and he lets you stroke him a few more times before moving himself into a better position.

When he sits back and looks down at you, your entire body is suddenly on fire; with lust maybe, or it could be a little bit of shyness. Being so vulnerable never seems to get easier, even with Seungmin. Sometimes when he leaves for too long and returns, it feels like something resets—it feels like that first time again.

“What’s the matter?” He crawls over you until you’re face to face, but one hand tucks under your knee and lifts slowly. The head of his cock moves over you. You can feel the heat coming from him. Something flashes in his eyes. The uneasy moment is shaken away by his touch.

“Nothing, pup.”

He uses his free hand to maneuver himself. “Good.” He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

He pushes himself into you gently, slowly, taking great care in feeling every bit of how wet you are as he slides deeper. This feeling of fullness is what you’ve been craving, and he knows exactly what you like. He makes sure to let you savor every second of it. That’s what he likes. Mouth hanging open…breathe shallow and hitchy. He needs to see what he does to you.

He pulls back, letting you get used to him, and then easily finds a pace. The soft moans coming from him drive you crazy, and a smile spreads across your face. He returns it with his own smile, throwing his head back for just a moment to let out a tiny laugh.

Sometimes he gets cute when he loses himself in pleasure. That smile is stuck on him now, and you love it when he’s not too serious. You take his hands into your own and pull him back down against you, making him laugh even more. But he doesn’t miss a beat fucking you, giggly or not. Seungmin nuzzles his face into your neck and gives you his most playful growl. His pace quickens when you wrap your arms and legs around him.

Lips find each other again, and Seungmin growls and nips gently as he kisses. Hips roll smoothly into yours, creating friction in just the right places, and the gentle rocking of the bed makes the contact between you so much more intense.

“Minnie…” you start, but your breath catches in your chest, and your brain can’t seem to form the words you need.

He doesn’t reply, though, just finds your gaze and holds you there. His eyes are half-lidded, but they flutter shut every few seconds. He’s trying to hold himself together, but you know he’s already getting close. You slow him down by putting a hand against his hip.

“Too much?” His eyes widen and his face softens.

“Slow it down…” You run your thumb across the skin below his lip, red and swollen from your bites. “Take your time.”

He listens, but the way he rolls his hips into you pushes you up toward the headboard with every thrust, and while he might be lasting a little longer now, you’re not sure you will.

A moan breaks the breathy silence. Seungmin’s moan.

He picks up his pace again—this time his hand reaches down and finds your swollen clit. Sparks go off behind your eyes the moment he touches you. Two fingers circle lightly at the same pace as his thrusts. Your legs open further, knees drop, giving him as much space and getting him as close as you can manage.

You want it to last, but you need to come. You slowly give in to his touch.

The only thing you need now is his full attention, and as soon as your eyes meet again, you fall apart. The last thing you see before your eyes roll to the back of your head is his cocky smile.

When your body finally relaxes under him, Seungmin takes the opportunity and grabs your hips. He lifts them, squeezes his fingers into you, and fucks hard. Faster and faster, still managing to find just the right spot, and you feel like you could come again. You wrap your legs around him and hold tight. A few more well timed thrusts, and the muscles of his stomach tighten—you feel his release in the way his body stutters for just a moment as he empties himself inside of you. He’s quiet until he finally exhales, and a long, satisfied groan comes with it. You can hear the breath catching in his chest and throat as he holds himself steady.

There’s more silence between you as he wipes a few damp strands of hair from his eyes. His fingers grab and slide from your hip down to your outer thigh. Only then does he pull back and free himself.

“Come here,” you use your other leg to nudge gently at his side.

He climbs over you and carefully lays his body next to yours, face in the bend of your neck. His arms reach around your waist to pull you closer.

Your wrap yourself around his shoulders, hands rubbing and scratching gently at is back.

Seungmin breathes in, sighs deeply, and relaxes against you. “I’m so hungry.”

#kim seungmin #skz seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz smut #stray kids smut #☾ blind date

[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 10 | Terrors

Summary: Late at night, Miguel confesses something that haunts him.

A/N: well, it’s time for me to post my bi-monthly part since I’ve been slacking sm lately. No good excuse, I’m not even sure if ppl read this anymore but oh well, enjoy

Warnings: smut, oral f-receiving

Word count: 8.4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You were sleeping peacefully when the sound of quick rustling startled you awake.

Something was thrashing beside you in bed, quick and panicked. You blinked your eyes open, your sleep-addled mind trying to process what was happening. You felt disoriented as you tried remembering where you were. The bed and sheets were most definitely not your own, yet they were somehow familiar.

Miguel. This was Miguel's bed.

Since your talk with him about being more than just fuck buddies, Miguel had actually kept his word. He communicated more about where he was, what he was doing, how late he'd be out. There were even a few nights like tonight where he'd let you stay with him in his room.

It was Miguel who was causing the rustling that now pulled you from your sleep. He was muttering something unintelligible as his legs kicked at the sheets. You rolled over to face him right as his form shot up from the bed. Through the darkness, you could hear his ragged breathing as he gasped for air, and you could vaguely see his silhouette hunched forward next to you.

Instantly, you felt awake and alert. Pushing yourself up from your pillow, you were immediately at his side. "What's wrong?" You asked, placing a worried hand on his shoulder. Under your palm, you felt the sweat that slicked his clammy skin.

Miguel flinched hard from your touch and jerked his arm away from your hand, still breathing in sharp, uneven gasps. Instead of replying, he turned his body away from you, ripping the covers off himself and moving to sit at the edge of the bed as he fought to steady his breathing.

You'd been in his position enough times to know exactly what was wrong. Nightmares had plagued you endlessly since the first time you lost someone you tried to save, and they didn't get easier with time.

"Lyla, turn the lights to 20%," you said softly. Immediately, a faint glow illuminated the room, and you could see Miguel's trembling body in the faint light. He was rocking back and forth slightly as whatever vision he’d had faded from his mind, and he didn't say anything as his heaving chest began to grow steady again.

You scooted closer to him but didn't touch him. You knew all too well that sometimes you needed a moment to understand that the terror in your chest was unsubstantiated, and so you gave him a second to deescalate before whispering, "Are you okay?"

He ran his hands over his face once before muttering, "Fine." He did not sound fine at all, but you weren't going to point that out to him. Instead, you carefully placed your hand on his shoulder again. He didn't flinch this time, so you slowly let it wander across his bare chest, wrapped your arm around him, and pulled his back against your body.

He still didn't say anything, but he lifted a hand to grab your arm and held it for a moment as a comforting gesture. "What was it?" You asked quietly, hoping that he'd open up to you. Under your palm, his heart was still racing, though he seemed to be calmer than before. He held onto you for a moment before letting his hand fall away, and he stood up from the bed.

"It was nothing," he muttered. "Go back to sleep."

You watched as he stalked over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Clad in only a pair of black briefs, his whole body was shining with perspiration in the dim light. He was clearly rattled by whatever night terror had taken over his sleep, but you knew he wasn't going to open up so easily.

Rather than listen to his order to go back to sleep, you waited for him to return. His face looked haunted and drained of color when he came back and slipped under the covers again. You slid next to him, snaking an arm across his torso and pulling yourself close to him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. Miguel tensed at your touch, but he didn't try pushing you away.

You settled in silence for a while. Tilting your head up to look at him, you saw he was staring absently at the ceiling above, not even trying to fall back to sleep again. You understood that, too—the fear of sleeping in case the same nightmare took over again. You'd lost hours of sleep that way, refusing to close your eyes to keep away the monsters that plagued your dreams.

You quickly realized that Miguel wasn't going to talk unless you did. "I have them too, you know," you whispered, breaking the silence around you. His face didn't change, and after a quiet moment, he replied, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Talking about it helps," you offered. "Even if it doesn't make them go away." You watched his face carefully for a reaction, hoping he'd open up. Still, his faraway gaze never shifted, and he gave a barely-perceptible shake of his head.

Sighing, you looked back down at his chest, littered with faint scars from his time as Spider-Man. You wondered about the stories of how he got them. No doubt it had taken years to accumulate them all, each one a tiny reminder of the amount of traumatic events he had lived through. You had your own reminders too, and not just the scars on your body.

"Mine are usually memories of people I couldn't save," you admitted quietly. "Sometimes, it plays out exactly as it happened, sometimes it's a bit different. I used to tell them to my best friend, and it helped."

Your throat tightened as you thought of your friend. She was the only one who had known about your secret life. She had been the one to confide in, the one who listened. Late at night, when you couldn't stop shaking from the nightmares, she would answer your calls, no matter how late it was or how early she had to get up the next day. She had done so much for you.

And in the end, you had failed her.

"Then, I couldn't save her either," you continued quietly, a slight warble in your voice, "and the nightmares got...so much worse."

You felt Miguel's head shift to look down at your face. It was now your turn to avoid his gaze. Guilt and shame washed over you as you replayed that terrible day, the day you lost the most important person in the world.

There was a beat of silence, and Miguel's hand slid under the fabric of your shirt and began slowly rubbing your back across your skin in a comforting gesture—ironic given that he was the one still shaking off the effects of his nightmare.

"My worst ones are about her," you finally managed to say, still avoiding his gaze. "It's usually her on the ground, dead—" you took a shaky breath, "—but then she looks at me and asks why I didn't save her."

Over and over again, she would say it, and even now, you could see the scene clearly. Her body, sprawled and broken, her dead eyes glazed over lifelessly while her bloody lips moved and ask, Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you save me?

A shiver ran through you at the memory.

"I just had that one last weekend," you confessed softly.

There was a pause, and you could practically hear Miguel putting together the fact that you had been with him then, in that very bed beside him. You had woken up shaking and nauseous, but since he had still been sleeping, you had let him be while you stayed up for hours without closing your eyes again.

Miguel finally broke his silence. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. You gave a weak shrug. "Same reason you're not telling me yours," you countered. "It's not easy to talk about."

He didn't reply, but he did pull you closer to him so that you were lying halfway on his body, one of your bare legs draped over his.

Neither of you said anything for a long while.

You reflected on what you had said to him. That was the first time you'd ever told anyone about that particular nightmare. What you had said before was true—it's not easy talking about the things that scared you the most. Even just recalling it out loud made you want to curl up in a ball and hide under the bed, but now, you couldn't deny that you felt lighter, less burdened, less alone.

"It was you."

Miguel's voice was barely above a whisper when he finally interrupted the silence. You raised your head to look at his face again.

"Me?" You repeated quietly.

"You—something was coming for you. I don't know what it was, but I knew it was going to kill you."

His fingers curled into your back like whatever phantom had plagued his dreams was coming for you again. You were silent, barely daring to breathe. You were afraid that if you so much as blinked, he'd clam up again and refuse to tell you what was lingering from his dream.

"I tried running to you," he continued slowly, "but every step, I pushed you further towards whatever...thing was coming for you. And when it got to you..."

He didn't have to finish his sentence. You could see from the shadow that passed over his face that whatever he had seen in his dream hadn't been pretty. He just sighed and stroked your skin slowly.

"Have you ever had that one before?" You asked softly.

He shook his head faintly, and you held him a little tighter. The first time having a particular nightmare was always the worst, the hardest to convince yourself it wasn't real. It was no wonder he shook you off before. In his confusion, he probably still thought you were dead.

"It's over now," you told him quietly. "I'm alright."

Miguel said nothing, his eyes still fixed determinedly on the ceiling. His absent gaze didn't waver for the few heartbeats of silence that followed your words, and you were sure he was replaying the vision of whatever darkness had consumed you in his sleep.

Lifting your head up from his chest, you tried to capture his gaze with your own, but he refused to look at you, almost as if he was afraid that your eyes would be as lifeless as he had seen in his dream.

You cupped his cheek with one hand and gently pulled his face to look at you. He didn't resist, and his eyes finally blinked and met yours.

"It's over now," you repeated softly, "and I'm right here."

Miguel took a moment to study your face, like he was trying to memorize every line and curve that made up your appearance. You didn't move, didn't flinch from his gaze, letting him see for himself the life that still flowed inside you.

After a few seconds, you lowered your lips onto his to let him feel the warmth of your mouth, the heat and desire you had for him. Miguel responded by subtly pulling your body tighter to his as he moved his lips against yours.

Breaking away from you gently, there was the faintest softening of his face. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured quietly.

You felt your face glow at his words. You understood that he meant more than just you being there with him at the moment. He was glad you were alive, glad you were with him through all the shit you both had to deal with.

"Me too," you replied before placing another quick kiss to his lips again.

Settling back down at his side, you casually traced your fingers over his chest. So many reminders, so many terrors. You thought about all the sleepless nights you'd experienced since becoming Spider-Woman, all the strange visions that came to you in your dreams.

"I once had a nightmare that I had to shoot webs out of my ass," you told him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

There was a pause before Miguel huffed out a single, soft breath. "You too?" He replied. Your eyebrows shot up. "You too?" you repeated in surprise, a smile pulling you out of the somber mood. "It must be a canon event for us Spiders."

Miguel hummed and looked up again, and even though there was still that lingering appearance of melancholy, his face seemed more relaxed now. Your ear was pressed against his chest, and you listened to his steady heartbeat. His hand still rubbed your back slowly, the feeling apparently grounding him back to reality.

"You should go back to sleep," he told you. You shook your head. "I'm not tired," you replied. "Are you?"

"Even if I was, I couldn't fall asleep," he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above. You nodded. "I get it."

Silence returned.

Your fingers continued stroking his stomach slowly as you replayed his words, and your chest felt warm by what Miguel revealed to you.

He was scared of losing you. The fear of it made stole his breath away and caused his body to quiver. His face had looked haunted as he recovered from his night terror. It was such an intense and visceral reaction to the idea of you dying.

Soaking up his warmth against you, you knew you felt the same way—the same fear, the same helplessness at the thought of losing him. You hadn't even realized how deeply you had fallen for him, hadn't realized how important he was to you until recently. It consumed you so completely that the idea of him not being here with you made stomach tighten nauseously.

Turning your head, you brushed a kiss to his chest. Just a simple touch, just to remind both you and him that he was there now. You felt him shift to look down at you, and you were somewhat surprised when he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for a moment before he breathed a sigh against your skin.

Facing up at him, you met his gaze in the dim light. His eyes took in your appearance, and you took in his. An understanding passed between you, one that acknowledged what you were feeling, the fear and anxiety as a result of your feelings for each other. One look that told each other everything you were too afraid to say.

Your lips met his in a soft kiss—slow, gentle, comforting. You broke apart for a mere second before moving into another one, and then another, until he was leaning forward and pulling you in harder against his mouth. Your hand rubbed against his chest more intentionally while his tongue teased at your lips, and you parted to let him taste your mouth with a small moan.

Your heart began pounding in your chest. Each movement he made was slow and sensual, and he took each touch to remind himself that you were alive. His hand roamed up your back to feel your warm skin, and your loud sigh was proof of the breath in your lungs.

Your hand wandered lower and lower down his abdomen, the hard muscles flexing beneath your touch. You reached the band of his briefs before you stopped. Any other night, you would've jumped on him without hesitation, but you found yourself pausing and wondering if making a move for sex was wise.

Pulling away from his lips, you whispered, "Would this make you feel better?" You didn't need to clarify what you meant.

Miguel's eyes were half-lidded as he stared at your face. A faint smile pulled at his lips, the first crack in his wall of gloom, and he raised a hand to brush his fingers across your cheek. "It definitely wouldn't hurt to see," he breathed in reply.

A smirk pulled at your lips. "It could hurt if you want it to," you mused. "Just a little bit." His lips curved up a little more at your implication. Before he could reply, your hand pressed down on his cock over the materials of his briefs.

Miguel bit back a groan. You rubbed your hand over him with tantalizing slowness, watching his face as he closed his eyes and pressed his head back. Kissing his exposed neck, you reveled in his pleasure and pushed down harder against him.

"It doesn't have to hurt, though," you continued quietly in his ear. "It can be soft and gentle." You kissed him again just under his jawline. Under your palm, you could feel him growing hard. You smiled at how your words and some simple touches made him crave you.

"Or it can be hard and rough," you continued, your hand pushing down against him harshly, and you nipped at his ear. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath and pushed his hips upwards into your hand. He groaned your name softly, and just the sound of it made your core grow hot.

You slipped your hand under the black material that strained with his growing bulge. Miguel's breath stuttered as you wrapped your fingers around his hardening cock. "We can do it however you want," you finished with a smug grin.

You could feel his jaw clench under your lips. "Fuck," he breathed softly. You let the single word fuel your movements. You squeezed tightly as you slowly pumped your hands up and down his length. Another soft groan sounded in his throat, and he turned his head to kiss you again.

Still stroking him steadily, you broke away from his lips to ask, "So, how do you want it? Gentle or rough?"

His breath was hot against your mouth before he murmured, "Why choose when we can do both?"

A wicked smile grew on your face, and in a heartbeat, your lips were crashing down on his, devouring and exploring every inch of him. Your hand followed after your mouth's eagerness, stroking him with a stronger need.

Miguel pushed his hips up off the bed in encouragement, and in the same motion, he tugged off his briefs to free himself from the constricting fabric. Now, you could see his full length, so large and stiff that it made you ache.

Your breath grew heavy as your hands continued smoothly sliding up and down his cock. Turning your head, you nuzzled your face beneath his jaw and sucked at the skin of his neck. Miguel seemed utterly paralyzed, and his deep moan tickled your lips.

"Relax," you purred. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Miguel's hand moved under your shirt—his shirt, actually—and up your back. His callouses felt rough against your skin, and they wandered across your body and pulled you closer to him. You nipped gently at his throat, and Miguel's fingers dug into your back.

"Does that feel good?" You asked smugly, already knowing the answer. He nodded in response, his eyes closed tightly as his chest heaved uneven breaths.

"Talk to me," you implored in a smug voice, never slowing your hand's pace. "Does it feel good?"

Miguel was trying his best to answer you, and through his stuttering breath, he managed to sigh, "Yes. God, yes."

You loved the desperate edge in his voice. It sent a thrill running up your body. You lowered your face from his neck to his chest and placed long, wet kisses all over him. A growl sounded in his back of his throat. When you glanced up at his face through your lashes, his eyes were closed, and his head was straining against his pillow as his muscles flexed in pleasure.

"I love hearing you," you murmured against his skin, never ceasing for a moment the stroking movements of your hand. "It makes me so wet, every sound you make."

Hearing your words, Miguel actually moaned, and he pushed his hips up into your hand. The sound went straight to your core. Your blood was growing hot, and the deep throbbing between your legs was almost unbearable. You squeezed your thighs together to try and gain some relief, and you let out a quiet moan of your own.

Miguel must've heard you because something in him snapped. His eyes fluttered open, and he pushed himself up to capture your lips. Your hand increased its pace as Miguel explored your mouth with desperation.

He broke away from you for a second and gasped softly, "I need to feel you."

You smirked and lifted yourself up off his body. His impatient hands began tugging at your shirt, and you had to move your hand away from his cock to allow him to rip it off your body. With the shirt gone, you were left in only a pair of underwear.

Miguel was eager to feel you. He rolled his body onto yours and settled between your legs. As he hovered over you, he had one arm planted on the bed to support himself while the other wandered up your body, feeling your bare skin beneath his palm.

Another soft moan escaped from your lips as his rough hand slid over your body, kneading at one of your breasts as his lips latched onto your neck. Your thighs squeezed around his hips reactively when you felt his hardened length nudging against the soaked fabric of your underwear.

Your desperation to feel him inside you was overwhelming. Letting go of Miguel, you started tugging at the band of your underwear. He knew what you were doing, and so his lips broke away from your neck as he hooked his fingers around the top of your underwear. Sitting up off your body, he pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside.

Miguel stayed sitting upright for a moment, drinking in the sight of your bare body before him. Even in the low light, you were able to see how his eyes burned with desire, how they took in every inch of you with longing.

You looked up at him, too. His body towered over yours. The contours around his muscles were exaggerated by the soft light overhead, making him look like a god. His dark hair was mussed, and strands of it had fallen over his face. Between his powerful thighs, the sight of his cock made you ache.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how good you look," you said softly.

Miguel's eyes flicked up to your face, a small hint of surprise in his expression. You didn't praise him often enough, you realized. So often, he was the one idolizing your body while you were rendered speechless from his touch. Seeing him now with his god-like physique, you realized Miguel deserved to know how much you loved being with him.

Sitting up, you ran a hand up his sculpted body, feeling the muscles underneath his warm skin. He flexed reactively as your fingers skimmed up to his neck, and you pulled him into another slow kiss.

With your other hand, you reached down and stroked his cock. Miguel let out a low moan against your mouth, making you smile. "I don't think I'll ever get used to how good you sound," you whispered, pulling him back down to the bed.

He followed after you eagerly, his body hovering over yours as he continued kissing you ravenously. Despite being on top of you, Miguel was following submissively with your every physical direction. He was propped up on one elbow while his other hand held your thigh. His body was practically trembling in anticipation while your hand continued stroking him slowly, but he remained hovering over you and waiting for your permission to enter you.

You were just as anxious to feel him inside you. Pulling his head down with one hand to kiss you again, you guided his cock to your soaking entrance.

"Now, remind me of how good you feel," you told him quietly.

Miguel didn't need any more prompting. In one smooth movement, he pushed into you. Your head fell back against the bed with a loud moan as his cock stretched you out. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he felt the wet warmth of your pussy around him.

"Mierda," he breathed against your neck as he began pumping long, smooth strokes into you. You couldn't even speak from the pleasure that overwhelmed your senses. The most that you could do was force yourself to take ragged breaths while Miguel continued rolling his hips into you, in and out, over and over.

He whispered your name as he pushed himself into you over and over again. You whimpered softly. At the sound of it, Miguel's lips came crashing down against yours, and his tongue explored your mouth with a growing desperation.

"More," you whined into his mouth. "I need more."

Miguel groaned. His movements evolved from strong, steady strokes to relentless, harsh thrusts. You cried out as the sound of him pounding into you echoed around the room, his cock sending pleasure pulsing through your body.

Miguel shifted his body above you. He pushed himself up off his elbow and up onto his knees. With his hands, he gripped you by the waist and hoisted your hips effortlessly into his lap, your back now arched with your shoulders still resting on the bed. Holding you firmly in place, he ever-so-obediently began fucking you mercilessly.

The air was snatched from your lungs as he began driving his cock into you with unrelenting desperation. One of your hand reached up and grabbed the edge of the headboard while the other clawed at the sheets.

Whatever amount of control you'd had over Miguel vanished, and any sort of restraint he'd had before snapped. His cock buried deep inside you and pounded against your G-spot mercilessly. Ragged cries tore from your throat as your whole body began trembling.

“Fuck,” you managed to groan, your fingers clenching around the sheets beneath you. Miguel was ravenous. His large cock stretched you out until it nearly hurt, and his fingers threatened to leave bruises on your hips.

“Like that?” He asked smugly, his words breathless as he continued slamming into you. You whined and nodded, your arms shook with the strain of their grip on the bed. Miguel leaned over your body while keeping your hips up on his thighs, one hand supporting him above you. His lips found one of your breast, and as he fucked you, his ran his tongue over your nipple.

Moaning salaciously, your body trembling as he completely overwhelmed your senses. In his throat, Miguel growled in approval of how you responded to him. His cock continued pounding against your G-spot, and he pulled his head up for just a second to watch your face before he bit down on your nipple.

You cried out as pleasure coursed through you, sending you hurdling into your release. You barely registered how you moaned his name as your climax took over your every faculty. Miguel noticed and gave a few more hard thrusts into you, drawing gasping cries from you.

You were seeing stars as you lost yourself in your bliss. Your body felt electric as Miguel slowed to a stop and pulled away from you, watching you slumped on the bed, unraveling underneath him.

"You look so beautiful when you cum like that," he panted, slowly moving his body further down the bed. "I can't get enough of it."

You moaned, unable to respond to him otherwise. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest, and you were gulping down deep, uneven breaths. He lowered his face to kiss your neck softly, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. He made you feel like a goddess, and he was your most faithful worshipper.

Your body was still trembling while he placed kisses between your breasts to your stomach. As he moved lower, your eyes fluttered open to look down at him. Through his dark lashes, Miguel was watching your face as his lips trailed lower and lower down your abdomen.

Your body shivered when you realized what he was going to do. "Wait," you gasped quietly, squeezing your legs together around him. Miguel paused right as he was beginning to wrap his arms under your thighs, his gaze restless. He seemed to be exerting all his will to obey your single-word command.

"It's- I'm—," you fumbled for the right words in your unfocused state. Damn him for melting your mind like this, any semblance of rational thoughts shattered by his cock. Taking a steadying breath, you managed to say, "I don't think I can take that right now."

You knew exactly what he could do with his head between your legs, but you were currently still piecing yourself back together, and the thought of him ravaging you with his tongue while you were still coming off of your climax seemed torturous.

Miguel didn't move, but you could see in the dim light how his eyes flashed with need. "I'll be gentle," he promised in a low voice. "I'll go slow. I just want a taste." He shifted, and you noted the restless movement along with the desperate edge in his voice when he added, "Please. Just a taste of you."

Fuck. There was no way you could say no to the sounds of him begging.

In silent reply, you relaxed your legs. Miguel slid his arms under them, his powerful hands gripping your thighs as he pulled them open, baring your soaked cunt before him. His eyes never left yours as he lowered his face down and took a long stroke of his tongue up your pussy.

You couldn't suppress the cry that wrested from your throat. Your whole body felt like it had been set on fire as he licked at you again, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he tasted your desire for him. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your legs fought the iron grip of his hands.

Slowly, gently—just as he promised—Miguel explored your pussy with his mouth. His tongue trailed between your folds, avoiding the very top where your swollen clit was still too sensitive for his touch. You sighed at the feeling, the warmth of his tongue sending delightful shivers across your body.

Moving lower, he slid through your wetness until the tip of his tongue teased the outside of your entrance where his cock had been mere minutes ago. Your breath hitched at the feeling, and Miguel took that as a sign to push his tongue in as deep as it could go.

Your back arched off the bed as he pushed into you slowly again and again. You moaned his name as he tasted you so passionately. Miguel's hands pulled your legs open further while he fucked you just like that, his tongue sliding in and out of you at a pace just inside of what you could handle.

"Mmm, Miguel," you whined, one hand gripping at his hair while the other reached for the headboard again.

It felt so good, impossibly good. Everything he did to you made you wonder how he could possibly be real, how he could possibly be with you. Your first time together, you hadn't thought it would ever happen again, let alone evolve into what you had now. What had started as a one-time fuck was now a constant need to be with each other, to hold each other close and never let go.

Your hips began shifting restlessly under his mouth. Your very blood felt as if it were on fire. Already, he had brought you from being overstimulated to craving another release.

Miguel lifted his face from your pussy for a moment. His glistening lips were parted as he panted lightly, and his eyes were glazed over with lust.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. "I could eat you out every day if you'd let me." You moaned softly at the thought of it. "I'm not stopping you," you replied breathlessly.

His lips curved up into a smirk before he lowered his head down again to drag his tongue up your cunt, carefully testing your sensitive clit. Your body squirmed under his firm grasp, and you gasped at the hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Miguel seemed satisfied by your reaction. He took another slow stroke over your sensitivity again, trying to gauge how much you could take now. To answer his unspoken question, you groaned and pressed his head down harder. You felt more than heard his deep chuckle at your wordless instructions, and he obliged you by sealing his lips over your pussy and pressing his tongue against you.

You writhed on the bed, your thighs straining against his hands as he ate you out with greater fervor. Your whines and sighs filled the room, and your grip on the headboard tightened to an almost painful degree.

Miguel sucked, licked, and wholly devoured your cunt. You could feel the pleasure beginning to coil deep inside of you, and he seemed to read it in how your body struggled in his grasp. Falling into a steady pace of strong, even strokes, he moved tirelessly to earn more moans from your lips.

Your fingers gripped his hair tightly, and you glanced down at his face between your legs. His dark eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, completely pussy drunk. In them, you saw his utter surrender to your taste and the complete abandonment of his restraint.

Despite your legs still struggling under his grasp, he released one hand from your thigh, and before you could understand what he was doing, he inserted two fingers into you.

Your hips arched off the bed as a shuddering cry tore through you. His fingers curled inside you, working in tandem with his tongue still swirling around your clit. His pace was unrelenting, desperate, like he needed you to fall apart as much as he needed to breathe. Every nerve was on fire as you felt yourself completely lose yourself in the pleasure of his mouth and fingers.

You might have been screaming, you weren't sure. Every thought and scrap of awareness was washed away by the tidal wave that was your orgasm. Your body felt like it was shattering, and you lost all control of yourself as you lifted your hips off the bed with trembling effort. Miguel stayed securely attached to you, his tongue and fingers working you through it with a final desperation.

"Miguel!" You cried out as you struggled against him, your pleasure an overwhelming force that threatened to tear you apart. He slowed his hands to a gradual stop and raised his head up off of you, his eyes drinking in the sight of you unraveling under him.

"Beautiful," he purred, watching your body as the trembling finally eddied away. "Did that feel good?"

You were still gasping for air, and it took every ounce of your focus to reply, "Yes. Too good. I—I'm gonna need a minute."

His lips curved into a self-satisfied grin, and he placed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I'll take my time," he replied smugly. He placed another kiss a little higher, and then another on your lower stomach, until he was trailing his lips slowly up your body.

You groaned as he moved higher. Your body was thrumming with the aftermath of pleasure, and you were still breathing heavily when his mouth pressed over one of your breasts. You shivered at the touch of him, his warm tongue swirling around your nipple in lazy circles while his hand palmed your other breast with greed.

"You're insatiable," you groaned. You heard him chuckle quietly. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he said against your soft skin. You hummed, unable to keep the smile from growing on your lips. "It's not," you replied, "but I might not be able to walk tomorrow."

Miguel turned his face up to look at you, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "You need me to carry you around the base?" He asked in amusement.

You actually laughed at him. "Mmm, no. I'd hate to hurt that hard-ass reputation of yours," you told him. He hummed thoughtfully, pressing another kiss to your breast. "I think your reputation would be the one at stake," he replied. "After all, what would people think about you being with a hard-ass like me?"

You chuckled, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. "They'd be jealous," you stated. "I mean, half the Society wants to sleep with you, and the other half is lying about not wanting to."

That earned a low laugh from Miguel, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Well," he began slowly, bringing his face up to yours, "I don't want to be with half the Society, or the other half." You smiled up at him, your eyes never leaving his as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Just you," he whispered.

You held his stare and soaked in his presence, the lingering hum of pleasure in your body, the feeling of his heat pressed over you. Your hand slid down from his hair to cup his cheek. If you could stop time and hold onto a moment forever, it would probably be this one.

Gently, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him. Your taste still lingered there, and after a second, you broke away to whisper, "I was hoping you'd say that."

He chuckled, and before he could respond, you pulled him back into a deep kiss. He parted his lips to slide his tongue against yours. You made a soft noise, and your lips moved against his smoothly, your kisses running together until your breathing grew heavy again.

Miguel, you could tell, was more than eager to be back inside you. His hand palmed your breast hungrily, and his whole body moved with anticipation. You quickly realized, however, that he was still holding out, waiting instead for you to give him permission to continue what you had paused.

You shifted your hips up to him, moaning softly when his cock brushed against your entrance. His breath shuddered, and he looked down at you to read your face. You nodded, answering his silent question before kissing him again.

You moaned into his mouth when he pushed into you once more. He moved slowly, so slowly inside you. Every thrust was long and deep, like he was trying to feel every inch of you. Your breathing was heavy as your fingers dug into the skin of his back.

The pace he set was vastly different than before. His pace was controlled and even, withdrawing all the way to the tip before pushing all the way to the hilt. This wasn't just fucking, you realized—it was love-making. Watching your reactions, waiting for your command, doing everything in his power to please you—Miguel completely encompassed what it meant to be a lover.

He broke away from your lips after a moment to catch his breath. You were both breathing hard, and as he continued moving steadily inside you, his eyes blinked open. They met your own, and he stared down at you with something like reverence in his gaze.

"I'm glad you're here," he gasped softly against your lips.

Your heart skipped a beat as he repeated his words from before. It was one thing hearing it in the quiet calm of lying together, but in the midst of the heat and passion, hearing them again gave them more weight, more substance. Even as he was deep inside you, he was still thinking about how grateful he was for you, that you were with him.

"I'll always be here," you promised quietly.

He let out a soft grunt at your words, his hips driving into with more force. Your eyes rolled back into your head as your whole body moved with each thrust. The rhythmic slapping of his skin against yours filled the air, and you couldn't help the quiet whine that left your throat as he pushed so deeply into you.

Your lips met his again in a desperate kiss. His hips thrust into you harder and faster now. You gasped as he pushed into you with greater need. The feeling of his cock moving deep inside of you was driving you insane, and your desire felt insatiable.

Miguel lowered his head to your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin as he continued passionately driving his cock into you. You felt his teeth graze against you, and a small whimper sounded in your throat. He growled at the sound and nipped gently at your flesh. You gave another small cry at the sensation, your fingers digging into his skin.

"You're so responsive," he murmured without lifting his head. "Every noise you make drives me crazy."

You moaned again for him. "It's because you feel so good," you whispered to him. "God, how do you always feel so fucking good?"

He groaned, thrusting into you over and over again with endless passion. Under his breath, he whispered your name. You could feel his hand sliding up your torso, until at last it found your own hand. His fingers entwined in yours and pinned it to the bed above your head.

You stared up at Miguel when he rested his forehead on yours. His eyes were closed as he fully immersed himself in the pleasure of your cunt. Small grunts sounded in his throat as he moved passionately in you, growing more and more hungry for his release until he couldn't hold back his sounds anymore.

With every thrust, he groaned softly in your ear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to push deeper. You could feel how the hand that was entwined in yours trembled, and his arm that supported him above you buckled at the elbow.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice taut. "I don't think I can last—"

You didn't let him finish his sentence before you yanked his mouth down to yours again. His moan tickled your lips as your tongue slid against his, and he shifted his body to release your hand. Before you could mourn the loss of that intimate connection, Miguel's hand drifted down your body until his thumb brushed just above where his cock was moving in and out of you.

You gasped as white-hot pleasure shot through you. Your thighs trembled with every circle he made over your clit, in time with each drive of his cock. Digging your fingers into his skin, you held him tightly while you cried out at his perfect touch.

"Oh god, Miguel," you whined, unable to say anything else. His thumb worked rhythmically, pressing down just hard enough that your hips bucked against him. He was breathing hard above you, thrusting with deep, hard strokes.

Your body tightened, and your breathing was growing shallow. You could scarcely think about anything as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge of your release. Miguel, you knew, was also growing closer based on his grunts of pleasure.

You managed to look up at him and were immediately captivated by his face. His dark hair had fallen over his forehead which glistened with sweat. His full lips were parted as he panted, and his eyes were focused on you. His gaze was electrifying, and as he stared down at you, he whispered your name so softly, so reverently, that you could barely hear it over the sounds your bodies were making.

That was all it took to send you over the edge. You were barely able to make more than a strangled cry as your climax racked your body. Every nerve was set ablaze as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure crashed over you. Your back arched off the bed, and you pulled him down in a tight embrace, your shuddering body pressed against him.

Miguel became ravenous at the sight of your undoing. His hand moved quickly from your clit to wrap under your back as he gave himself over to his desire. His hard thrusts had you clawing at his back, completely overwhelmed with the sensation of his cock slamming into you.

Just as you were coming down from your high, Miguel found his. His body tensed and stilled, a loud, gasping moan filling the air as he spilled himself inside you.

Your body still trembled against his while you both gasped for breath. His skin felt hot and alive, and in the stillness between you, he pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck. Against your chest, you felt Miguel's erratic heart hammering in time with yours. You moaned as he rolled his hips into yours with a few lazy thrusts before he pulled out of you entirely.

You remained sprawled out on the bed while Miguel collapsed next to you with a grunt. For a while, it was silent except for the sounds of your heavy breathing. One of your arms was pressed against his, and the other was draped across your face as you recovered from the intensity of what he had just done to you.

Noticing your posture, Miguel turned to you and brushed his fingers across your cheek. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.

You huffed out a breath, your arm sliding off your face as you looked at him with a smirk. "You just made me cum three times," you told him. "I would say I'm better than okay."

His lips tilted up in a smile at you, and his eyes studied your face intently, taking in every detail of your features. You remembered then why he was even awake, how you were startled from sleep by his thrashing. You had almost forgotten about the terror you had seen in his face earlier that night.

As you leaned your face into his hand, you asked, "Are you okay?" He considered you for a moment, his subtle smile still on his lips. "I just made you cum three times, I'm better than okay," he replied smugly.

Your smile widened, and you rolled your eyes. "You're unbearable," you mumbled, causing him to chuckle. His fingers still traced over your skin, and he added quietly, "I'm always okay when I'm with you."

Your face softened. In the low light, you could just make out his features, the shape of his lips, the angle of his cheekbones, the honesty in his eyes. He was only ever like this, open and vulnerable, with you in bed, still coming off of the high of an orgasm. Outside of sex, he mostly interacted with you through sharp wit and banter. This was the only time he ever lowered his walls enough for you to see soft side of him.

Instead of responding to him, you moved closer until your lips met his gently. You held the kiss for a moment before resting your head down on the pillow next to him, looking into his face with admiration. He stared back at you for a moment with a faint smile on his lips until he closed his eyes as his smile faded, and he let out a deep sigh.

"Hmm?" You hummed questioningly.

"Hmm?" He echoed back, his eyes still closed.

"That sigh—what are you thinking about?" You asked him.

The corner of his lips quirked up. "Maybe I'm sighing just to sigh," he pointed out. You gave a disbelieving scoff. "A likely story," you replied sarcastically.

His smile widened, and he finally opened his eyes to look at you again. You stared at each other for a quiet moment, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, he sighed again, and you smiled up at him questioningly.

"What?" You prompted quietly.

His faint grin disappeared from his lips, and his eyes roamed over ever inch of your face. "I just—I don't think you realize," he said at last, "the power you have over me."

You blinked in surprise. Whatever you had expected him to say, it wasn't that. Miguel must've read the emotions in your face because he smiled softly again and closed his eyes. "Too much power," he added quietly.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your cheeks grew warm. He so rarely ever admitted that he cared about you. Despite all the nights like these, sweaty and breathless, and despite the pretty things he’d say in the heat of the moment, and despite the special gifts and treatment he gave you, Miguel hardly ever expressed with words how he felt about you. So, when he did, you often found yourself flustered by those rare confessions.

"Well," you began slowly, "I've heard that with great power comes—"

Miguel groaned, cutting you off. "Don't finish that sentence," he grumbled as he pulled you over to him so that your back pressed against his chest. You giggled, knowing that Miguel had probably heard every variation of your mantra during his time in the multiverse.

He nestled his face against your neck and wrapped his arm around your torso. His warmth enveloped you, and his breath tickled your skin. You rested your arm over his, entwining your fingers together.

"You have power over me, too," you told him quietly. "Way too much."

Miguel didn't say anything in response. A small part of you wondered if he had heard you, but then, he placed a lingering kiss on your shoulder and sighed.

"You should get some sleep," he said at last. "I'm sorry for waking you." You chuckled. "Well, I'm not," you replied wryly, earning a huff of amusement from him.  "And I need to get cleaned up."

He grunted his understanding, tightening his hold on you for just a moment before pulling his arm away to allow you to slip out of bed to the bathroom. When you returned, Miguel had the covers pulled back up, and his breathing was deep and slow.

You slid between the sheets and curled against his side. Even as he was drifting off, his arms pulled you into an embrace. Your own eyes felt heavy now that all your arousal had been satisfied. As you drifted off into sleep, you couldn't tell if you imagined it or if he really did mumble one last time, "I'm glad you're here."

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man across the spider verse #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara smut #miguel smut #miguel fanfic #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel fluff #miguel ohara fic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel ohara x you

[wherenymphsroam]

hiiii throwing this wip away because I’ve read it too much and don’t like it anymore hehe

cw: sliiiiiiight somno dynamics, dubcon because he touches reader in their sleep, masturbation (reader), dirty thoughts, ID Leon in mind

Dusk has long since fallen and past by the time Leon steps through the threshold of his condo. He’s soaking wet from the pouring rain outside, and he can’t help but scoff at how he left a few weeks ago amid a storm. The climate of Washington was seemingly unrelenting in its persistence to stay sodden.

He shucks his leather off, hanging it up and ignoring how rain droplets start to drip and gather into a puddle on the floor beneath — he’d deal with that in the morning. He was too busy clicking his belt loose, popping the first few buttons of his shirt as he stalks through the apartment with one destination in mind.

Stood at the bedroom door within the next few moments, he finally has half a mind to toe his shoes off. You know, the same ones that just left tracks of water through the house. Again, something ‘morning Leon’ would deal with in a few hours time. He is, however, more worried about the curled up form tucked under the covers of his bed.

“My little bed warmer,” he can’t help but chuckle to himself, his lips tugging up in the most genuine way they have in probably weeks. Stepping further into your shared bedroom, he finally rids himself of his button down, slipping out of the sleeves and folding it over a nearby desk chair on his way to the bed.

He stands there for a minute, gazing down at you adoringly. In reality, this last mission was far from one of his longer ones. It was just a few presidential appearances down in Philadelphia, then an incident in Chinese waters that had tied him up this time. A few weeks at best. But it didn’t diminish how tired he was, having to up and stride right into one mission after the last on the flip of the Presidents dime.

Sometimes, he wonders how he does this; being dragged around by the government and plopped wherever in the country. He was sure his body had probably aged at least ten years in advance internally by now. But he’d worry about that later. Because suddenly, he’s soothing a rough palm over your shoulder, sliding his hand under the hem of his t-shirt you donned.

“Taking a walk around my closet again, huh?” He coos down at your sleeping form, talking more to himself than you. He knows you can’t hear him, that you probably don’t register his fleeting touch.

You’re warm, pliant under his worn, weary hands. He barely restrains the shudder of delight that courses through him, melting and relieving him of all the undue stress the past month or so had served him. The feeling of your skin was like a stress reliever in of itself, your body his favorite piece of art to get lost in.

God, he was glad he was home.

Dancing along the soft slope of your shoulder under the material of your sleep shirt, he slides the sleeve up, eager to get a glimpse of any more of your skin. The groan that leaves him is unintentional, unable to be held back as he thumbs circles into your pliant bicep. Sharp eyes flick up to your face, looking for any signs that you’re waking up. And sure enough, you’re laid just as peacefully as you were when he walked in, your breathing steady and soft.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself coaxing the duvet down your torso, off your chest. ‘Just…. A bit more couldn’t hurt’, he tells himself. He ‘just wants to see you, that’s all’, as he slides the duvet down to pool around your hips now.

Leon’s has never considered himself a needy man. Not by a long shot. He’s not needy, and he didn’t miss you. No, he’s just cold. That’s why he’s slipping his hand now up the hem of your shirt, flattening his hand against the warmth your soft stomach provides.

He sighs, heavy and long, exhaling the weeks long amount of bullshit he had worked through yet again. Between stiff collared meetings with officials, unpredictable debacles, and rounds of combat, his nerves were shot.

Yet, your skin is warm, soft, inviting all the same.

Every time he steps back through the threshold of the apartment you share, it doesn’t matter what he saw, what he had to go out and do that go around. Because he knows that’s you’ll be here, soft and warm and eager for him, like his own personal piece of heaven. He could count on you to welcome him back into your arms, to take the weight of his weary body and heart into your hands.

“I don’t deserve you sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your temple.

One press of his lips turns into two, three, four. His kisses create a line down your jaw, smattering along your skin with affection.

With each connection his lips make with your skin, he finds himself lingering longer, his lashes fluttering shut, his brows knitting as he breathes you in. Unashamedly, he presses his nose into your cheek, under the hook of your jaw and inhales greedily, the scent of your shampoo and body wash you likely had only rubbed into yourself hours earlier making his cock swell in his pants.

Muttering a curse under his breath, his breath fans hot and shaking down your neck. Glancing up at your face for a moment, he concludes you’re likely in your deepest state of REM.

Somehow, that acknowledgment only goads the quickly growing coils of shame of himself, twisting and tightening in his gut. You were fast asleep, pretty as an angel beneath him, and here he was, breathing you in like some rabid dog. He was a grown ass man, for God’s sakes. And all it takes was a month away from you knocked his sense of shame, or lack thereof, on its ass?

His hand stops dead in its tracks when his fingers begin to glide along the swell of your chest, having started to graze just the underside. It had seemed his hand had a mind of its own while he was too busy scolding himself.

“Christ”, he mutters to himself, brows pinching, his eyes dilating as your (his) shirt slides tantalizingly further up your torso. He drinks in every inch, every centimeter of skin that is exposed under the dim lighting of the room like a man starved.

Delicately, gingerly, his fingers find your nipple under your shirt, coaxing it to stiffen under slow and deliberate swipes of his thumb across it. It’s only a moment later when it starts to harden, drawing a rumble of delight from deep within his chest.

“So eager even in your sleep, huh?” He murmurs, breathless in his attempt to diffuse the tension wringing his stomach taut. It helps him feel better, if even for just a moment, knowing your body accepts him even in its most vulnerable state. Except the loosening of that band within him stiffens and stabs him in the gut a moment later, shame in himself razor sharp and blunt as it sears him.

What was he doing? You were asleep, likely exhausted from the day you may of had. This wasn’t fair of him, touching you like this when you don’t even know he’s home.

He can only grimace when his body betrays him, his tongue dips out to wet his lips — subconscious, hungry. He was starved, having gone weeks without your, your body, your touch, your smell-

Another deep breath in, and he’s noticing something else. Notes of tanged, old sweat, maybe by a few hours hanging in the air, clinging to your skin. A tackiness to your nape, your hair curled ever so slightly at the base. He finds himself pausing, eyes flickering over your skin.

The slope of your breasts under your night shirt, the way it’s slid ever so slightly off your shoulder. Upon tugging the duvet further down, off your hips, down your thighs, it’s only then that he pieces everything together. Sure, maybe you chose his shirt to sleep in because you missed him, because his cologne and musk was weaved into the cotton after use. It was an easy excuse.

However, he knows that’s not the only reason.

Inner thighs sticky, shiny with the drying evidence of your desire, your toy still nestled between your plush skin, it’s all far too incriminating. Maybe his sweet baby was a bit more desperate for him than he realized. A bit more perverted than he ever cared to give you credit for, getting off in his clothes.

Briefly, he wonders how long you were at it, how good it was. It must’ve been good, he wanted it to be. Was today specifically tiring? Was your climax that good? Or was it a mix of both that had you passing out before you could get cleaned up. That’s usually his job, cleaning you up after a long session. Not that he minds, not in the slightest.

But… he’s here now, right? Sure, you’re asleep now… and maybe he didn’t get the pleasure of watching the show… but it’s still his job. It’s the least he can do after being away for so long.

Right?

#ummmm yeah jus spitting this out here #was really excited abt this one but liiiike #ew it’s sat in my google docs for like two months now #three maybe #next ! #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #yaps. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚ #late night stroll.˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

[blackhairedjjun]

4:27 pm — c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: fluff, established relationship, reader coming home after a long trip | word count: 642 | warnings: pet names (baby), very brief mention of food

author's notes: i wrote this after coming home from a long trip myself (including a very exhausting bus ride) and the thought of coming home to someone like yeonjun to snuggle with was so nice :(

yeonjun hears you enter your shared apartment before he sees you. there’s the creak of the door being pushed open, the shuffling sounds of your feet dragging against the floor, the soft thud of your bags hitting the ground.

“baby?!”

he’s running toward you and you perk up just enough to register him. you look disheveled — there are dark circles under your eyes and your clothes are slightly wrinkled — but he doesn’t care. yeonjun pulls you towards him, engulfing you in a hug, and you melt into his arms as you let go of the last of your energy.

“missed you,” you mumble into his chest.

“i missed you too baby, so sooo much—”

he squeezes you even more tightly and the next thing you know, your feet are no longer touching the floor. he lifts you up and you yelp in protest. “jjunie, help!”

he lets out a breezy laugh as he sets you back down, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head. "sorry about that," he murmurs into your hair. “i felt so alone here without you.”

“i know, i'm sorry.”

“don't be, i know your work takes you places sometimes.” yeonjun leaves a few more kisses on the top of your head, then down to your temples. you soften even more at the sensation of his lips. “how was your trip?”

“i’m exhausted,” you say as you bury yourself further into his arms. it’s the middle of the afternoon and you can still smell traces of the cologne he usually wears; it smells like the summer breeze and like fresh linen. you sigh in contentment, and yeonjun can feel your smile from your face pressed against his chest.

he runs a hand through your hair. “you wanna take a nap?”

“yeah…”

the hours-long bus ride home took out most of your energy, and it was hard for you to relax when the inside of the bus was hot and the motion of speeding down the highways made your temples throb with a dull ache. all you want now is to lay down in bed with your boyfriend and curl the covers around the two of you.

yeonjun helps you towards the bedroom, one arm of his around your waist as you lean on him. you let him lift you onto the bed and tuck the covers around you; you can read how every action of his can speak volumes. i love you so much. let me take care of you.

once you've settled in, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face and leaves a gentle peck on your lips. “rest well, okay? i'll make you something good to eat for when you wake up.”

“you're not staying?��

you gaze at him and wrap a hand around his wrist, tugging him back to your bed. it's only been a few moments and already you miss the warmth of his arms around you.

again there's that breezy laugh of his that makes your heart swell. “you want me to stay with you?”

“mmhm...”

without another word he climbs up on the bed next to you, pushing the covers aside so that he can slide underneath. you feel his arms curl around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you roll close to him until your head is resting on his chest again. you feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing as one of his hands rubs circles into the small of your back. the rhythms entrance you back into a state of calm.

“sleep well, baby.” as you drift off to sleep you barely hear his next words: “i love you.”

you never get to say i love you too before you fall asleep completely, but yeonjun can feel it in the way you snuggle even closer to him in your slumber.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj originals

[luveline]

omg morning routine but with sleepy grumpy hotch (who most def does not wanna get outta bed) + a very jubilant slightly ditzy reader (who just wants breakfast) :]]

Thank you for your request! I focused more on Hotch not wanting to get out of bed, rather than their routine, I hope that’s okay! fem!reader

Aaron has stubble. Didn’t-shave-this-weekend, uncharacteristic for him stubble. You’re fascinated, holding a tentative, soft palm to the sharpness of it and rubbing slowly. It scritches into the quiet. His breathing is steady and deep; he snores with every other breath.

“Handsome,” you say, so quietly that it’s more of a wish than a real prompting, “wake up.”

He’s a light sleeper. Your minty breath tickles his cheek and his nose no doubt. You’ve already washed up for the morning, and you’d considered going to get something to eat and letting him sleep in because your stomach is aching and he never gets enough rest, but eating without him is boring. You’ll enjoy it much more, whatever it is, with his smile across the table and his ankle locked around yours underneath it.

It feels cruel to wake him. You kiss him, then, to soften the blow. Sweet, dainty kisses against the column of his throat. It’s not an entirely selfless thing, you really love kissing him, privileged to be this close, to sleep in his bed, and to feel his arm come to life as it curls around your waist, pulling you to him.

“Time is it?” he asks after a minute like that.

You hold his face between two hands like the warm heart of a star, totally and ridiculously reverent. It’s a good metaphor —sometimes, you look at him, and you think he’s the brightest point in the universe. Your chest soars with lightness.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

He smiles. You know it to be an unconscious gesture, sleep clouding his thoughts. “Too early, then?”

“It’s never too early for breakfast,” you say, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

He sighs and pulls you ever closer. You get what he’s saying without him having to open his mouth — Yes, it is, and I wish you’d let me sleep.

“You can go back to sleep if you really want to.”

His hand climbs over your hip and presses unapologetically into the soft bump of your stomach. You’d be insecure if he wasn’t obvious with his affection. His touch feels appreciative, thick fingers gently kneading your aching abdomen.

“You’re hungry?” he asks in defeat.

“Afraid so, handsome.”

“S’why I tell you to eat more at dinner.”

“I didn’t want more at dinner,” you say truthfully. You’d filled up on stodgy garlic bread because Aaron made the mistake of putting it out before the pasta, and Jack is a bad influence.

He looks at you seriously. You look back, his face still cupped in your hands, half on top of him at this point and worried you’re crushing his hip.

He leans down to kiss you.

“Alright,” he mumbles, grumpy but lovely all at once, “breakfast.”

He kisses you again, slow and imprecise, tip of his nose snug against yours. You melt under the sensation, fingers sliding into the short but soft hair at the back of his neck, letting out a little sigh that you know makes him happy to hear.

“I wish you didn’t know how much power you have over me,” he says.

You stroke his cheek with the back of hand, eyes pouring into his. They’re so brown they’re almost black in the dim light.

“Really?” you whisper.

His lips quirk up, the subtlest hint of a smile softening every line, every gorgeous feature. “No,” he says. “Not really.”

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n

[breeofbree]

Bed Rest

Shikamaru x f!reader

🔞MINORS DNI 🔞

Warnings: soft core SMUT, swearing, injuries

Summary: a lazy hang out turns to lazy sex (just a quick smut read for on the go. Simple, goofy, with a bit of filler episode humor)

To say I was beat from the mission was an understatement. Turns out, getting slammed in to the ground by your neck really does a lot of damage. My bed at home beckoned to me, plush, soft comforter and lots of space to stretch compared to the bedroll on my back that’s been used for two weeks. It was a dream to be prescribed three days of bed rest by the doctor. But upon opening the bedroom door, I notice a lazy soul already occupying my sweet bed.

“Move over, I’m tired.” I grunt out, slamming face first in to the long forgotten pillow that rest besides Shikamaru’s head. It was common to find him napping in a random spot when I’d come back from missions, sometimes the floor, or the front porch of my house. But my bed was a new one.

“Great to see you and your smart comments are still alive.” He sighs as I can feel his weight shift closer to me, grunting in pain.

I wince as I turn my neck to focus on his bruised face, “I hear you got a nice beat down yourself, champ.”

“Doctors orders for strict bed rest, a drag I can’t go outside and watch the clouds.” He mumbles out, his eyes fluttering slowly shut. I huff a small laugh out as a pinch of pain runs through my neck,” bed rest doesn’t mean an actual bed. It just means get sleep and not get in any fights, Shikamaru. Now get out of my bed so I can get my ordered bed rest.”

I’m only answered by slow and steady breathing, signaling he was already practically asleep. Leave it to Shikamaru to put his best effort in falling asleep. I can only sigh, gathering a pillow to go crash on my own couch in defeat. A slow hand stops me from brokenly standing up,” bed rest, not couch rest. Just lay down and don’t be awkward, damnit.”

“Awkward? You’re in my bed. You’re the only one making this awkward.” I huff out, slamming the pillow against his head and falling back down beside him. He drapes an arm over my side and grumbles,” stop complaining already, if you didn’t like it you would’ve forced me out the door by now, Y/N.”

His delicately placed hand sends electric pulses through my entire body, a sensation that was almost taboo to feel about a close friend. And the anger of him being right sets in.

“Shut up and put your hand somewhere else then, you’re distracting me.” I try to chastise him, resulting in it moving upwards and cupping my breast,” not what I meant.”

He chuckles slightly, close enough to my ear that it sends a shiver against my spine,” if I really wanted to distract you I would.”

His hand kneads slightly, oddly relieving other pains as the ecstasy of the intimate touch invades my senses.

“S-Shikamaru, what are you doing?” I yelp out as his other hand snakes its way under my body and to my other breast.

“I’m showing you what distracting really is.” He clips out, resting his heated face against my neck and nipping softly at it. My body acts on its own free will, arching my back into his body, and grinding my ass against his pelvis deeply.

“But we’re supposed to-“ I begin, being quickly cut off as his breath ghosts over the spot he just bit,” resting… I know.”

He pulls away, minding the sore spots as I moan in frustration,” and I can’t do that now that you’ve made a move on me.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve crossed a line. I’m too tired to think clearly.” He apologizes, quickly suggesting he went home.

“No! I mean, you just caught me off guard. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” I admit sheepishly, guiding his hands back to position. It was his turn to sigh, only this time it was relief… maybe even pleasure. His lower body rhythmically rolls into mine, boasting a defined bulge against me that grows harder with every touch. I can hear the soft moan in my ear and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from following suit.

“I’m pretty lame at the moment… I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” I breathe out, heart quickening with every motion. I suddenly realize it might be beneficial for the both of us as a moan finally escapes my own mouth,“But then again, I wouldn’t mind going slow and enjoying it. I find going slow is quite relaxing and a great way to promote rest.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself, or me, Y/N?” Shikamaru breathes out tiredly as my mind races. I whip around quickly, disregarding any aching pain and settle on top of him with a huff,” fuck it.”

My hands wander across his body, plucking and pulling at the fabric that’s separates us. It felt so wrong, yet so right to know first hand that the man who always complained about women could feel emotions such as intimacy. The friend I always slept or napped with, but never in an intimate way. The static charge of rubbing clothes courses through my finger tips, jolting through my body and down to my core. If I didn’t like him so much… if I didn’t crave or even need him so much, I might just feel guilty. But the feeling of his lips clumsily finding mine between closed eyes and rambunctious limbs fumbling around, felt a little too satisfying. We were both lazy at heart, never in a rush. And it showed as his lips took time against mine. Slowly pulling in my lower lip as his hand finds its way to squeeze against my ass, followed by a light smack. I use his slight distraction to nip at his lip, taking in the faint taste of an after mission cigarette drag. He sharply inhales, finding his bearings in gripping tightly at my hips. Shikamaru’s eyes flutter halfway open, hungrily staring me down as all thoughts escape my head in nervousness,” Y/N, are you okay?”

I shake my head back to reality, looking down at his pants line and back to him,” Y-yeah. Are you… are you okay with this?”

“Yeah.” He huffs a silent laugh as I work at his pants, finally receiving a helping hand as he pulls them below his knees. Shikamaru’s hips jerk as my hand delicately wraps around him, pumping softly and slowly, falling in to a rhythm with his breathing. Shikamaru tilts his head back, moaning slightly with a half cocked smile of bliss, jutting his hips in to each stroke as his face quickly flushes,” just don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, it’s my neck that bothers me. Not my hand.” I exhale, watching his eyes roll before they meet mine,” if it gets to be too much. Tell me to stop.”

I nod, taking a brief moment to slip off my pants that desperately need a wash after the mission and crawl back on top of him. I find the courage to sink down, the ache between my hips enhancing with each second I take to slide fully on to him. By the time I’m fully settled, it feels like my core is about to burst with ecstasy, until he lifts me slightly by my hips and slams me back down gently. A soft yelp escapes my throat from surprise, quickly hushed by his voice,” does that hurt?”

“No, it- it feels good.” I moan between thrusts, watching as his face contorts from pain to fits of pleasure and ecstasy. My head instinctively moves to fall back, quickly answered with a jolt of pain before Shikamaru goes taut and stops all movement,” Shikamaru, I said I was okay. Keep going… please.”

He nods, resuming his motion as I feel the familiar knot in my stomach, unfortunately dulled by the ebbing pain that seemed to rush back in uninvited. My eyes shut tight, spots flickering as my neck hurts and lower body goes numb in pleasure. My moan is choked out by Shikamaru’s own, followed quickly as his pace picks up, using the last of his energy to finish strong and rough.

“Look at me, Y/N.” He hisses out between his clenched jaw, forcing my eyes to obey and lock on to his before they wander once again with the sensation of pure ecstasy. With a guttural moan from Shikamaru, I can feel the hot ropes pulse in to me and his body becomes rigid once again. His head arches back in to the pillow behind him, his moan quickly becoming a whimper, and guilt makes me hope it’s from pleasure and not pain. I can barely manage to flop over beside him and try my best to hide the winces, but fail miserably.

“It was too much for the both of us, wasn’t it?” He sighs, eyes fixated on the ceiling as his hand rubs against his torso. I reach my hand to move his, taking his place to rub at the bruising area softly,” probably. But you always sucked at timing.”

His hand snakes upwards to cup the back of my neck and rub soft circles where it hurt the most, and his eyes slowly meet mine,” such a drag I didn’t do it sooner.”

I find my eyes fluttering closed at the lulling touch against my neck, being pulled slowly to rest my head against his chest and match his steady breathing,” I only let you because it was a pity to see you being the one in pain for once.”

“That’s a lie.” Shikamaru snickers, pinching my ear slightly with his free hand. I giggle back, tilting my head up to sleepily look to him,” and how would you know?”

“Never tell Choji secrets. Especially when you’re both drunk.” He answers, pulling me fully on to him with a grunt. My mind tries to gather any time Choji and I were drunk together, but falls short,” that’s a bluff. I haven’t been drunk with Choji for a long time.”

“Barbecue, sake, and wedding gift planning.” Shikamaru hints.

I then remember the night, sitting down with Choji and venting about not being able to find Hinata and Naruto a gift when my own love life was on the rocks. Sake goes down too sweetly after going through a break up just before a friend gets married. It was several weeks ago now, turning to Choji after Ino and even TenTen had come up short with ideas.

“Why don’t you ask Shikamaru? You two seem to think pretty similarly.” Choji huffs out, ordering the bottle of sake.

“The last thing we need is the two of us working together. It always ends horribly and you know that, Choji.” I cough out after knocking back several cups of the bitter and satisfying beverage.

“It’s because you like him.” Choji smirks, wiggling his eyebrows before ordering another bottle. Two bottles empty and halfway through the third one, I groan as my head slams against the table,” Choji, if I had the capability of liking anyone, why would you assume out of everyone in the leaf, it would be Shikamaru?”

“Because, Shikamaru is the only thing you talk or complain about when you’re drunk, even sober for that matter.” Choji points out, laying down more strips of beef against the barbecue. I bang my head against the table a few more time in frustration,” because that idiot doesn’t leave my head. It’s wrong to think of a friend that way damnit. Especially him.”

The next sentence is the one part I knew Choji took to Shikamaru in confidence,” we’re both too dense to just fuck and get it over with. Besides, sex takes effort and I use enough of that during missions.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that before…” Choji laughs, pulling a strip off the grill and finishing off the plate of beef. Everything afterwards is black as my hand reaches to finish the sake straight from the bottle.

“Oh no, he told you.” I groan, burying my head in guilt and embarrassment. Shikamaru only hugs me with a reassuring laugh,” everything.”

“Just wait until you hear what he told me what you said.” I lie, feeling as his breathing stops,” L-listen, when I told him about that little dream, I figured he wouldn’t say anything!”

“Choji didn’t really tell me anything, but now I’m curious about this dream…” I trail off, eyes becoming heavy as a yawn wracks my body.

“That’s a story for another time, we should get some actual bed rest.” He yawns back.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d try to argue with you. You win for now.” I mumble out, quickly letting the claws of sleep sink in to me. Before drifting off, I could feel his lips lazily drift across my forehead. I knew in that moment, I was too comfortable to complain or prod even further. I was content with being finally in his arms and getting some well deserved bed rest.

#shikamaru smut #shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru imagine #nara shikamaru #naruto fanfiction #naruto imagines #naruto smut #shikamaru imagines #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara #shikamaru fanfiction #shikamaru x you #shikamaru is a lazy king #Shikamaru

[mncxbe]

OKAY SO, IVE ONLY RECENTLY FOUND THIS ACC AND OMFG I LOVE IT SM, UR WRITING >>>>

okeyokey, so, i love cats, i saw the spicy cat hcs/scenarios and i thought VGAHIVAGYCFTUACTUYVGUAVGYU I LOVE IT, and uhm, so i so kindly ask u for more cat ability hcs/scenarios with Jouno and Tecchou, but this time more fluffy ones (omg imagine them finding out their s/o likes head pats and then purring VFGYCDRTCDRTCD), i would marry u frfr

anon we're married now duh🙄🩷 this was so fun to write hope u like it♡

2:59☆

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐, 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

°☆○

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

he doesn't care much about your ability tbh but he does find your personality adorable.

Jouno doesn't admit it easily but he likes how playful you are. devoted yet independent, just like a cat

you avoid shifting to your cat form at home because cat hair bothers him😭 if you leave hair on the couch he's gonna make you clean it with a lint roller

he absolutely loves it when you lay your head in his lap; he takes this opportunity to run his fingers through your hair and caress you gently. you often fall asleep like that so he has to carry you to bed♡

ironically calls you kitten💀

now hear me out now. he has a spray bottle and when you get on his nerves by being too clingy he sprays you

besides that he loves how quiet and collected you are. most people are clumsy, loud and unbearably annoying but not you. due to your ability you're naturally more quiet. except when he cuddles you...

It was one of those early December evenings when you and Jouno were tucked under a blanket on the couch, watching a generic, sappy Christmas movie.

"God how can someone come up with such a shitty script..." sighed your boyfriend, turning his head towards you.

The slow, steady rhythm of your heartbeat signaled him that you were fast asleep and he let out another sigh; this time softer, more sympathetic. He quickly turned off the TV and picked you up with ease, earning a sleepy groan from you- before tip-toeing to your shared bedroom.

Once you were both underneath the crisp covers Jouno finally allowed himself to enjoy a few minutes of silence. It's been a hard day at work; meeting, tiresome interrogations and if this wasn't enough he'd been paired up with Tecchou for a mission. He did his best to push all the dark thoughts in the back of his mind and closed his eyes, focusing instead of the sweet sounds you made as you tossed around in bed, sighing softly, breathing slowly; 1,2,3 inhale... 1, 2,3 exhale.

Soon enough, sleep crept up and he drifted closer to you. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he relished the welcoming warmth of your body. His chin came to rest on your head, fingers gently kneading your plush thighs.

Jouno was close to falling asleep when a sudden noise alerted his senses- a soft rumble, coming from you. He felt the light vibrations of your ribcage against his chest.

"You've got to be kidding me" he sighed, a tinge of amusement laced in his voice.

You lazily opened your eyes at the sound of his voice. "What babe?"

"You're purring again. And I can't fall asleep"

"'m sorry dear. You know I can't control it" you mumbled as you turned to face him. Snaking your arms around his waist you placed a chaste, apologetic kiss to his jaw and closed your eyes again, drifting back into your slumber.

Your boyfriend only hummed in response and sighed, fully relaxing in your embrace. Slowly but surely, the sound of your purrs lulled him to sleep.

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

he absolutely loves your ability. I get the feeling that he's a cat person?? so he adores you, quite literally, in all shapes and forms

Tecchou cuddles you a lot. in bed, on the couch, during breakfast when you sit on his lap; he just loves you

his heart literally melts when he hears you purring while you cuddle

sometimes you surprise him at work, sitting in front of the Hunting Dogs hq in your cat form- a little calico cat with a fluffy tail and emerald green eyes- and waiting for him to return from a mission so you can go out and have lunch together♡

baby boy is so soft when he sees you napping; and you do sleep a lot in your free time due to your ability. often when he comes home you're curled up under your blanket on the couch. he just sits down next to you and peppers your face with sweet kisses

still, due to your ability you're a picky eater, so you refuse to eat most of his strange food combos

"Come on Y/N. Just try it I promise it's good" pleaded your boyfriend in a sad voice, looking at you from across the counter with big, sorrowful eyes.

You shook your head in response, eyeing the mixture of soy sauce and chocolate pudding before you.

"Nuh uh. I ain't touching that". You crossed your arms over your chest, slightly tilting your chin upwards to make your point. Your mind was made.

"But angel I made it for you" sighed Tecchou, visibly disappointed. "Just a taste baby please"

You eventually gave in, rolling your eyes as you grabbed a spoonful of the questionable mixture and stuffed your mouth, instantly regretting it. The pudding tasted salty and had a mushy texture resembling sand on the beach. Still, noticing Tecchou's hopeful expression you did your best to swallow, feigning a smile.

"Wow it's actually pretty good" you said weakly, earning a sigh from your partner.

"You don't have to lie to me, angel. I can tell you don't like it". His amber gaze lowered, shoulders slumping in defeat and you huffed, leaning closer to grab his hand from across the countertop.

"Look baby. I appreciate you trying out new recipes for me. It's really sweet, but they aren't that appealing to me"

Tecchou looked up at you, thumb brushing against yours as he nodded.

"Aight, I got it" A smile finally tugged at the corners of his lips and you leaned in to kiss him, earning a satisfied hum. When you pulled away he was beaming again, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Say..." you began again, pressing one of your palms against his chest "You've got any more of that chocolate pudding left. The untempered one I mean."

Tecchou chuckled slowly and pointed at the fridge. "There's plenty left"

"How about we share it then?"

You grabbed the pudding from the fridge and a clean spoon before returning to your boyfriend. Prying the crisp aluminium foil off the pudding you scooped a spoonful and fed it to Tecchou, who smiled down at you.

"Well I can't deny it. It definitely tastes better than what I made"

You purr lightly in response, raising to your tippy toes to kiss the sweet taste of chocolate off his lips.

"See, I told you so"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #tecchou x reader #tetchou x reader #tetchō suehiro #bsd tecchou #jono bsd #jono saigiku #jouno fluff #jouno x reader #bungou stray dogs tecchou #bsd jouno #bsd headcanons

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Bed all day - Simon "Ghost" Riley*GN!Reader

Just a short fluff inspired by my favorite song

content warning: 18+, mdni, hand job, morning sex

You crack an eye open, groaning at the beam of light pouring into the room because you didn’t close the curtain properly yesterday.

Stretching to pop your spine, you walk to the window and pull the curtain tighter, avoiding any bit of light interrupting your peaceful Sunday morning.

Simon is sleeping soundly on the bed, you always had a bad sleeping habit of kicking your comforter and making it pool at the end of the bed. On normal nights, he makes sure to pull it back to cover you in case you catch a cold, but last night he didn’t, and you gladly see that cause it means he’s having a better rest this time.

You lay back on the bed, it sinks slightly due to your weight, making Simon stir, hands probing around to search your warmness, and he lets out a small sigh when you snuggle closer to him and let his arms pull you by your midsection and tuck you back to his chest.

Your ear and his heart are just separate by his chest bone now, and you can hear his heartbeats, steady like a marching song, while you feel Simon's finger drawing small circles on your back.

“Did I wake you up?” You mumble to him, receiving a grunt and a little shaking of his head, his arms secure you tightly to his figure, so you squirm into a more comfortable position, and this is how you realize something is prodding at your thigh.

“Simon...” Oh, now he’s tracing kisses down your neck, his movements are slow, still groggy from his slumber, the finger drawing circles on you just a minute ago starts traveling down your spine, hands sometimes groping at your ass, sometimes trailing down to give your thigh little squeezes, as if he can’t decide what he wants more.

A shuddering moan leaves his lips when your hands sneak into his boxers, he’s hard, and precum leaks onto your hand when you start stroking him slowly.

“Naughty little thing...” Simon's eyes finally open, you can see the blurriness in those caramel-like eyes, but his gaze is stuck to yours, while you just give him a little swipe on his tip and make him choke back his teasing quip.

“You started it first, babe.” Faux innocence on your pretty face only turns him on more, but all those flirtings turn into little moans and groans when you speed up the pace, cupping his balls with your left hand, whilst your right hand swirls around his shaft, using his abundant precum as lube to slide your hand proficiently.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, those hot breaths of his pick up frequency when he climbs to the peak of orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, luv...slower...ahh...”Simon's hand catches your wrist in his, trying to control yours so he won’t come too quickly, so he can enjoy the delectation through his hazy mind just a little longer.

but you smirk when his hands tremble and fail to stop you “shhh, Simon, just cum, alright? I got you.”

The coos you say when you press your lips to his send him over the edge, a loud whine leaves him when the overwhelming bliss makes him lose other functions and become a moaning mess under your hands.

When he finally calms down, you already go to the bathroom to wash your hands, and clean him up with tissues.

Tossing the tissues sloppily into the trash can, you jump back on the bed, and Simon's arms snake around your waist immediately again.

“Want some breakfast?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

“Nah.”

“Just lay here?”

“mmhmm.”

You chuckle, your man truly needs some proper repose, and you can’t say you aren’t well-pleasing to just lay here all day. Sundays are a day for relaxation, and refreshing, and you are each other’s best company to purify your fatigued soul, so why not just lay here and enjoy the peaceful morning? You two have a whole day to indulge in each other’s soothing presence.

Simon already falls back to his dream, and you count his regular tiny snores, slowly but contently, joining him into the sleep.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #simon ghost riley #gender neutral reader #Spotify

[suguwu]

you never talk about it.

sometimes you think there's a veil cast over the room; once you step inside, the outside world ceases to exist. it's just this room, untouched by time, with only the footsteps in the gathering dust that mark your presence.

satoru sighs. it wafts over your neck, damp like the ocean breeze, and you shift. you can't go far. the bed—a shitty twin that groans under the weight of two fully-grown adults—is too small for it.

you're not touching. you're together in the cramped bed, curled up like young fern fronds, but you're not touching.

you could.

satoru doesn't have infinity up. it's the closest he gets to asking.

you can never find it in yourself to answer.

the dust motes sparkle in the setting sun, flickering like fireflies, golden and bright, floating through the air like stardust. you'd meant to clean. to dust away the cobwebs.

maybe part of you is afraid you'll dust away the memories, too. they linger in each dark corner; they live in the untouched. the only thing that ever changes in this room is the sheets on the bed. and even that took a while, waiting until you could no longer discern even a hint of suguru's scent.

you hadn't known the living could haunt, but maybe you should have.

satoru shifts. his hair brushes against you, a kiss of contact. you flinch. when you look at him, he's already watching you, his eyes too blue, a comet searing across the night sky.

he opens his mouth. closes it again. you never talk either; it's as if the room robs you of your voices, a fairy-tale spell that's wound tight around your throat.

but he looks at you, and you hear him perfectly. hear the shatterglass part of him, the sharp edges that suguru left behind. the ones he'd let you slice yourself open on. he's all edge, satoru. no matter how much he sands himself down, makes himself small, he's all edge.

it's a god's right, you think.

it's a god's burden, you think.

he closes his eyes, long white lashes fluttering against his cheek. you do the same. he breathes quietly, shallowly, slow and steady like the ebb and rise of the tide.

for a moment, you hear another breathing, like the echo of the ocean in a shell against your ear. but that's all it is—an echo.

you turn over in suguru's dorm bed and go to sleep.

#bee chats #idk what this is but its yours now

[alwritey-aphrodite]

i’m so sorry hun i’m new here and i think i did this wrong!!so love note-resting your head on your partner's lap with sejanus plz?? xoxo

If you were the anon message with the same prompt then you didn’t do anything wrong, so no worries!! Also, I love your icon <3

Sharing rooms and beds and houses with your cousins, you were used to a little bit of chaos, no matter the time of day. The Covey were a musical group, which only made their yelling and fighting and screeching even louder. It seemed to have settled down as you all continued to grow and get older, but now the fights and spats were over dresses and instruments instead of toys.

The love you had for your little family was unmatched, but sometimes you needed a little bit of a break from being with them at all hours of the day, no matter where you went. You’d taken to wandering around District Twelve, spending a few hours in the well trodden paths in the woods, knowing no one would bother you.

Until, one day, someone did.

You can hear him before you see him, branches cracking under his step, rocks shifting beneath his heavy boots, the gentle humming of some song long forgotten. Without even seeing him, you know the boy you’ll find when you venture farther down the path, so you call out to him to save him the shock of your silent approach.

“Sejanus? What’re you doing all the way out here?” You ask, trying to cover your concern with a teasing tilt. He still startles, a sharp intake of breath as he turns towards your voice, shoulders relaxing when he recognizes you.

“Just needed to clear my head,” he says, and you hum in response, wandering through the woods for the very same reason.

“I know just the place for that,” you tell him, turning from your original path to lead him to an alcove, a quiet little clearing that you’re certain Lucy Gray discovered and no one besides you and the rest of the Covey know exists.

The rest of your walk is silent with the exception of the birds fluttering overhead and Sejanus’s breathing behind you, the path too narrow for you to walk side by side and the boy reluctant to step on anything. You find yourself smiling when you imagine his regret on crushing a flower beneath his heavy boots, and you wonder why someone as gentle as him would become a peacekeeper.

Slowing to a stop, Sejanus bumps against your back, almost knocking you to the ground but quick to keep you upright, spewing apologies as you laugh and steady yourself.

“Here we are,” you tell him, walking towards the fallen log you and Lucy Gray had fashioned into a bench months ago, before she had been reaped.

“It’s pretty,” he says as he sits next to you, gazing out at the rolling fields and the glistening sun. It’s a beauty like no other, land untouched by man, and it brings a certain sense of peace you can’t find anywhere else, even in the depths of the woods.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you talk for hours and hours, swapping stories and sharing your experiences. While he doesn’t understand, he sympathies, and you find yourself feeling lighter with every story you share, your heart aching as Sejanus tells his own tale. He’s such a sweet, gentle soul, you ache to think of anything bad happening to him, no matter how much you yourself have suffered.

He tells you about his childhood in District Two, about his time spent in the Capital, about his parents and Coriolanus and Marcus, about his dreams of being a medic and his reasons for following his only friend all the way to District Twelve.

Eventually, the sun sets and the stars emerge, the night perfect and cloudless and a deep navy. You’re not sure how it happens, too distracted by the sky to notice that Sejanus has grown quiet, and suddenly his head is in your lap, chest rising and falling as he drifts to sleep. You hesitate, unsure of what you should do but reluctant to wake him when he finally looks so peaceful. Your hand finds his head, rasping over his shorn curls, lulling him to sleep instead of waking him.

No one knows these parts of the woods, no one knows this clearing exists, so you let yourself lean against the tree behind you and close your eyes, Sejanus’s head warm on your thighs and your hand dancing over his scalp, relaxing the both of you as you drift off the sleep.

hehehe @beybaldes hehehe

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[iwaasfairy]

ETCHED IN RED | RUST Part 2

tw. dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, mention of murder, power imbalance wordcount. 1.5k

read part 1 here or see the valentine's masterlist

millions knives x reader

Everything else has an almost imperceptible coat of dust— it’s in the air, in the way the sand and dirt creeps through the crevices and lingers. You push yourself up from the warm bed to peer through the spaces between the rickety shack. Your sister still sleeps tight, with her pillow wrapped tight under her arms— and the soft snoring of your parents in the other room also stays steady. One split second you choose against better judgment not to wake her. Have you ever seen a God?

The blanket clings to you while you stir, but slips off when you get onto your knees. A small sliver of light whips around in the distance, quiet, as a hum fills the air. It flickers distractingly through the narrow windows, breaking through the cracks in the door.

It looks almost biblical.

The light that shines above the town, as the earth rattles beneath. You softly tiptoe around the sleeping person as you rub the sleep out of your eyes, open the door to the cold midnight air. Something’s in the distance. Vague and big, it coils in the darkness as if looking for something, and a heaviness settles into your stomach. Have you ever met a God? 

Without a single thought, you set off towards the tower, trying to quiet your steps so as not to attract attention. It’s not a stretch to guess that whatever it is, it’s here for your plant. One you, and all the people nearby, need. The heavy rattling, the drilling noise gets louder and louder, until you’re sure that it’s right upon the town.

You slip through the door and sprint up three steps at a time until you reach the platform, taking a single deep breath as you take in the faint glow. The plant’s tired, you know this. She’s uncurled herself just barely, face hidden within her hands— sometimes you try to reach out to her. You place your hands on the tank, press your head against the glass. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” you promise, and as if hearing you, understanding you; the beautiful leaves slowly seem to bloom a little more.

A frightening mechanic screech fills the night, and whoever wasn’t awake before, surely startles as the entire town shakes. The building with it. You stumble to your knees and turn, just in time to watch the metal roof being ripped off and the bladed, robotic arms to slither in. The man lands with no sound, and blue eyes zero in on you— as you stand to place yourself between him and the plant. The whirring appendages sprouting from his back drip in blood, and it’s only then that you can hear the screaming and crying from outside.

“You can’t take her- she’s sick,” you say, wrapping your arms around it as if in a desperate embrace. Your bottom lip wobbles in the silence, one you fill with a plea. “She’ll die if you take her.” Barely half of his face is visible from underneath the hood, but he towers, and his mouth corners flatten when you shake your head. “Please don’t hurt her.” Crying continues, as your palms heat up. As light gets brighter and brighter in the cold room, and your eyes widen.

You turn to see that the plant’s opened up, and her hands are pressed back against the glass in response to yours— heat surging through your body as you gasp. Though your body stands between him and his prize, he too drops his shoulders, and the mean snarl that was on his face vanishes. It doesn’t last long, before she tuckers out— but it’s enough for you to stare back at him in shock, mouth falling open at the stunning display. Small orbs of light still rain down around you. “The plant—” You don’t get to finish, before one of the arms wraps around you and yanks you towards him; not disemboweling you in the process. The other arms pick up the plant and pull you all out of the building, through the mess of shacks he’s destroyed.

“Wait, please! I-” you try to fight against the blades, but it’s no use. You only cut your skin open further, being dragged through the street kicking and screaming. “Stop, my family! Let me go!” Your arm is caught within a hand, as your sister hangs on with all her weight and almost pulls your hand clean off, planting her feet. She’s crying, and her eyes are bloodshot and frightened. You’re hurting. “Aw, aw!” You say her name, try to cling onto her fingers as hard as you can. Until you go blue. But it’s no fair fight— and as soon as sweat makes you slip, you’re out of her reach.

As you watch her wipe blood splatters off of her cheeks, crying out for you.

He’s moving too fast. The image of your destroyed town doesn’t stay for long enough for you to print it into your mind.

+

The furniture is cold when you touch them, dragging yourself around the room with a monotone sigh. Aside from that blue haired freak who glares, or the Doctor, Knives doesn’t get a lot of company. They rushed off in some state earlier, where Nai had barked at you to stay where you were— but you don’t doubt they’ll be back soon. You’ve seen what the blond can do. You’ve seen what’s left behind when someone tries to steal his precious plants. The camp is cold and metallic and clean, and you’ve learned that he doesn’t feel these things the way you do.

Instead you’re stuck in this room, and wait for the alarm to stop blaring soon. You place yourself on the well-kept leather seat, and softly press a few keys of the organ— jumping when the door slams open too violently. You cling onto the instrument as you turn, only to stare in confusion. Your mouth cracks open, and you frown. “Where’s master Knives? Are you here for the plants?”

He’s got almost the same face, but it’s not him. Hair too long, eyes too gentle. He’s got mechanical parts where Nai doesn’t— as he stands in the door disarmed. “I’m here for-”

“Vash, step aside.” The deep voice fills the room, and the golden blond aims his gun now at Nai. You can’t help it, you hurry over to his side. Knives at least, has shown that he doesn’t have the intent to harm you. This stranger however, keeps glancing between the two of you with frightening precision. Nai’s quick to pull you behind him out of direct reach, and tangles his hand with yours as you stare. They must be twins, your mind supplies. He squeezes your smaller, softer hand in his, then glances over at you. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no, I’m fine.” When you manage to get over your shock at the intrusion, you want to pout. It’s not like you trust him. He stole you, locked you up- you have every right to be angry. But still. He’s kept you from the Doctor’s experiments. And if Legato or any of the other ones had their way, you probably wouldn’t be so cared for. Dolled up. How should you understand this? You cling to his arm, as you peek your face from behind him. “What’s happening?”

The deep voice sounds again, and then the extra appendages come out gleaming in the low light, careful not to nick you in the process. “Vash is just leaving, pretty. Don’t worry.” He brushes a quick hand over your head, before pushing you down to the floor behind the couch. “Stay there.” They’re both back down the hall quicker than you can blink, leaving you behind in the otherwise empty room with only your heart thumping in your chest.

+

Your legs get yanked further down the bed, as almost luminescent eyes stare down at you. You wish you could say you were asleep, but Legato turned out to be right. Even master Knives has urges— that are now being inflicted upon your body as he nestles between your legs again. “Nai, promise me- I want you to go check on my family. I want to make sure they’re safe.” He’s ignoring you, circling your nipples with playful fingers before he leans down to kiss you all over. “Knives~”

After he sucks another hickey into you, he gets nose to nose with you, before dipping to kiss you there too- and biting your bottom lip as he groans. “You’re so whiny.”

“You promised. If I stayed with you… you’d take care of them. My sister and my parents will worry.”

His handsome face is always so awfully blank. In sharp contrast with the brightness of his eyes, and all that you can convince yourself to see in them. It’s so much easier to sacrifice yourself, when you know that you’re doing the right thing. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and pout. “You took the plant… All I want is for them to be okay.”

“They’re taken care of,” he mumbles robotically, before raising a brow. “I promise. Wouldn’t lie to you.” The hands instantly start roaming again, as his thighs push yours open to create more room for his hips, and the way he’s pushing inside you ever so slowly. The low groan he lets out is rumbly, cockhead stretching you around him so that your back arches. The wetness between your legs is hot, and ever since the first time, he’s wanted to be inside you as much as possible. The slick sounds fill the room as he sits back and watches his cock slide into you, squeezing your hips tight.

You cling onto him when he bottoms out, and forces another kiss onto your mouth. Whispers your name as he pulls out, and fucks back into you with a grunt. You can’t help but be grateful that master Knives isn’t all that bad.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

#tw.noncon #tw.yandere #tw.death #knives million yandere #🍯honey.pot #trigun smut #dark content

[heartfullofleeches]

What about v and easily frightened reader

V walks out of his bedroom to the sound of you falling out of bed. You cower under your desk as he enters, swatting and combing through your hair as you stare eyes wide at the bed.

"What happened?"

Your knees muffle your words as you hold them to your chest. "spider...."

"What? I can't hear you when you mumble."

You point at the bed. "There was a huge one in my bed. It was in my hair..."

V pulls back the blankets. Your eight legged assailant skaters cross your pillow, crawling onto his hand as he holds it in front of the creature. He had dealt with enough insects feeding a pet mantis as a child, and he had enough knowledge to know this spider was harmless to people. He takes it outside and let's it wander off as he heads back inside to take care of the greater issue at hand.

For as long as he's known you you've been afraid of your own shadow. V was fortunate you had a brief run in during high school or he may have never gotten you to be his roommate. As frustrating as it could be for you, V loved your easily frightened nature. Since he was the only one around most of the time, you had no choice but to depend on him, and those faces you made were the cutest thing he'd ever seen. He was tempted to bring the spider over to you just to see the fear in your pretty eyes just a little longer, but he decided to play nice for once.

"Is it gone?..."

"Yeah, probably off bothering some other couple by now."

You're too shaken up to call him out on his mistake, crawling out of your hiding place and into his open arms. His hand rests in the center of your back as your breathing slowly steadies, stroking down the curve of your spine. He's reluctant to let go as you pull away, but your heistant ask makes him all the more willing.

"Can.. I sleep in your bed tonight? I've had a rough night.. not just because of the spider."

V bites the inner wall of his lip to make sure he isn't dreamily, the copper taste in his mouth made sweet by your gaze. "Sure. Just let me go clear some stuff up."

V rushes in his room, hiding his clothes and ones you lost under his bed and in his collect. He shoves your toothbrush in a drawer before calling you in his room. You walk in, standing at the doorway and carrying a pillow in your arms. Sometimes he swore he could just devour you on the spot.

"You can take the corner if you want."

You climb into his bed and make yourself at home against the wall. V gets in and pulls the covers over the both of you, ignoring the little personal space he usually gave you as he warms up to your back and hugs your waist. You seem at peace with this as you soon fall asleep. V watches over you, sitting up as you turn to face him in your sleep. How could someone be so cute, and yet the biggest pain in his ass. Sleeping in his bed, letting him comfort and hold you like this - and you still weren't his. It was infuriating. He could just kiss you.

V thinks back to all the times you've apologized for your actions. When he's accidentally startled you awake when he thought you were up and you nearly attacked him. A wicked idea comes to mind as he runs his finger over your lips. Leaning in, V kisses the corner of your mouth- ghosting his nails up the crease of your neck to stimulate you more. He feels you shift, but only hovers his lips over yours at he tangles his fingers in your hair. Your eyes shoot open as his lock with yours, your hand soaring directly into his lower jaw.

You sit up screaming as V back away clutching his swelling jaw. Blood cakes in his mouth, but his pain is nulled in the way you ball the covers to your chest and stare wildly around the room, completely unaware of what just happened.

"Ow.... fuck."

You look at V, letting out a gasp as your eyes adjust to the dark drops on his shirt. "V?.. Did I hurt you?"

V sticks his fingers in his mouth, tips coated in a mixture of saliva and thickening blood. "You were moving around so much I tried to wake you up and you punched me... It still hurts."

V hides his eyes with his sleeves. It really did hurt, but there was no harm in playing up his pain.

"I... didn't mean to. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Blood flashes in the grin he wears. "Kiss me better?"

#V my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere x darling

[wsdanon]

Some notes, and then the fic will be under the cut

firstly: this is a fitpac fic centred around not getting married \o/

secondly: this will be on ao3 eventually, but the style makes me want to add at least one more scene? maybe more. i can't think of anything right now though and the second scene got away from me and i kind of just wanted to post it now. so tumblr only, and soon ao3

reblogs appreciated \o/ hope you enjoy \o/

Mike is thinking hard about something. But he’s keeping it carefully away from Pac which is never a good sign. 

“What kind of flowers do you want at your wedding?”

Pac abruptly comes to a stop. 

“Mike!” Pac pushes Mike and he stumbles a little, laughing. “I’m not getting married!”

“Yes you are. To Fit, right?”

“No! No, we’re—we’re not, okay?” Pac huffs. “I would, like—I’d think you’d understand it—since you’re aro, you know?”

Never mind that Mike is also married. It’s to a Goddess, so it’s a weird, complicated relationship, right? 

Not that Pac thinks his relationship with Fit is weird or complicated, but… it’s not what people would assume, is all. Lots of people assume marriage is the end game to a relationship like theirs. Pac doesn’t agree. He really doesn’t think marriage means all that much. 

Marriage is like… a false sense of security. He doesn’t need Fit to tell him they’ll be together forever because… well, sometimes things don’t work out. It’s nice to hear, but formalising it feels like bad luck. And next thing they know they’ll be leaving their kids at the orphanage because…

…Well, it doesn’t really matter why. 

He doesn’t think that will happen, at least. Even if they do split up. 

“Can you stop thinking? You’re so boring, Pac.” Mike rolls his eyes. “Marriage is about the party—about the fun, you know? Call each other whatever you want, I just want to be your best man, and organise a beautiful, perfect day to celebrate your relationship.”

“I don’t think Fit would like that.” 

“Ugh.” Mike groans and lets his head fall onto Pac’s shoulder. “So boring.” 

“Maybe you and Mine are happily married together, but we don’t need all that, okay?” Pac wraps his arms around Mike and hugs him close. Sways them from side to side. “Wanna help me plan Ramón’s adoption party instead?”

“Yes!” Mike pushes himself away, pulling out a notepad. “Do you think he’d like a chocolate fountain?” 

Pac is probably going to push back on a few of his ideas—he wants to be the primary organiser for this, after all. Ramón’s his son. 

But at least it’s distracted Mike for a little bit. 

——

“Does it, um… bother you?” Fit asks cryptically. 

And Pac waits a moment for him to clarify, but he doesn’t. 

“Does what?” 

Fit huffs. He turns on his side to face Pac, the mattress creaking slightly as he moves. 

They’re pretty good at hugging, Pac would say. And leaning on each other while sitting next to each other. But they haven’t quite made it to cuddling through the night yet. 

Personally, Pac doesn’t mind. From what little he’s gleaned about 2B2T, it’s a privilege that Fit even allows him to sleep in the same bed. 

He remembers when Fit had suggested it, nervous as anything and stumbling over his words. Pac himself hadn’t been much more composed—he had never even seen Fit’s bedroom beforehand, and now Fit’s allowing him nearby while at his most vulnerable. 

It’s a lot of trust. Pac feels giddy whenever he remembers it. 

Finally, Fit works up the courage to speak again. His eyes are drifting over Pac’s face, not quite ever making eye contact. 

“I mean… you know me Pac, I’m not, uh, good at these things.” He takes a steadying breath. “But… does it bother you that, uh—that I don’t want to get married?” 

“Of course not, Fit.” Pac lets his hand rest on top of Fit’s where it lays in between them on the bed. “I don’t, uh… Like, I don’t have a good view of marriage, either, you know? Like, I’m happy for Mike and Mine, but…” he shrugs, “it’s not for me, you know?” 

“Good, uh… that’s good.” Fit laughs nervously. “You’re too good to me, Pac.”

“What, because I don’t want to get married to you?” And Pac laughs, too. “You know, most people wouldn’t say that after hearing that from their boyfriend.”

Fit twists his hand to intertwine their fingers. The smile on his face is soft, and beautiful, and Pac wants to eat him alive. 

“Yeah, well…” Fit shrugs, and lets the words hang there. Pac knows what he means, anyway. And he agrees. 

He’s never been in a relationship like this before. And he thinks that’s good. They’re good for each other in a lot of ways. While him and Mike contrast each other—filling in what the other is missing, two halves making a whole—him and Fit complement each other. 

It’s nothing Pac’s ever had before, and it’s good. It’s nice. Pac doesn’t need any more than this. 

But Fit’s frowning again, and Pac shuffles closer. Stifles the urge to reach out and smooth away the creased lines between his brows. 

“And, uh… well, I’m sorry for… going so slow.” Fit squeezes his hand, and laughs—nervous again. “I mean, uh… we haven’t even, you know, kissed.” 

“Don’t say sorry for that!” Pac would, of course, love to kiss Fit. He’d love to do a lot more with Fit, as Mike loves to complain about when Pac doesn’t block their link properly. But… “I—I like you, uh… a lot, Fitche, you know? I don’t, like—I don’t need that. Ever, if you don’t want to.” 

“I…” Fit looks down to their entwined hands—resolutely not Pac’s face. “I do, I just… Sorry, I should be better at—at saying these things to you, at least—“

“If you say sorry one more time I’m going to smother you in your sleep.” Pac declares, delighting in the way Fit laughs, his body relaxing. 

“You’re too good to me, Pac.”

Fit’s grinning now. But there’s some lingering nervousness around the edges of his expression. 

“You’re—You’re better to me than, like… than a lot of people have been.” He confesses quietly. 

A lot of his relationships have burned like kindling—bright, but quickly extinguished without anything to latch onto. This is a nice change of pace. 

“I’m—Well, not glad, but—“

“It’s okay, I get it.” 

“You deserve good things, Pac.” Fit says—entirely seriously with no hint of a joke whatsoever. 

“You—You—“

And, really, Pac should‘ve been surprised his composure lasted this long. Warmth springs to life on his face, and he ducks under the covers as his tongue becomes unable to form words. 

He can hear Fit laughing. And he thinks if Mike wasn’t already asleep, he’d be laughing, too. 

Tentatively, Pac pokes his head out from underneath the covers. 

“And you—you, uh… you deserve, like, to not get married. If you don’t want to, you know?” 

“Thanks, Pac.” 

He’s so beautiful when he smiles like this—unrestrained, his face crinkling with it. Pac could stare at him forever. 

“Go—Go to sleep.” Pac huffs, drawing his hand away. “Before I—before you kill me.” 

“Okay, okay.” Fit laughs. “We wouldn’t want that, huh?”

“Yeah.” Pac nods, and deepens his voice. “I have to kill you.” 

“Looking forward to it.” 

Then Fit’s smile drops slightly—hesitation crawling onto his face as he reaches his hand out to grab Pac’s again. 

Pac hums happily, and pulls his hand up so he can press a kiss to it. 

The way Fit stares at him—something like awe in his expression—has Pac’s cheeks heating up again.

“Goodnight, Fit.” 

“Good—uh, boa noite.” Fit squeezes his hand. “Did I say that right?”

Pac loves him. Utterly, and completely. 

“Yes.” He smiles. “Boa noite.”

----

hope you guys enjoyed that \o/ fitpac's relationship development means a lot to me as an aroace person. and i know they aren't particularly going for an aspec interpretation, but the fact they haven't immediately jumped into typical romantic gestures after getting together like kissing means a lot to me \o/

#wsd/f.ics #wsd/w.ips