#and then send me the fics when you write them
Text
Flirting with the FBI
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word count: 7.1k
Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???
Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.
A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭
Masterlist
You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.
If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.
Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.
You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.
You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.
“There once was a serial killer,
Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,
He cut, diced and slashed,
Left the feds quite abashed,
So I leave this message to be clearer”
The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.
You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.
You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.
None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.
And you really wanted to listen in.
The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.
Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.
A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.
With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.
“There once was a bullpen full of agents,
Who thought they were very surveillant,
But a simply code crack,
And there system did hack,
A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”
This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.
The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.
Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.
He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.
Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.
“The tall, dark and handsome employee,
How I do wish that he could enjoy me,
I would gladly submit,
we match wit for wit,
But he's trying his best to arrest me.”
The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”
The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.
You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.
A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.
After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.
By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.
So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.
“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,
I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,
the killer, you see,
Is right now hunting me,
You're the ones who can do better tracking.”
You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.
That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.
You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.
“There once was a doctor called Reid,
Who I simply and truly just need,
I would lie on my back,
And then let him attack,
Any inch of my body with his seed.”
He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.
Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.
You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.
He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.
This latest limerick was his last straw.
“The cameras are how I can see you,
I do find myself enjoying the view,
His hair is so fine,
I wish he was mine,
The agent with more PhDs than two.”
“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.
“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”
“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”
“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”
They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.
“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.
“The agents grew closer by day,
As the killer wanted to escape,
He paced across the floor,
As I watched by his door,
Getting closer than the agents could say.”
He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.
“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”
“Officer Falstaff, why?”
“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.
“Spencer, wait-”
“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”
Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.
“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.
“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”
“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”
Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.
“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”
His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”
“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”
“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”
The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.
The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.
Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.
Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.
The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.
“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.
A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.
The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.
You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.
“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,
Working with you has been like a dream,
When Reid comes it is wet,
And my mind is all set,
Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”
The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.
“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.
“When you find me there's lots for me to say,
I can't help simply feeling this way,
Your profile I read,
Can't believe you're a Fed,
I yearn for you all night and day.”
Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.
He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.
You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.
“The Doctor had finally cracked it,
The only identity that could fit,
The pretty young thing,
Who'd been flirting with him,
And was thinking of sitting on his…”
You sent a second message along with the first.
“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”
The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.
xxx
So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.
You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.
Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.
You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.
He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.
He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.
“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”
Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.
“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”
“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”
“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.
“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.
“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”
“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”
“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”
“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”
He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.
“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.
“As much as anyone does.”
“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.
“What do you think, Doc?”
“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.
“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.
“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.
“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”
“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”
For the first time in a while, you were speechless.
“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”
“Why, Y/N?”
You sighed and looked back up at him.
“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.
“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.
“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”
He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.
“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”
“You want to sleep with me?”
His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.
“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”
To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.
“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”
You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.
“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.
“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”
You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.
“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”
Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.
“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”
“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”
The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.
A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.
“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.
You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.
“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.
“No, you don't.”
“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”
“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”
“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”
“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”
He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.
“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”
He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.
“Can we keep this serious, please?”
“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”
“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.
“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.
“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”
Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.
“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”
“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”
“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”
“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”
You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.
He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.
It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.
“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”
“I'm driving you home.”
“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”
“What about friends?”
“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”
His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.
“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”
“What?”
“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.
“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”
“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.
“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.
“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.
He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.
The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.
“Spencer!”
“Doctor Spencer Reid.”
“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”
“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”
You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.
“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.
“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”
The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.
He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.
“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.
“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”
“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”
He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.
“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.
“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”
“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.
It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.
When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.
“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.
“And let you touch my things? No.”
You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.
“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.
“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.
“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.
“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.
“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”
You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.
He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.
You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.
“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”
“What's the difference?”
“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."
"And what would that be?"
"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”
“Brat,” he spat at you.
“Fed,” you spat back.
“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.
“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.
“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”
His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.
“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”
You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.
“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”
“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.
“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”
With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.
The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.
His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.
“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.
With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.
“Fuck, Spencer-”
“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”
“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.
“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.
“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”
“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.
“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.
Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.
“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”
His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.
“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”
“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.
“Say it.”
“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”
“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.
“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.
“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.
Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.
Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.
“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.
They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.
“Who I simply and truly just need.”
He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.
“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”
A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.
“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”
His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.
He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.
“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.
You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.
You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.
He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.
If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.
He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.
Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.
When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.
“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.
“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”
“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.
Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.
When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.
He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.
“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
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Hellooo! I saw ur reqs wer open and I wanted to know if its oknif ok if u can write abt the jjk men being their for their gf's performance/exhibit for school or work when their family or friends can't make it?
(I love how how the way you write them as well! I found u through the nanami oneshot and I've just been on ur masterlist reading through all of ur fics and drabbles, esp now with me going through the same thing as above 💛)
𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ
❪ jjk men showing up in your art exhibition when nobody did ❫
────── 𝕴 . featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, itadori yuuji x fem! reader
────── 𝕴 . warnings. none :)
note. hi nonnie :( thank you so much for the love, i'm so sorry for the delay, i'm so sorry that happened to you. i'm 100% sure whatever you were presenting to everyone was awesome! i love you <33
𝜗𝜚 . GOJO SATORU
gojo has received your heads up regarding an art exhibit a week prior. he'd notice the way you've been very very excited about having your art work presented for people to see. and he's happy to see you happy.
he made it extra clear he wanted nothing with the jujutsu world the day your exhibit was held — all he wanted was a nice and peaceful day to spend with his partner. gojo woke up extra early to send you off, helping you get ready.
the way your smile lit up his morning, he couldn't even get back to sleep right after, seeing how happy you are with today. gojo can't even wait for the time to struck twelve for the exhibition opening, and so he got there an hour early.
he was silent with his movements, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp as he paced around the crowded area — blue eyes averting everywhere to look for you. with his height, finding you wasn't too hard for him.
pushing through oceans of humans, he stood right in front of you. the solemn look on your face doesn't go unnoticed, "hi, baby."
you look up to see him and crack a smile, "you came."
gojo grins down at you, "of course i did, can't miss my girl's exhibition, can i?" his large hand covered the top of your head, "why the frown? are you not happy to see me?"
chuckling, you shake your head, "no. my parents couldn't make it, they were too busy with work."
and you were so excited to show them your art work too. gojo didn't forget the way you rambled on about how your parents were going to love it — especially when it was dedicated to them. and they butchered it up by choosing work over you.
this time, gojo frowns along with you, "they didn't show up?"
with a shake of your head, gojo pulls you into his embrace, "i'm sorry that happened, show me everything? i arrived here an hour ago to see you, you know?"
"one hour? so early and for what?"
"to see you, silly. i couldn't wait to see all your works," he pressed his lips onto your forehead, "and this is for my beautiful girl."
he handed you the bouquet and laced his fingers with yours, "let's get some food after this? it's a date."
"it's a date!" you smiled, no longer feeling upset.
𝜗𝜚 . NANAMI KENTO
people always tell you to never get excited over small things, but you couldn't help it — the slightest things made you really happy, but at the same time, the slightest things made you sad as well.
i'm sorry, can't come to the exhibit. something came up, i'll try to swing by next time y/n! maybe next year? sorry :(
you read the text over and over again. this should be fine, (friend) was probably just busy with their day so they couldn't drop by — no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it was fine. you didn't feel like it. they promised.
"i'm sorry i'm late, y/n."
turning around to look at the source of the voice, there stood your boyfriend. sweat dribbling down the side of his face, hair disheveled with shallow and rapid breaths. he looked like he just ran a marathon.
"kento? i thought you couldn't make it—"
nanami shook his head, "i made time for you, i will always make time for you," he gave you a small smile.
"you're not late, just in time actually," you switched your phone off, shoving it inside the back pocket of your jeans, "thank you for coming for me."
he wiped his sweat, standing up straight, stepping towards you, "where are your friends? they should be here now, are they not?"
the corner of your lips tugged downwards. it was embarrassing as it is, and now you had to tell him that they weren't coming. it's like a slap to the face, "um . . . they aren't coming. something came up, and i guess they couldn't come."
nanami's eyebrows twitched slightly, but he said nothing. his hand reached out for yours, giving it a slight squeeze, "spend the rest of your day with me?"
you blinked, "how about work?"
"don't worry about my work, you come first, understood?" he brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for a brief kiss.
𝜗𝜚 . ITADORI YUUJI
maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics made you a better person. maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics pushed you to do better — like a cry for attention. but for some apparent reason, they never seemed to be satisfied with what you're doing.
"art brings you no good, what are you going to be? an artist? do you know how much they earn a year?"
don't be an artist this. don't be an artist that. it was pretty expected that your invitation for them was discarded with no thoughts behind. hell, they didn't even spare it a glance.
and yet, the little girl in you still hoped that they'd show up — even just for a while.
they didn't, it should be obvious. you saw it coming, but it still hurts anyways. however, itadori yuuji showed up; and he was like a ball of sunshine, so you couldn't help but to be happy as well. especially with how packed his schedule is, he still made the time to stop by.
"baby!"
"yuuji!"
he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, carrying you around with ease, "sorry i came a little late, kugisaki needed me to bring her shopping bags back to the cab. where are your parents? they should be here, right?"
right. they should have.
"no, they didn't come," you murmured into the crook of his neck before pulling your head back with a sad smile plastered to your face, "but i'm okay, you're here now!"
yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "i'm going to pester gojo-sensei to let me off for the rest of the day, i need to be here with you."
you shake your head, "you can't, what if you have a mission?"
"fushiguro can take over, pretty. don't worry about my missions," yuuji replied, nuzzling his nose to the side of your face, "plus, how can i leave you alone here, huh?"
"you're the sweetest, yuuji. but what if it's an important mission?" you pinched his cheeks gently, pulling them.
"fushiguro can take over, he's strong. and there's kugisaki, and the second year students. they'll manage," he retorted, pecking your cheek before letting you down.
"you're too nice, yuuji."
"i love you. and show me your works, i can't wait to see them, you know? kugisaki wanted pictures!"
© churipu 2024 , do not copy or repost anywhere
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#nanami kento#nanami fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#itadori yuuji#itadori fluff#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori x reader
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Vacuan Nights, Like Vacuan Days
They’re just so great together! I’d love for Jaune and Weiss to get a little downtime in Vacuo to live out a moment like this. They really deserve it, and I’d love to see Jaune’s guitar make a reappearance.
The comic here was inspired by u/Silverstar1243’s excellent piece of art, A Serenade Under the Moonlight. Send some love to them on their twitter, commission some art if you’re willing and able, they’ve made some great stuff.
You folks may have noticed I threw in a couple of references for those in the know; the Golden Oreos behind Yang (double stuffed, I might add) for the trio’s ship, Weiss liking it rough for Mallobaude’s great fic, and of course I made a whole theme around the Arabian Nights Disney song. A song, along with its Aladdin compatriots, which I spent the better part of a day finding covers for just to listen to on repeat while I worked.
This one’s now officially my longest comic project, with 14 panels, two over the past record since I added the White Knight kiss at the end. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Not sure I’d say it was more difficult than my Vanity of Vanities post, but for this one I actually knew how to use my editing software going into it (at least somewhat).
Put a lot of work into this one, been working on it on and off since February. Took a few breaks for vacation, to make my memorial post for Rooster Teeth, and another five meme edits or so, but I came back around to it. First half was pretty easy, relatively minor edits inserting characters into scenes and so on. The second half with Jaune and Weiss was tougher though, with color correcting, merging poses, redrawing features, drawing Jaune’s entire head to fix some lighting issues, etc. Really like how the edit to make Jaune strum his guitar turned out.
The time it took to make the whole comic got me down a little, until I did a bit of math. Including my side projects since starting this, all the scripting and editing and all, I’ve been pumping out a panel every two days. That seems pretty good to me, that kind of accomplishment makes me a little proud of myself.
Really need to get around to watching the second part of the Justice League Crossover movies. It’s got a few Vacuo scenes that might make things a little more authentic instead of me just using Saphron’s house and pretending it’s a suite in Vacuo. I do love taking yet more character stills from Jaune and friends experiencing deep trauma and turning it into something positive, been making that a bit of a personal habit. And I’ve got to say, the background for Jaune and Weiss’ scene is really beautiful, pulled it from when Sun and Neptune hear Ruby’s message about Salem. That’s just a really good shot all on its own, I even saved a copy for my computer’s wallpaper after editing out the two.
Posting a big RWBY White Knight edit, watching not one but two RWBY Beyond episodes, and all on the trail of the news that RWBY’s found partners that they’re negotiating with and that the creative team is expected to stay on. And I'm sipping bubble tea. Life is good.
Anyway, pardon the long write up. I’m invested in this one, and am quite pleased with how the comic turned out. I hope you all get a kick out of it as well!
#rwby#jaune arc#weiss schnee#rwby white knight#white knight#rwby whiteknight#whiteknight#jaune arc x weiss schnee#jaune x weiss#yang xiao long#golden oreo#yang x jaune#yang x weiss#yang x jaune x weiss#blake belladonna#ruby rose#qrow branwen#sort of#shipping#comics#rwby memes#memes#greenlightvolume10#rwby volume 10#rwby news#vacuo#jaune's guitar#needs a come back#disney#aladdin
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Hey Ana!😊
i was wondering if you could write a headcanon of 'jude is the type of boyfriend to' kind of thing.
i love your fics a lot :)
hii anon!! ofccc!! 🤭🤭 also check out @redeyegrl recent fic!! as it’s super similar to this!! 🫦🤍
the type to wake you up when he has a bad dream, and want to be held.
get pouty when you refuse to show pda in public and just kiss you to show you off.
send super annoying texts throughout the day because he misses you dearly! especially when he’s away!
play with your hair! twist your hair around his finger! taming it out too see your shy face! or knowing it helps you sleep so he does it after you have a long day!!
calls you when he’s out of town or vice versa, and he’s wanting to hear your voice because your voice relaxes and soothes him!
the type to hold your hand and place kisses on it! or when your mad at him he knows to hold your pinky because he can’t stand being away from you even if you’re upset! and because it makes you feel safe.
the type to prank you or scare you around the house by hiding in corners or rooms! record your reactions and post them on special occasions!
he’s the type of bf to play with your rings, bracelets, necklace with his initials when cuddling because he’s entranced by them! or when in a social setting just to push away his nerves and focus on the small diamonds and or chains.
buy you sweets and crisps/ chips when your on your period! or coming back from going out because they’re your comfort snacks! leaving notes on them by wishing you a good day kr reminding you he loves you!
the one to share his airpods when traveling together because sharing music was a way of bonding! loves to see your reactions to unanticipated songs!!
get mad and needy whne you’re not giving him attention!! literally begs and forces you to stop what your doing to give him a kiss or hug! arms holding you tight afraid to let go and you’re just laughing!
FOREHEAD KISSES!! at home or when in public! it’s his love language and they can’t but make you feel giddy inside!! his lips leaving a warm feeling when he does!!
asks “do you love me?” when he upsets you because he’s so afraid to lose you! or be angry for the rest of your life! makes you laugh because he is literally frowning!
the type of bf to fall asleep on you no matter where you are!! on your shoulders, your back, stomach, sometimes even your thighs or legs because he needs to be aside you when he sleeps!
granting any wish or favor for you because he loves to make you feel like the only girl in the world! wanting to see the brightest smile because it warms his heart and head!
kiss you when you’re rambling on and on about stuff that doesn’t make sense! knowing his kisses or get even his touch calms you down instantly! telling you to relax and breathe!!
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Your most recent Luci fic—the one w the priest—is really good!
Not sure if you take requests rn, but I would love it if you could write something similar. For example, a fic about Luci with an ex-Catholic lover? Or maybe a lover who used to be a nun?
(I’m ex-Catholic, now agnostic-leaning-towards-atheist & when I was Catholic, I was in postulancy—training to be a nun—but…things happened lol)
hi, anon, thank you! <3 i'm glad you liked it.
and wow, that sounds like quite the religious journey! i hope that you find something that makes sense for you. <3 i'm both baptized and confirmed in the protestant church but i'm an atheist now. (obv not the same at all, but i somewhat getchu >:D)
here goes! i hope you like it. <33
warning: very heavy religious themes!
When you're first teleported to the Devildom, your reaction is to say a prayer. It falls off your lips so easily. Call it old habits, call it shock. You're even surprised by it yourself, staring wide-eyed at Diavolo as the prayer slips your lips.
“Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil.”
Everyone is shocked. The prayer in itself doesn't really have that much of an effect, your dear god cannot save you here (not that you expected him to), but a deep shiver runs down Lucifer's back. It's safe to say he hasn't heard that prayer in a while.
As if isn’t enough that you just prayed for protection against the devil, the prayer that mindlessly slipped out of you is the prayer to the archangel Michael. It strikes a deep cord within Lucifer. He doesn’t blame you, per se, he’s just very very shocked.
He takes it like a challenge, even if he isn’t aware of it. He’ll question your faith constantly. You aren’t really interested in getting into your religious beliefs with this stranger, not to mention demon, who practically kidnapped you. So you just kind of ignore his questions or avoid them.
“Were you born into religion or did you find it later in life?”
“What?” You look at Lucifer tiredly, trying to bottle your annoyance. That’s the fifth question he’s asked today, despite you expertly avoiding his last four.
You’re in his office, seated at a chair in front of his desk. He pulled you in, saying you couldn’t leave until you did the homework you’d been skillfully neglecting. Lovely education reform.
“Were you born into religion or did-“ Lucifer begins to repeat. He seems rather immune to your annoyance, seemingly thinking his pursuit of your personal information is justified. You’ve come to find that Lucifer generally thinks that anything he does is completely justified.
“I heard you.” you interrupt and send him a tight-lipped smile. “I just didn’t want to answer you.” you follow up. Lucifer tilts his head to the side, red eyes piercing through you.
“Why not?” he asks. You sigh. Does this man never run out of questions? “You’re never going to get my approval if you don’t let me get to know you.” he lazily states, flipping some of the worksheets on his desk.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You really don’t wanna get into it but you do need his approval if you want to help the brothers and Belphegor…
“I was born into it. My parents are very religious,” you state while staring at your homework, not daring to make eye contact. It feels as though his eyes are burning holes into you. A small hum leaves Lucifer. “Very interesting, indeed,” he says, voice sounding almost melodic. When you finally look up at him, he’s grinning, while twirling his pen with his fingers. He thinks he’s won this round. Stupid prick.
Months later, when you’re lying in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, you finally breach the subject. “I was in postulancy for a while,” you say, completely out of the blue. You’re laying on his chest with his arm around your waist, the other caressing your hair.
You feel his body tensing underneath you for a few seconds before he softens again. You look up at him but he’s staring at the ceiling. “I practically grew up in the church. Mass every Sunday, youth choir every Tuesday, summer camp once a year…”
You lay your head on his chest again, looking at the wall. Lucifer doesn’t say anything, but his fingers move from your hair to rub soothing patterns into your back, encouraging you to continue. “It seemed the natural next step for me to become a nun. My entire community was the church. My parents were so proud as well. Their status in the church meant everything to them.”
A lump grows in your throat. “Sorry, I haven’t talked about this in so long, I’m rambling-“ you whisper. Lucifer's hand moves from your back to your chin, turning your head towards him. “Don’t apologize, little lamb. I am very proud of you for opening up to me,” he says and your breath slightly hitches. He smiles fondly at you and strokes your cheek. His smile then fades slowly. “It occurs to me that I haven’t been fair to you. I’m sorry that I was so insensitive when we met.”
You huff. “You were a dick,” Lucifer glares at you and pinches your cheek. “Now, now. I’ve admitted my faults, let’s not delve into it,” he says and you wince, gripping his hand and intertwining your fingers.
“Yeah, yeah, old man, I’ll consider if you deserve my forgiveness,” you say and settle your head on his chest again. A small chuckle vibrates through Lucifer before a comfortable silence falls over you.
“What made you change your mind? Why aren’t you a nun, my little lamb?” he asks after a while. You think for a while, looking at your intertwined hands. His thumb presses small circles into the back of your hand.
“It just didn’t feel right, I guess,” you mumble. Lucifer nods. “Well, I, for one, am glad you didn’t go through with it. It would all be terribly complicated if you were already in a relationship with my Father.”
You let out a surprised laughter and push yourself up so your face is directly over his. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs tracing patterns into your bare skin, where your shirt has ridden up. “What a weird thing to say,” you giggle and Lucifer's brows furrow. “Well, it’s true-“ he begins, but your lips press to his before he can continue his weird family rambles. It’s a chaste kiss and you quickly press another to the corner of his lips and then one to his cheek and jaw.
After that, Lucifer is very gentle with you on the subject. He never prods or questions and only talks about it if you start the conversation. He'll even subtly change the topic if someone else brings it up. It's like a little secret between the two of you when he sends you confidential glances, making your heart flutter.
You're in a beautiful meadow. The sky is purple and you're wearing a heavy rosary with white beads around your neck. A pack of doves fly above you, circling like vultures. They begin diving for you, pecking you with their beaks, pulling at your skin and hair. You try to shield yourself with your arms, but it's useless against the many doves, plunging down. Their shrieks fill your ears and you cover your ears, but it's useless, the sound ringing in your head. You try to run, but the rosary has grown in size, pulling you down towards the ground.
You wake with a fright, covered in sweat. Your breathing is heavy as you gasp for air. You put your face in your hands and run them through your hair. Your heart is beating harshly against your ribcage. Lucifer. You need to go to Lucifer.
You stagger towards his room, weakly knocking on his door. "Come in," he sounds from the other side. You brace yourself against the door. "Lucy," you weakly say and the door immediately opens causing you to practically fall into him.
In a flash, you're in his lap on his couch. He worriedly grabs your face and examines you. "What's wrong, my love?" he asks and you wrap your arms around him, sinking your face into the crook of his neck. "Nightmare," you mumble. You feel Lucifer physically relaxing underneath you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You feel your heartbeat slowing, as you're finally able to relax again.
"Wanna tell me about it?" he asks and you explain your dream, voice muffled against his skin. His hand finds your collarbone and he pushes you, just far enough so he can press his forehead against your own. You pout and furrow your brows. "It was so real, I swear I can still feel their beaks on my skin."
"Where do you feel it?" Lucifer asks and you shrug. "Everywhere..." His gaze is soft as he grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips. "You feel them here?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His lips trail up your arm. "Here?" he asks, eyes still on you. You nod and he presses a kiss to your arm. "Your shoulder as well?"
"Yes," Another kiss is pressed into your shoulder, then your collar bone, your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, your nose. You let out a giggle and he presses a last kiss to your forehead. "Did I miss anywhere?" he asks and you nod. His eyebrows raise. "Really? Where?" he ponders and you bring his thumb to your lips. "Here," you say and this time you're the one pressing a small kiss to his fingertip.
"Oh," Lucifers says, eyes following your every move. He takes a sharp breath and pulls on your bottom lip. "We can't have that, now can we?" he says and you shake your head. He leans and kisses you and you kiss him back slowly.
"Thank you, Lucy,"
"I'll always be here, my love,"
a/n: aaa thank you for reading, guys, i hope you liked this one!! you can find my other stuff here. <333
#perse fics#perse fluff#perse requests#perse inbox#lucifer#obey me lucifer#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me fluff#obey me angst#obey me x reader#obey me x you#obey me x mc#obey me lucifer fluff#obey me lucifer angst#obey me lucfier x you#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me lucifer x mc#om lucifer#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer imagines
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A sparkle in the night
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Pair: Alastor and Vox. A bit platonic, a bit romantic, could be read in different ways.
Disclaimer: Nothing other than it’s a SFW tickle fic. They are also slightly ooc but tbh we don’t really know since I’m describing a moment that happened before the series takes place sooooo… who knows (but honestly, Alastor is much too sweet to be canon).
Also I had fun with some fonts I found online, I don’t know if that is a problem so if you find difficulties reading please tell me and I’ll change it!
Vox is stressed and wants to reminisce old times, old friends, old feelings.
I got the idea for this from this fic by @starlight-write. I wanted to explore Alastor and Vox’s relationship before whatever happened between them.
I hope you all enjoy it!
~~~
Hell had changed a lot since Vox first arrived. He had met many Overlords who now weren’t ‘alive’ anymore, killed by Angels or by other sinners. He had seen Hell change its geography, different shops rising and then succumbing to nefarious fate.
He had met friends along the way, and he had lost them too.
Vox had learnt that the afterlife was just as complicated and confusing as his past life: people were hard to read, it was hard to understand their needs and, honesty, he wasn’t very good at accommodating them. Of course it was easy to solve people problems work wise (most of the times he was the one creating a fake problem and giving the public a new product as a solution), but when it came to personal business he couldn’t just hypnotise everyone. Well he could but…
He was alone in his personal room, monitors all over him, phones and computers all around him. Even if he was alone he was constantly under the spotlight. He knew he had to prove he was stronger. That he wasn’t scared of anything or anyone.
That’s how he would spend the majority of his afterlife: surrounded by his constant eyes, recording every movement he himself ever made.
So that’s why he felt so excited when he turned off every single monitor except for the bigger one in front of him. He shut down every camera or microphone around him. Unrecorded. Unregistered moments.
A shiver ran down his spine.
After seeing that ghost of his past back again after seven years of absence he had to see something. Something that was his and his only.
What he was looking for was an old memory, one that he had to update digitally from his old headset.
Everything was meticulously categorised so it didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for.
The video started.
And he was almost 45 years younger, he had a different - and much heavier - headset and an ‘old pal’ next to him.
They were in the middle of an animated conversation in a remote bar in the pride ring. Everybody was keeping their distance from them and the moody bartender kept sending them drink after drink.
«Television is much more than photography you radio obsessed demon. Television is alive, it’s thrilling!» Vox exclaimed standing up and stomping his foot on the chair in front of him. Alastor looked at the action with little to no reaction, his usual smile plastered on his face.
«You, young man, are as loud as a cow at the slaughterhouse. That is in no way an Overlord behaviour.» he said squeezing his shoulder and inviting Vox to sit again.
Vox blinked in confusion - and slight worry because of the metaphor - before pouting as a scolded child. He got himself back on the high stools next to the counter dangling his feet.
Alastor poured another whiskey in his glass.
«I admire your enthusiasm, but you have to understand that Hell is different from Earth. You cannot show demons your… moving pictures and expect them to simply follow you. You need to plan. To be strategic. Logical.» he offered the drink to Vox, who looked at the goldish liquid with skepticism.
Alastor’s smile grew bigger. «A peace offer?». Vox sighed and gulped it down in one shot, much to Alastor’s disapproval.
«I think you’re complicating your life too much! I can hypnotise people!» he pointed at his eyes as the pupil changed, but Alastor was unfazed.
«It doesn’t work on me.»
«Yeah I still have to understand why…» he sighed as his head started to spin. His face became a bit foggy, just for a moment.
That made Alastor grin wider. «Is the strong and powerful aspiring Overlord feeling a bit dizzy?»
«Fuck you I am not. You’re just-» he looked down at his empty glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it. «I am an Overlord! ‘M not aspiring to be anything you pompous-» but he was cut off by Alastor cupping Vox’s hands with his and helping him pour the drink. Vox’s heart skipped a beat as his antennas sparkled.
«You were saying?» he hummed, fully aware of what he was doing.
«Fuck you.»
Alastor’s smiled softened «Charming.» and Vox smiled back, rolling his eyes.
They had these kind of conversations every time they hang out. They would go to a bar and sit far away from everyone, start bickering, try to get a deal one from the other only to call it even and repeat this cycle every few days. Vox kept convincing himself that these encounters weren’t a big deal but things like that, like that genuine smile, made him doubt that.
Vox drank his whiskey quickly, just to see Alastor’s ear flicker in dismay, a gesture Vox had learnt to recognise over the years.
He took the bottle and refilled his and Alastor’s empty glass.
«You do not understand what it means to be an Overlord just as much as you do not understand how to enjoy your drink.» Alastor said turning on his stool and leaning with his back on the counter.
«AH! Alcohol gets you drunk. That’s the big meaning behind it.»
Vox was about to chug down his whiskey when he felt something brushing over his side. As he yelped Alastor snickered, trying to camouflage it with a cough.
«AÆl- he glitched - what are you doing?»
«As you can see I am not doing anything.» he said raising his hands to prove his point. Vox straightened his back, looking at his surroundings in confusion.
His fogged brain was trying to process whether there was a threat or not. He felt electricity build up in his body.
As he raised his glass, he felt it again, something brushing his side, just lightly, but, when he turned, his eyes could only scan thin air.
«What is going on?» he mumbled putting the drink down.
Alastor didn’t answer, but he was having fun. Vox could see it by that stupid tail of his that was slightly wagging.
If it was his doing… oh no.
The tendrils came out of nowhere and wrapped around his torso, caressing his stomach and sides slowly.
Vox felt electricity between his fingers and in his antennas. He clamped his mouth shut with his hands, slightly kicking his feet.
«Is everything alright Vox?» Vox shook his head, little sparkles all around him. That fucker…
One of those tentacles circled around the center of his tummy, caressing the blue skin. He could feel the tip lightly scratching the sensitive area, making his body tremble.
It was so agonisingly slow. The gesture felt both sweet and mean, as if it were Alastor’s fingers toying with him.
Then he increased the pace.
Vox’s face started trembling, the image of his expression danced on the screen for a moment, deforming his flat features. Alastor came closer to his prey, enjoying every second.
«Maybe it would be better if you just let yourself…-» the tentacles that were around his stomach changed direction and dug in his hips «…Laugh.»
Vox giggles sparkled, as static electricity vibrated around him. He tried so hard to contain himself, but once the first chuckle was out he could not stop.
«AHAHAHAHL nohohoho.»
«No? But I’m not doing anything my dear! I think you had one too many of these.» he said sliding away the man’s drink, saving it from being destroyed.
«Yohohou knohow dæ-ámňņ well what you’re dohohoing.» Vox managed to say while trying to push his tentacles away.
«Of course I do.» he got closer, more tentacles coming from all around him. Vox felt his heart pounding in his chest, his face a mixture of fear and excitement. A stupid wobbly smile was plastered on his screen.
«And you’re enjoying every single second.» had Vox been a little less drunk he would have probably tried to retort, but all he could do was stare at Alastor’s tendrils.
Two of them wrapped around his wrists, raising his hands.
«Oh noho don’t y҉̗͚͚̯̋̏̍̑O̸͎͕̒̽͐̏U҉͓̦̰̘̌́̏̾͆ DARE ALASTOR!» the tentacles danced in front of him, circling around his underarms. Two of them were near his sides, and no matter how hard he tried to pull at his restraints he couldn’t free himself.
«Oh how I like seeing you like this.» Alastor sighed «So helpless.»
«Ahahahahahl Ihihi ha-hatehehe yohohor stupid gahames.» he protested. He was still sat on his absurdly high stool, his feet trying to touch the floor to push himself back. But there was nowhere to run.
Every demon in the place had already fled, believing that the Radio Demon had found his new victim. Well they weren’t completely wrong.
«Do not lie to me.» Alastor caressed Vox’s screen with a single finger, and fake sweat flashed on his face. «You love my games. And besides, a powerful Overlord like you should laugh at the face of danger.» that actually made Vox titter.
Anything said by Alastor made him laugh.
«Let me see your smile.»
All of the tentacles attacked at the same time, some caressing his skin, some scratching at the fabric of his clothes. They were under his arms, on his stomach, meaningly attacking his hips.
The laugh that left his throat gave Alastor goosebumps. It was loud, the loudest he had ever heard from him and it was so… carefree.
All the sense of control, the pressure of becoming a powerful Overlord, the high standards the man held on himself all crumbled down. And he was just helplessly laughing in front of his friend, eyes closed, not afraid to be hurt.
Unfortunately for him he was definitely too sensitive though and the moment a tendril flicked his antenna he started to glitch.
«NOHOHOHOHŒĦØ-»
A spark of electricity made the entire place blackout for a moment, before the lights came back on. Alastor looked at the display of power both amazed and awed.
The man was really strong.
«Be careful my friend-» Alastor’s voice came from much closer than before «We wouldn’t want you to short circuit would we?»
He decided to give him a little break.
The moment the tendrils freed him, Vox turned his back and held the counter with both of his hands, looking for stability.
He could not stop the giggles and titters leaving his body, feeling even drunken than before even though the alcohol was starting to wear off.
However, before Vox could stop laughing, a single tentacle snuck under the his shirt, through his sleeve, slowly and gently caressing his underarm with its tip. The small movement was driving Vox mad.
He collapsed on the counter, laughter now pouring out of him. His feet were kicking the air. The free arm was pounding on the surface, not lucid enough to try to free himself.
He let his head rest on the table, the screen tilted toward Alastor.
«Yohohouh bihihihitch.» he giggled before trying to pry away a new tendril that was slipping under his shirt, targeting his stomach.
His feet kicked harder and quicker as he started to hiccup. «Ihi- IHĮĦĮ- chahaæn’ț.» his voice changed and distorted.
Alastor drank another glass, closing his eyes and enjoying the flavour.
«Sooo» he stood up next to the giggling mess. «Do we wanna make a deal?» he asked making his tentacles stop their torture and back away.
Vox took a few seconds to compose himself before lifting his head and facing the other demon.
Giggles were still stuck in his throat, threatening to leave his body at every word. «A deahal?» he straightened his back and fixed his shirt, now turning his entire body towards the friend.
«I’m not selling my soul for some T̵̲̫̈́̉͗̂͆-tickles. You can’t be that stupid.»
«I am not, my friend. And for once I do not care for your soul! Oh no no no! I would like…-» he let the anticipation roll on Vox’s nerves as he approached him with twitching fingers. «-for you to never drink whiskey in such an inconsiderate way. You either taste your liquor or you don’t drink at all. You do not gobble your alcohol. You understand that young man don’t you?» and as he pronounced the last sentence, he started tracing invisible circles on Vox’s sides.
Vox closed his eyes and the giggle that escaped his lips was a mixture of ticklish agony and amusement.
«Are you finding my request funny?» his fingers danced on his sides.
«Oh c’mohohn Ahahal.» he kicked his feet again, very careful not to hit the demon in front of him. «Ihiht is fuhuhucking hilariohohohus.» he managed to say.
Alastor was not amused.
«Well if you think this is hilarious I cannot imagine what you’d think of t̷̥̲͎͇̤̒̈́̔h̵̳̪̰͋̊ȉ̵̭̦̰̊̉̒s̶͈͉͙͕̥̅̚.» as his voice distorted he drilled his thumbs in Vox’s hips, scratching slightly under his clothes.
Vox’s face became black for a few seconds, before returning to his loud self, pounding with his free hands on Alastor’s chest.
«Such a sweet sound.»
«Ḍ̷̙̙̪̏́̏̒͊e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿l̸̳͓͔͇̗̋͌̈ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄.» his glitched and distorted voice came so soft to Alasto’s ear.
Alastor stopped with a chuckle.
«You enjoyed it.» he said before stepping away.
«Oh well don’t think I didn’t notice your tail wagging.» the tv demon whispered with a smile on his face.
Alastor turned himself, hiding his back and his stupid soft tail, a small blush colouring his cheeks.
Vox laughed again, a genuine laugh, and then grabbed his own glass. The older man way eyeing him, fingers ready to summon his power once more.
Vox drank slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste.
Alastor smiled at him, the genuine smile reserved to these late night, where the alcohol in their veins made their heads lighter and their words easier to leave their lips.
The words Alastor pronounced forty-five years ago echoed in the empty room. They sounded sincere, no filter altering them, just honesty and liquor on his tongue.
«You’re like a sparkle in the night Vox. You make this dark world brighter with your smile. Remember that»
Vox closed his eyes and let out a sight. He hugged himself for a moment and let those words sink in, burning his soul.
He allowed himself to feel this way for a few seconds, before turning everything off and straightening his jacket.
He had to go now.
He needed to find out what that pompous old prick was planning.
~~~
I feel like I’ve been working on this fics for a month, but it’s actually been a couple of weeks.
I loved exploring Vox and Alastor’s dynamic and showing Alastor being kind of a mentor for Vox.
Initially Valentino had a part in this fic, but in the end his role got cut off, but who knows! I might explore their relationship and how it affected Vox and Alastor in future fics! In this universe (yeah, the one I created pretty much for this single tickle fic) Al and Vox originally had a strong relationship, something between platonic and romantic, that got ruined when Vox met Valentino and started hanging out with him (Even though I strongly believe that in the serie Vox was the one that fell in love and Alastor was just trying to get something out of him and eventually got tired of Vox and left him)
The first scene felt really like when Hamilton and Burr go drink together at the beginning of the musical ahahahaha.
I don’t know when will I publish the new fic, it will take me a long time before I am able to write so much again.
Let me know what you think guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
#tickle fic#hazbin hotel tickle#lee!vox#ticklish!vox#ler!alastor#i hope it’s well written I’m stressing so much#i started writing with no idea for a plot#but i can totally see Alastor getting mad for not drinking in tge ‘right way’#and Vox being an impatient little shit about it#idk I love them so much#and really I need to get lee!vox out of my system
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damn you spoil us but just some smut with the bondage you talked about and everything.. without g!p, like there needs to be more motzu fics ngll
Trouble
Momo x Tzuyu
CW: Smut, Bondage, NSFW, strap on, fingering, pussy eating, moments of fluff
Word count: 3150
A/N: I’m sorry it took so long to do this😭I had a phase where I just didn’t feel like writing smut. Hope it was worth the wait.
“Well why not”, Tzuyu asked Momo, pestering her because she wanted to do part of her mission but Momo had figured it out and was not going to fall for it.
“You know why”, Momo replied, rolling her eyes, continuing to scroll through her phone.
“Please please please”, Tzuyu asked again, shaking Momo dramatically, “I’ll do anything in return”, she promised in a hurry and accidentally ended up knocking Momo’s bottle of water over, causing it to splash over Momo’s shirt and hands. “Oh!”, Tzuyu gasped in surprise.
Momo had her mouth open in disbelief as water begin to soak into her shirt and drip off her arms. Momo took a deep breath and slowly got up, rolling up the bottom of her shirt, exposing her abs before turning to look at her.
Tzuyu had her arms folded, a defiant look on her face and she looked away, pretending that she didn’t really care but her eyes kept glancing back to Momo, specifically her abs.
Momo stood in front of her, looking down at her, “You’ve become really annoying and disrespectful you know. Never listening to me or anyone else anymore.”, saying this, Momo grabbed Tzuyu by her arms and dragged her to her room before making her sit on the bed.
Tzuyu still being a brat, just sighed and rolled her eyes, “It’s just some water….and it wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to me.”
Momo couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “Is that so….I see. Well, I’ll listen to what you said and you said you’ll whatever I wanted so now”, Momo said, going through her drawer while Tzuyu curiously watched, wondering where this was headed, “I’ll do what I want….with you”, saying this Momo grabbed Tzuyu’s hands and handcuffed them quickly.
“What….”, Tzuyu panicked at the suddenness of Momo’s action and the restraining of her hands for a moment before relaxing again, still unsure what Momo would do.
Momo pushed Tzuyu on her back causing her to yelp and climbed on top of her, straddling her before whispering in her ear, “You wanted me to do your challenge, well first you have to do mine. Don’t scream.”
Tzuyu felt her heart beginning to pound, “is…is that it?”. Momo nodded and then before Tzuyu knew it, Momo tied her handcuffs against the headboard. “What are you….”, Tzuyu began again but Momo silenced her by putting a finger against her lips.
“Your challenge has already started…do not scream until I am done with you.”, Momo said, her thumb pressed against Tzuyu’s chin. Then she began to trace her finger down, lower and lower until she reached Tzuyu’s top, threatening to pull it down.
Tzuyu watched in anticipation, curious about how far Momo would go. She was even a bit excited and when she unconsciously bit her lip, Momo smirked and pulled it down roughly, exposing Tzuyu’s tits causing Tzuyu to breathe in sharply.
Momo wasn’t done yet, in fact she didn’t even start, she moved her hand lower onto Tzuyu’s pants now, unbuttoning and pulling it off along with her top, leaving her only in her panties.
Tzuyu couldn’t help but squirm a bit, feeling quite exposed and vulnerable but stopped and softly gasped when she felt Momo’s cold finger on her navel.
“Now. We. Shall. See.”, Momo said gritting her teeth as her hands began to linger over Tzuyu’s waist and thighs, touching her lightly, sending shivers all over her and causing her to inadvertently close her legs tightly.
Momo smirked and forced her legs open, a finger tracing her pussy from the bottom to top, softly through her panties, “Close your legs again….”, Momo warned, her tone stern. She continued to gently rub, top to bottom, bottom to top, watching Tzuyu’s reaction carefully, doing this for a minute or so before suddenly adding another finger and pressing against her pussy causing Tzuyu to take a sharp breath. Momo smiled smugly, already enjoying her power over her junior immensely.
“Ah, you are doing well for now….lets see how long it lasts.”, saying this Momo slips her hands inside Tzuyu’s panties causing Tzuyu to gasp and begins to play with her clit which makes Tzuyu squirm again.
It’s getting more and more difficult for Tzuyu to not vocalize her feelings, the situation went from thrilling to arousing to straight up pleasure much too soon. It didn’t help that Momo was so good at it. The pleasure kept building up forcing Tzuyu to bite her lips and she realized just how close to cumming she was, just a moment away, so close and then Momo stopped abruptly though her hands were still on Tzuyu’s pussy, making Tzuyu whine in frustration.
As Tzuyu’s breathing began to calm, she looked up at Momo in confusion and frustration who looked back at her with a satisfied expression, “You’re doing really well so far. I guess you’ll win at this rate so I’ll just”, she begins to move her hands away, “stop.”
“N-no, please!”, Tzuyu blurted out quickly and then looked away, her cheeks coloring as she herself couldn’t believe she said that out loud.
Momo smirked, “Oh? Ok if that’s what you want.”, Momo slipped her hand back inside Tzuyu’s panties and got to work again, bringing Tzuyu to the brink very quickly.
Tzuyu was whining and moaning as Momo rubbed her, she almost couldn’t believe how good Momo was, how quick she was to making her cum. She stiffened her body, focusing so hard on not closing her legs after Momo’s warning, she couldn’t have Momo stop, not again, not right now, not when she’s so…so close to cumming. Her hands fought against the cuffs but it was of no use, Tzuyu felt her waist rise as she was getting closer and closer, her eyes closed as she braced herself for her release.
Momo smirked seeing Tzuyu act like this, knowing very well the reason for it and slowed down for a second, Tzuyu opened her eyes immediately, ready to protest but just as quickly Momo thrust two fingers in, causing Tzuyu to cum, her eyes rolled and her mouth remained open, unable to make a sound as she experienced a mind numbing orgasm, her lower body thrashing around while she was cumming. After what seemed like ages, Tzuyu finally came down from her high, panting hard, her vision blurry and she blinked slowly several times to clear her eyes.
As she began to relax, Momo wiggled her fingers against the roof of her pussy causing Tzuyu to sharply gasp and look at Momo who could only grin at her as she started to push her fingers deeper inside Tzuyu until they were knuckle deep. Tzuyu could already feel her pleasure build up rapidly, she was still a bit sensitive and it wasn’t going to take much to make her cum. And Momo was figuring that out as she began to finger her expertly. Soon enough Tzuyu began to writhe in pleasure as she came again.
Panting, she struggled against her cuffs futilely trying to regain any sort of control back, swallowing hard, she looked at Momo who had a smug expression.
“You are so…”, Momo grins, “sensitive and easy to figure out”.
Tzuyu says nothing, still trying to calm herself down, averting her eyes from Momo.
Momo chuckles, “Ahn…you’re ignoring me…that’s how you want to play right now? Okay”, she smugly grins and suddenly takes Tzuyu’s panties off, “I’ll make it so that you can’t ignore me…”, Momo decides, slowly fingering Tzuyu, almost teasingly, “but I can’t decide whether to make it so that you can’t ignore me from desperation or pleasure”, saying that Momo starts rubbing her clit with her other hand while beginning to properly finger Tzuyu.
Whining and sighing heavily, Tzuyu grits her teeth hard and tries not to focus on Momo but it’s impossible. She can’t even keep her focus off for a seconds before she’s losing her breath. Having cum a couple times already she was quite sensitive and Momo was figuring her body out so easily. As Tzuyu’s third orgasm approaches, Momo moves her hand away from Tzuyu’s clit which causes Tzuyu to sigh in relief, she’s still close but suddenly it doesn’t feel like she’s on fire. Atleast that’s what she thought for a few seconds before she felt Momo tongue on her clit instead. She let out a strangled cry as Momo sucking on her made her cum instantly. Her whole body thrashes around as she cums, experiencing new heights of pleasure as Momo doesn’t stop, continuing to finger her and suck on her clit. Tzuyu couldn’t breath anymore, it felt like her orgasmic high was never going to end. She had barely finished cumming when she was already approaching another orgasm. She couldn’t think anymore, her hands jerked around helplessly while her legs were squeezing Momo’s head involuntarily. And moments later she came again. It was overwhelmingly pleasurable now, Tzuyu’s body wasn’t prepared to handle this much stimulation at once and for a few moments Tzuyu went numb, she could think to a certain extent and wondered what happened but before she could reach to any conclusions, she was brought back when her feelings returned just in time for her to cum yet again. This was too much. Going from being numb to feeling herself cum in a matter of seconds knocked the wind out of her. She screamed in shock and pleasure as she cummed her brains out, she could feel her pussy throbbing and contracting so hard. And then Momo finally withdrew her fingers, slowed down her licking, lapping Tzuyu’s juices around slowly as Tzuyu’s legs slowly loosened around her head and Momo moved her face.
She was grinning, her face a mess from all of Tzuyu’s juices. Meanwhile, Tzuyu was breathing hard, she felt like she’d never be able to catch her breath again, her legs feeling wobbly and weak…
“You lost, you screamed…”, Momo pointed out grinning smugly.
Tzuyu said nothing, closing her eyes and focusing on breathing, her face was sweaty and flushed now.
“And because you lost. You will face your punishment”, Momo stated with finality, a hint of excitement in her voice.
Tzuyu didn’t pay much attention, she heard Momo say she lost the challenge but it didn’t matter to her right now, she just wanted to rest and relax a little right now. She felt Momo get up and mess about near the wardrobe but she didn’t care enough to see.
A minute later, Tzuyu had stopped panting but her breathing was still a bit heavy, she heard Momo come closer again and opened her eyes just in time to see Momo’s hand closing in on her face and Tzuyu panicked and jerked, trying to get up but having hands tied just made her fall back.
Momo chuckled, “Relax Tzuyu, it’s just a blindfold….”
Tzuyu stopped, unsure of what’s happening, “why..?”.
“You’ll see-or find out soon enough anyway”, Momo teased and put the blindfold on her.
Tzuyu couldn’t use her arms or see anything now, it brought out a sense of panic in her, like she was in danger, vulnerable and wanted to immediately tell Momo to stop all this and just let her go but she then she felt Momo stroke her hair and cheeks and then whispered in her ear, “It might be feeling scary right now but trust me I’m going to take good care of you”, Tzuyu then felt Momo press her lips and kiss her intensely, it caught her by surprise and she gasped but then relaxed quickly as Momo kept rubbing her cheek. They made out for a few moments before Momo pulled away. Tzuyu felt herself blush, it felt weird, feeling so restrained, not be able to see and also for Momo to kiss her like that. She kinda liked it, it made her feel strangely safe with Momo, especially when she was stroking her so gently. She didn’t want to admit it but she wanted more. Her thoughts were interrupted when Momo spread Tzuyu’s legs once again causing her to squeal in surprise and held her left leg down, strapping her thigh and then her ankle against the bed and then doing the same to the other leg.
Tzuyu was feeling embarrassed now, her whole body was practically tied up or rather, restrained and she was even blindfolded, she was so exposed…but why was that now starting to turn her on a little, she bites her lips in anticipation waiting for Momo to do something. But instead it sounds like Momo is either taking her clothes off or she’s putting something on, Tzuyu frowned as it didn’t make sense either way. Momo then got next to her, her hand brushing against Tzuyu’s waist when Momo kissed Tzuyu again, her hands cupping her cheeks and Tzuyu felt giddy and giggled.
She liked it, she really liked being kissed by Momo , she admitted to herself as she felt Momo sit infront of her legs, especially with the way Momo was cupping and rubbing her cheeks and….wait…if Momo was cupping her cheeks then what was touch her waist-
Her thoughts were brushed aside when she felt something that was most definitely not Momo’s tongue or hands begin to spread her pussy, she gasped out loud and breathed in sharply, if she wasn’t blindfolded, her eyes would have popped out of her sockets. Her fists clenched and her mouth stayed open.
“Mmmm…are you ready for it Tzuyu”, Momo said smugly as she looked down at the helpless girl. She had put on her strap on which was 6 inches long and 3 inches in girth and was poking at Tzuyu’s entrance, grinning as she knew what she was about to make Tzuyu experience.
“Ah-w-what is…”, Tzuyu whined, gritting her teeth.
“It’s my friend….who will deliver the punish on you for losing”, Momo chuckled, “Don’t worry though, I’ll be in control the whole time and make sure you don’t…suffer too much”.
Before Tzuyu could take all of that in, Momo began to push and make her take something else in, stretching her entrance and pushing the strap in making Tzuyu gasp and moan more as Momo slowly put it in, inch by inch. Tzuyu helplessly thrashed about as Momo filled her up, she couldn’t believe how full she was feeling, it was hard to breath and not being able to move or see only made everything feel more intense.
Momo gave Tzuyu some time to adjust, not moving her hips and instead used the opportunity to play with Tzuyu’s tits while Tzuyu calmed down a little. It wasn’t easy when she was filled like that and having her tits played with but Tzuyu eventually stopped breathing hard and Momo began to slowly move, thrusting slowly, giving Tzuyu all the time to get used to it and as Tzuyu’s moans got louder and more insistent, Momo started to move a bit faster, pulling out almost the whole strap before ramming it back in. It was mind numbingly good for Tzuyu, it felt like pleasure was literally being injected straight into her which it was in a way. She could only moan and whine, calling out Momo’s name every now and then as Momo now began to seriously rail her roughly.
Momo had grabbed Tzuyu by her arms and was pounding her relentlessly, enjoying the moans Tzuyu was letting out. Tzuyu was in 7th heaven, she didn’t know Momo could do any of what she had been doing to her and now she was wishing she experienced it sooner. Her toes were curling hard as she was getting close to cumming, she had lost track of how many times Momo had already made her cum today. “I’m…I-I-I’m..” Tzuyu cried out trying to let Momo know she was close.
Momo smirked, “Do it, cum for me again Tzuyu, I’ll stop if don’t do it soon.”, she kept fucking her hard, deep and rough until she heard Tzuyu cry out as she started to cum and pushed in as deep as she could while Tzuyu nearly lost her mind cumming that hard.
Tzuyu’s whole body jolted and shivered as she came from Momo fucking her, she could feel each little and big movement Momo made in her and she felt like she was cumming forever. She wanted to scream so bad with how overstimulated she felt but couldn’t because the orgasms were draining her energy and making it hard to focus. After nearly a minute, Tzuyu finally came down from her high, breathing heavily and feeling at peace, Momo’s strap still inside her.
Momo smiled and took the blindfold off of her and Tzuyu blinked hard, the lights seeming very bright and it took her a few seconds to adjust before she looked at Momo’s smiling face and then down at her own body to see Momo in her and she blushed but before she could look away, Momo kissed her passionately and Tzuyu felt blissful again, she couldn’t help but smile shyly when Momo pulled away. Momo grinned at her and began to pull the strap out, taking her time, grinding a bit even causing Tzuyu to inhale sharply and gasp before she groaned as Momo pulled it all out. Tzuyu took a deep breath and sighed, feeling a bit annoyed that Momo made such a show of pulling out that she felt somewhat horny again but she was never going to say that or admit it.
“You were such a good girl, you took it so well”, Momo teased.
“Sh-shut up…”, Tzuyu said quickly as her face flushed while Momo began to undo the restraints.
After Tzuyu’s body was free again, she stretched her limbs with a sigh and fell back down, taking a deep breath and laying peacefully but then noticed Momo staring at her.
“What…?”, she asked.
Momo rolled her eyes, “You’re really selfish you know, I did all that for you and you haven’t even thought of doing something for me”
Tzuyu blinked and then smiled, “I was just resting for a moment, of course I’m going to make you happy too. Just give me a second while you lay down too”
Momo sighed rolling her eyes and laid next to Tzuyu, she closed her eyes for a second and then immediately opened them when she felt Tzuyu climb on top of her pinning her arms over her head and holding them there with one hand while she reached for the handcuffs with the other and put them around Momo’s wrists.
“What are you doing???”, Momo demanded
Tzuyu bit her lips and grinned, “Unnie, I didn’t like how smug you were the whole time, taking advantage of me like that…I’m just going to show how it feels like…don’t worry though I’ll make you feel nice and happy like you did to me…..”
#ask me anything#answered asks#anon ask#twice#kpop gg#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#twice smut#twice scenarios#twice ships#twice fluff#twice momo#twice tzuyu#chou tzuyu#hirai momo#motzu#motzu smut#momo smut#tzuyu smut#momo#tzuyu#momo fluff#tzuyu fluff#MoTzu fluff
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Find a cure for my heart | hobbit
pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑
On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.
warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end
words: 5,6k
an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!
+ masterlist + rules
🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3
Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.
In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.
They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?
Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.
You had your own story. A different one.
But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.
You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.
You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.
Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.
Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"
Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.
It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.
A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.
Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.
The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.
And so he did.
Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.
Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.
You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.
And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.
There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.
Especially you.
There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.
No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.
The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.
That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.
Or the Elvenking.
Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.
"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.
In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.
"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.
You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.
The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.
The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.
That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.
Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?
Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.
Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.
'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'
Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.
Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.
You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.
It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.
You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.
When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.
You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.
What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.
There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.
You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.
It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.
You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.
Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.
The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.
"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.
His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"
"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."
Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.
You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.
Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.
Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.
You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.
The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.
Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.
You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.
Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.
⸺
Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.
"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"
You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.
She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.
"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.
Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.
Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.
"Tilda–"
You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.
The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.
⸺
You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.
Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.
This had to be a dream.
Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.
Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.
A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.
"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.
For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.
The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.
"What are you doing here?"
"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"
Ah, straight to the point.
"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.
Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.
This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.
You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.
One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.
"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."
He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.
Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.
That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.
It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.
Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."
The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.
You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."
Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.
"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"
A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.
"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."
"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."
"But –"
"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.
You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.
"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."
"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.
He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.
The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.
Now, there remained little of that stillness.
"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"
"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"
The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.
Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.
You searched for a response inside you but found none.
All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.
Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.
His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.
Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.
The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.
You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"
"It was indeed, and far beyond that."
The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"
Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.
He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."
How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?
They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.
While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.
He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.
You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.
You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.
You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.
"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"
He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.
Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.
"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."
"He noticed it all?"
"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."
You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."
"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."
"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"
Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."
You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"
Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."
You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.
"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.
"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."
In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.
Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.
Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.
He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.
As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.
"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.
While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.
You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.
Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.
"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."
There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.
This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.
Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.
Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.
They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.
You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.
Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.
With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.
#thranduil x reader#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x you#thranduil#thranduil oropherion#king thranduil#king of mirkwood#the hobbit x you#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit fanfiction
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i i love your brazilian reader so much😭😭 we dont really have that kind of representation😔 maybe could you write something with her and young daryl? maybe she could be an exchange student and got friends with daryl and is teaching him how to make brazilian food(and desserts too)? that would be adorable!! i love your writtings soo much💕
Run Away With You | Daryl Dixon x Young!Brazilian!Fem!Reader
Summary: Meeting Daryl Dixon was one of the best things to ever happen to you. He was introverted and shy, but with you, he was free to be himself. While preparing one of your favourite desserts, you suggest something to Daryl.
Genre: Fluff.
Era: Pre apocalypse.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse.
Word count: 839.
A/n: I wrote this at midnight while almost falling asleep, but I hope you like this! And thank you, @v1rtualv4mp, so much for helping me with the translations! However, some phrases are from Google translate and the recipe for the dessert in this was found from Google, so please feel free to correct me regarding any mistakes!
And with this fic done and my inbox cleared out, I can now officially say that requests are reopened! Feel free to send them in!
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“Should I fill it all the way up or nah?” Daryl questioned you, holding the tray in his hands.
You shifted your attention from the stove to him. “No, only three fourths of the way. That's what my mom taught me.”
Daryl nodded and followed your instructions, carefully pouring the custard into the dough-filled muffin cups. Afterwards he handed the muffin tray to you, carefully observing as you placed the tray in the preheated oven.
Daryl leaned back against the counter. “How long do we need to bake it fer?” he questioned, motioning towards the oven.
You joined him against the counter, leaning your head against his shoulder. Daryl stiffened momentarily before relaxing, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer into his side. He pressed a soft, tender kiss against your temple, smiling softly when you let out a small giggle.
“For about one and a half hours,” you answered him, checking the time on your wristwatch. “So we have to take it out at about four-thirty. Then we let it cool down for ten minutes and then we have ourselves some delicious Pastéis De Nata.”
Daryl hummed. “Portuguese Custard tart?”
You rolled your eyes at him, sending a playful smile up at him. “Sure, if you want to be a falante de inglês chato,” you joked, earning a faint, playful jab to your side, making you laugh. “Hey! Do you even know what I said?”
“Nope,” Daryl replied, shaking his head with a faint smile on his face. “But I do know tha' it probably wasn't a compliment.”
“You're right about that,” you laughed and nodded, nuzzling yourself snuggly against his side. However, you withdrew from his hold when he flinched in pain, sending him a concerned look. “What's wrong, amor?”
Daryl shook his head. “Nothin'. Jus' my father who got a bit carried away last nigh'. Nothin' I can't handle.”
Your heart sank to the depths of your stomach at his revelation. You took his hand in yours and interlaced your fingers, squeezing his hand reassuringly. However, you knew that Daryl hated addressing his home life out loud, so you opted to try and cheer him up.
“You know, we could run away together.”
Daryl raised his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile gracing his beautiful features. “Yeah?” he asked, looking into your eyes. “And where would we even go?”
“Brazil,” you answered instantly, shrugging your shoulders. “I might be biased, but I do believe that it's one of the most beautiful countries in the world. I just know you'd love it.”
Daryl thought it over for a moment, before letting out an approving hum. “Well, let's say I agree to run away with ya to Brazil. What would we even do?”
“A gente poderia ir no Carnaval, e talvez visitar meus avós,” you mumbled to yourself, soothingly rubbing your thumb over your boyfriend's knuckles. You giggled at the confused look he gave you. “It doesn't matter what I said. We could do anything you want, gatinho. Just name it and I'd make it happen.”
“I've always wanted to go check out what Brazilians do during that festival ya keep ravin' 'bout,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “So we could start with tha'?”
You smiled and nodded. “Anything you want, amor. We'd have to wait for Carnaval to start in a couple of months, but we could make it happen.”
Daryl smiled. “Have I ever told ya tha' I love ya?”
“You have,” you nodded, stepping into Daryl's arms and peering up at him. “And I do, too. Eu te amo tanto.”
You leaned in and kissed Daryl on the lips, savouring the taste of him. However, the moment was short-lived, because the power soon went out, causing you and Daryl to look at each other in confusion.
“Well,” Daryl started, looking towards the oven. “Guess tha's gon' take longer to get ready.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Seriously? That's your concern?”
“Wha' can I say?” Daryl mused, sending you a playful smile. “I was really lookin' forward to tha' custard tart. Would've packed some fer our journey to Brazil.”
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
Translations:
falante de inglês chato: boring English speaker.
amor: love
A gente poderia ir no Carnaval, e talvez visitar meus avós: We could participate in the Carnaval, and maybe go visit my grandparents.
Eu te amo tanto: I love you so much.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#twd daryl#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl x y/n#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#young!daryl dixon#young!daryl#young!daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#norman reedus#norman reedus x reader
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Hello , got any fics for me?
I howled with this gif. 😆
Okay. So my beloved Ez [@sylasthegrim 💜] just posted their fic recs for Aemond Targayren that is filled with some of the amazing talent we have on Tumblr. This post is going to be a shout out to some of my favorites on ao3 for those who prefer that web UX vs the Tumblr app [which makes me queasy sometimes].
💜 First off, the above mentioned Ez posts on ao3. Our origins story was literally me commenting on every fucking chapter of their story Love is a Downfall [amazing] and it slowly, but surely, won them over.
💜 Literally anything by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew. Her narration is fucking brilliant, rich, witty, and, of course, angsty as fuck. [A personal favorite of mine is Now I'm Covered in You, which I have reread an obscene amount of times.]
💜@humanpurposes has the penname lolololola on ao3. One of my favorites is Hysteria, but she posted a new Florismond story that was fucking amazing [like everything she writes].
💜@barbieaemond is also on ao3. King of Qarth is her latest piece and the au idea, the narration, just every word is so brilliant.
💜 Winterwood by @lonnson is another au that mixes dark, gothic fairytales into the GRRM world in this seamless way. Her Aemond is one of my favorite literary versions.
💜@moris-auri has her wonderful stories on ao3. Read them all. Sermon of Desire was delicious, but seriously, I just enjoy everything Miranda shares with us.
💜the thing about dragons by @killergirlfuria is an isekai when the old gods of the GRRM world snatch up a soul to send back and try to stop the Dance of the Dragons. Her prose is some of my favorite, and I love the mixture she does of modern into Westeros, since the OC is from the 21st century.
💜Anything by honeydwine. Her Alysmond has set a bar that HBO will surely disappoint, but I'm okay because I will go back and reread these stories.
Again, these are just a few off the top of my head and my subscriptions.
To my Tumblr kindred spirits, please post any UNs I may have forgotten or share some of your favorite stories from ao3 in the comments! 🥰
Enjoy lovely!
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could you do a james potter X misophonia!reader
i have misophonia and have been struggling recently due to it,
if your not sure on what it is it’s where certain sounds trigger you, for example eating or pens tapping. Maybe a fic where he comfort her, normally when i’m triggered i either end up crying and walking away form the situation or i flip out at whoever is triggering me
ITS okay if not !! THANKYOU BBY
hey, sorry this took me so long to get to! writing this was an interesting experience. not sure if i want to do reader fics often but i'm not fully opposed to them either? anyway, i hope this brings you some comfort and is accurate(ish?) to your experience :)) sending lots of love <3
(feel free to send more requests if you like this!) (also feel free to send feedback!)
here you go:
Hogwarts had been busier than usual today. If you had been at home, maybe you would’ve just slipped on some noise cancelling headphones. But that isn’t really an option here, so you deal with it the best you can, hiding it out in your dorm on most days. Again, not an option today. You had way too many classes and clubs to go to. In the few minutes between, you go to the library. It literally has to be quiet there, right?
Of course, this is the one day James Potter and his friends finally decide to study (for once in their lives). You’re friends with Remus, and he seems alright. James— well, you try not to think too much about James. Thankfully, they aren’t making much noise, probably already having gotten a warning from Madam Pince.
It’s alright for a few minutes. But then you hear someone’s wand—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
You look over to the boys’ table. James, looking extremely focused, is tapping his wand on the edge of the table. He does look really busy. Maybe he’ll quit in a minute.
Nope. It just gets worse.
You feel a pressure in your head every time he taps his wand until it gets overwhelming. And then you snap.
“James, would you stop that?” you whisper-shout at him.
But you know it’s useless. You can’t study anymore anyway; you’re too overwhelmed. You pack your things and leave. You don’t notice James following after you until you’re outside the library and hear him shout after you.
“Wait,” he calls.
Despite yourself, you turn to him.
“Did I do something wrong?” James asks.
You bite back your immediate “yes”.
“The tapping was bothering me. It’s not your fault, though. I just—” you trail off, afraid he’ll laugh at you.
He’s got this weird look on his face, like he might.
“Remus hates it when I ‘chew loudly’,” James says. “Is it like that?”
“I guess? Listen, James, I just really want to be left alone right now.” You sigh.
“Ok, but before you leave— I think I might have a spell for you. We can go somewhere quieter?” James offers.
Reluctantly, you agree. James takes you to a spot on the Hogwarts grounds you haven’t seen yet. It’s a nice spot beneath a tree, with just bare grass and flowers blooming. You both sit down, and James points his wand at you.
“Woah, what’re you doing?” you shout.
“Just trust me,” James says.
You almost point out the obvious dangers of pointing a wand at someone’s head, but James seems so sincere and like maybe he’s done this before, so you let him.
He mumbles a spell and waves his wand in an unfamiliar pattern. Suddenly, it feels like your wearing your favorite noise-cancelling headphones, but so much better. You can’t even hear the light buzzing that you normally do.
“You have to teach me this spell,” you say enthusiastically.
The spell makes it a whisper to you, but the way James scrunches up his face tells you that maybe you were a bit loud.
“It worked then?” he asks.
You give him a thumbs up.
He takes out a piece of parchment and a quill and writes something down:
You know, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while. Go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?
There’s two checkboxes underneath: yes or YES
You smile and check the YES box, adding a smiley face next to it.
The two of you sit at the peaceful spot until the sun starts to go down. You start to come with him here often, and he teaches you the spell right after your Hogsmeade date.
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EHY I'VE BEEN READING A LOT OF FANFICTIONS LATELY
I know, who would have guess?? Anyway I wanted to send some appreciation all around to some of the fanfics I've read, because writers need some more appreciation in general.
so, in no particular order:
✨Here's a list of fanfics I've read/I'm reading that I think they're pretty good✨
Solid Stone Turns To Clay by @randyzorra - MK fic
A solid Johnshi fic set in a pirate au, I'm absolutely obsessed with it. It's a beautiful slow burn, where Johnny is a disgraced bounty hunter who's trying to regain his fame by stealing The Shadow, legendary cursed ship. Ship that so happens to have a certain someone as her captain. Honestly not only I love the romance, but also the friendship between Johnny and Kung Lao and Johnny and Baraka.
Beware that this fic is tagged as explicit, so check the tags carefully
Back There by houndhead - MK fic
Ehy, have you ever thought that Raiden wasn't there when the others went to Outworld to find Shang Tsung? Yeah what if they never told him what happened back there because of good ol' classic trauma? I'm in love with this concept and houndhead explores it in a very interesting way, showing us how each character would act after experiencing what happened at the lab. I also really love how the characters interact with each other, in the last chapter Tanya and Tomas are just perfect.
Raise The Blade (Make The Change) by cherrycola94 - MK fic
A very fun Johnshi fic that's written a little bit like a script, it has some added scene set before the game, some exploration of the canon through a Johnshi lense, ad finally it continues as a post canon, with a very fun story. While I was reading it I could see in my head the scene perfectly, like it was actually a movie. The second chapter has an AMAZING SCENE, like I was so in love that I have a wip of that scene. I should come back and finish it honestly. The new chapter had exactly the kind of scene I was craving for recently, I'm so happy they wrote it!
But I lowered my sword when you held me and swore (you'd stay, stay, stay) by @necromanticzz - MK fic
It's a johnshi fic with a Kenshi pov, where Kenshi has so many walls up doesn't want any help but Johnny just seems to be able to go through them without any problems. Honestly I also advice the other fic necromanticzz wrote about them, the way Kenshi gets chracterized in both of them is just *chef's kiss* perfect, beautiful, amazing. The two fics are just my favourite in the way Kenshi is written, applause all around, love it.
Koffee Shop Kombat by @loujitsushotsoup - MK fic
Because a classic coffee shop au is always needed. We have multiple ships, different writing styles between chaptes, changing with which character's pov we are following, and I love the creativity that was put in it. You maybe saw this post where I drew one of the scenes in this fic, so YOU KNOW that I mean it when i say that I love this fic. And I'm a big sucker for coffee shops as a setting, really love them in real life as well.
Cole's Chilli Recipe by @before-time-had-a-name - Ninjago fic
Another fic where I drew one of the scenes and it's because it deserves it. It's a lostshipping fic, very sweet, very cozy, honestly Cole and Geo make me incredibly emotional everytime and this fic also straight up picked me up and squashed me. I saw in some of the reblogs on my post that people went to check out the fic and I'm so happy about it because they deserve his work to be checked out. And honestly if I can give her more spotlight I will take the chance. Go check out this fic, it's very cool.
Here Comes Casey Jones by Invader_Sam - TMNT MM fic
Very sweet rasey fic that takes place post movie, with the turtles going to highschool and Raph meeting for the first time Casey Jones. What can I say? I just really love Rasey, and I love they're both clearly crushing on each other but they're not really saying it. And the fact that there's no unecessary teenage angst, they just really like each other, and I love that for them ❤
Think Of It As War Paint by less_depresso_more_espresso - TMNT 2012 fic
Another Rasey one, short and sweet, where both of them honestly are giving so much gender in my humble opinion. It's hard to explaning it without just saying all the fic, so we could say it's about them just chilling on a roof.
A Garden Across Our Collarbone by PittedPeaches - LMK fic
I think everyone and their mom already know this fic, and if you don't it would be my honor to talk to you about it. This for me is THE spicynoodle fic, it was one year of my life and honestly at the end of it I cried. This is a soulmate au, where demons sometimes have soulmates, and when that happen it's like they share skin, so they can write stuff on their body and it will appeared on the skin of their soulmate. It mostly starts like a rewriting of seson 1-2-3 by Red son's pov with this new dynamic, and then it becomes a new original timeline. The way this fic is everything to me, every chapter was an incredible experience, I fell in love with this fic at every chapter. So many beautiful scenes, written so beautifully, as I said this fic was 1 YEAR of my life. It was also a very difficult year, and I'm honestly so happy that this fic was there for that time of my life.
Desde el Principio by ShippingMyWorld - Nicktoons United fic
Okay idk If you saw me reblogging a bunch of Nicktoons fanart like two days ago, but just so you know I'm totally going into the rabbit hole of this fandom and I will be lost for a while. Now, this is a Danny Fenton/Manny Rivera fic, the tag has only two fics and both of them are from this writer.
I wish I had this commitment in my life, to just being THE ONLY one creating a specific content for something and still having the motivation of doing it
I read this fic last night, I finished it at 5 a.m. and I do not regret it at all, this was amazing
I actually recommend reading both fics because they are very good, I'm giving a shout out to this one because I think it's the one that made the biggest impact to me personally. ShippingMyWorld you did it, you converted me, I ship this now.
And that's the list, thank you so much to every fanfic writers that give us such amazing art everyday, you're the backbone of fandom!
#mortal kombat#lmk#tmnt#lego ninjago#nicktoons#always wanted to do a masterpost of fic recommendations and I finally did it#they're clearly more mk themed#because it's the only tag I've been browsing for a while#and if you see that all of them are tagged as johnshi no you didn't#it's not like I have the johnny cage/kenshi takahashi tag open 24/7#fic rec
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little helper
cont: working alongside shiu kong meant meeting toji and toji meeting you.
c/w: violence, reader is shorter than toji, reader has the luck ct (like haruta shigemo)
c: toji x reader
a/n: sorry if ooc and something i realised so far about my fics or drafts or writing or whatever is that i get too into the writing to add the x reader part oopsies guys, i'll try to make the reader and character make out every five seconds in the next fic trust!!!!
Being Shiu Kong's little helper was so relieving for him. First off, he didn't have to deal with the egos of other curse users and second, you were bubbly company.
You didn't fit the scene of being a handler at all but money was money so he couldn't blame you but he atleast show some concerns when the streaks under your eyes turn out less.
"What was it this time?"
He watches you wrap bandages around your wrists while he let the cigeratte dangle at his lips. He made sure to get a new lighter when he does go to the store, the lighter was being stubborn for this round's smoke.
"Well, after that one curse user with the pigtails was threatened by how I pointed him out, he sent his little curses at me." He breathed a sigh as you lit his cigeratte for him with a spare you have on yourself and he shook his head.
"Aren't you atleast a bit scared by how sharp you're being? You're down to three." Having looked at the small mirror in the mortuary, you stretched a bit at the skin under your eyes. Yep, just a bit more till you die, you guess. You shrugged at Shiu. If a bunch of curse users can't handle a bit of truth, they can simply drop dead at a bounty you'd present to them. Shiu scoffed in amusement, you were a gem.
"Anywho, just watch your mouth for the next. He's not that feisty, hell, he doesn't really let anything get to him but you'll be working with him next. He slipped a profile to you when you were done taking off the clothes of a corpse that was carried into the mortuary by the latest mission and you promptly read it. You took note, scanning the profile again. Putting aside the jewellery of the corpse, you asked if Shiu won't come this time.
"Nah, I need to fix a few things with the funding until then, just give me updates about his responses." He stuck his hand out and you threw your lighter at him and he waved his hand, exiting the mortuary. Toji Fushiguro, he looks stone cold but you'll get to see him. The next day.
For now, the body of a dead man awaits you as you meticulously set him apart.
..
Summer in Tokyo was a bummer especially since the clothes you wore was too snug against your body. So much for professionalism, what you'd do to be half naked right now.. Patting down your sweaty skin with a clean cloth, you exhaled in gratitude at the airconditioning in the ramen shop you walked into. Fushiguro should be around here.
He wasn't hard to spot, he was a large, towering man and you sat down next to him.
You ordered a Ochazuke because of the sweltering heat, you made sure it was enough to forget about the weather and not that you have a client to tend to.
"Did Shiu sent you?" Gosh, his voice was deep that you flinched a bit when you gave the yen to pay and his lips quirked up a bit. You smiled, nodding to the man who looked you up and down rather blatantly. He took a sip of his soda before gesturing at you.
"Was he too caught up in something else to send a pipsquek in for me?" He grinned, putting his can down and is pleased that you didn't back down.
"You're one to talk when the soles of your slippers are loose," You put down the folders of the bounty next to his ramen. "My name is [Name], nice to meet you." You nodded happily, looking back at the waiter that gave you a heads up to how long you had to wait.
He made a noise of amusement, bringing his head down to stuff a fishball in his mouth and placed down his chopsticks.
"Hmm, that's interesting. You're so bold, is it because of your luck, you think you can get away with anything?" You chuckled wryly, shaking your head and played with the pen on your lap. You uttered towards him how nobody can just insult you without any confrontation and he nearly snorts.
He plays this little game of trying to mock you more, finding ways to make you tick but you held up good. He's beggining to like this little helper Shiu sent, one that was so undettered and nonchalant but acting so polite to keep an act on. When your Ocazuke arrives, it was his time to leave.
You pointed to the folders you let him read, asking if he got all that and he dismissed you with a wave.
He didn't even answer your question, rude. But you gave a long sigh. For such an attractive man, he's so adamant on trying to piss you off. Maybe it started to work after being called a little helper instead of an assistant.. but you won't admit that. Right now, you had a nice, cold meal to enjoy and dug in.
After a while, you finished and left to the park. It was oddly very quiet, wouldn't there be more people in this time of day? Well, it was a weekend so maybe people preferred their walls of their home for now. You kept the folders close and took out your phone to dial Shiu.
"Hello-?" The service was quite bad, you weren't sure if it was Shiu or you.
"Shiu?" You leaned against a lamp pole, adjusting the phone between your left and right ear. His voice is a strange mash of words that you couldn't make out.
"….man…gone…" A bunch of question marks litter your brain, who now?
That's when a bullet shot your phone and the graze of the bullet against your skin made you clutch your hand and curse. You swiftly turned back and gasped. It was the man you stripped the other day, well stripped was too perverse of a description rather taking off his clothes to examine would be better. Anything could happen in the Jujutsu world so why was a corpse trudging towards you? You'd made sure nobody knows that this man is dead, his family wouldn't know either or unless some other curse user slip up and went on a monologue.
This guy was dead serious on something. Maybe killing you slowly? Cause the way his hand grip tightly against the saw that he switched out was alarming. Gun slipped into his back pocket, he approached quickly.
"You had the time to steal some pants too, amazing." You pull out your gun and aimed for him and that's when he turned aggresive, his saw swinged quite hard and you'd barely avoided a slice through the neck as he roared.
His eyes were rolled to the back of his head as you shot his chest twice and he gurgled.
"Give me back my life!!" His yell was quite distorted, it was obvious enough that he was a curse out for blood but why you? Could it be because you did the autopsy, that wasn't great considering you weren't even the killer.
You pull out a knife from your thigh strap and stabbed his throat, bringing up to his face so the blade came out through his nose. Some blood got onto you but you yanked yourself away from him and he chokes on his own blood.
He shouted out a "No!" and made a clean slash at your waist which you shrieked to. You gave a hard kick to his stomach making him fall before running away from him. You turned many corners, clutching your bleeding waist in such pain. You quickly added bullets in before shooting back. It dettered him a bit but he regenerates quickly that it was crazy. There was some cursed energy in your weapons but how strong was this man's thirst for vengeance?
"Fuck, you have to be shitting me." You were getting lightheaded, the cut was deep and it was torturous.
Suddenly, a figure zoomed behind you and you gasped as you were thrown over their shoulder like a sack of potatos. The hand squeezed a bit of your ass and you sputtered in pain and shock.
It was Fushiguro, he was so damn fast.. so this was his abilities.
"Thought you'd be better at holding off on your own but I shouldn't expect much from a little helper." He teased with such a sultry drawl in his voice that you couldn't help but punch his back. He chuckled, such a sweet thing. He should've let it drag on a bit longer. Just to see you wince in pain, call him a sadist. He puts you down near a wall before settling the fight with the curse that was chasing you.
"[Name], shit." Shiu was there thankfully, he almost tore your blouse apart as he dabbed up the blood and wrapped bandages around your waist. You shifted a bit in your spot and handled the rest of the bandaging yourself and rested against the wall. You faintly snicker, seeing your boss so worried about you made something tickle inside you. He grabbed your face, nearly shouting at you in exasperation.
"You're a dunce, you know that?"
You shrugged like normal.
"How else would I contact you, sir? You were breaking up in call." He sighed, examining he two lines left at both sides of your eyes. He argued that this wasn't your usual route to go back to the centre anyways, a place with more people would be better for you to be at. The only thing you can utter is that yhings just happen and there was nothing else to do.
Shiu and you watched as Toji strutted back to the both of you. He was really handsome for a poor man, it was humourous. He had the ego with it too.
Toji's hand wind back to toss you something and it was a ring with initials dented on it.
"Looks farmiliar?" He smirked at you as you looked at the entirety of the ring.
"Yeah.. unfortunately." The initials matched the new mission you passed to Toji an hour ago. It couldn't be just a coincidence, it was another familial issued bounty just like the first.
"You'll be seeing more of me then, pipsquek." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the irritation you couldn't hide. He squished your head in his hand and moved past Shiu and you. While Shiu went to catch up with Toji who was too quick to go, you let out one last deep sigh for the day.
"Cowabummer."
----
a/n: clap with your cheeks if you guys want a part 2 jk the only thing i can think of is toji begging shiu kong for a dollar so lets see
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#toji x reader#toji x you#toji scenarios#toji hcs
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I guess it's that time of year, again, when I ask folks to send me prompts(text is link to my ask box) for the 800-2k word ficlets I send out with holiday cards. (For those new to this, ficlets will get publicly posted to AO3 in Feb/March of 2025. And I usually post the rough drafts to Patreon, if you really can't wait.)
Things to keep in mind about prompting:
I do not anticipate to write every prompt I get, and multiple people sending in the same or a very similar prompt will not make it more likely to get written. (This does not mean you shouldn't send in a prompt.)
I don't write in any of my existing AUs, because I don't want folks to have to be familiar with a longer fic or series to enjoy a little ficlet with their card.
I am not currently writing Harry Potter for personal reasons. Any prompts sent for this fandom will be deleted out of hand. (This does include crossovers.)
I will 100% write a ficlet for my own OCs. I am not comfortable writing a ficlet with another person's OCs unless their creator requests it themself, and are open to me pestering them for more information.
I will write both shippy and platonic ficlets. However, these do aim to be family-friendly, since I don't know who's opening anyone's mail, so we aim for a generalised Teen rating.
If you've never seen me write a ship, but you know I'm in the fandom, go ahead and prompt it. (If it's a ship that I have no intention to write, I'll just quietly delete it, not here to insult anyone's joys.)
Yes, anon is on. Please don't give me a reason to change that.
You can also send your prompts to either of my multi-fandom blogs (batsutousai and the back-up bats-batsutousai) or my twitter (LadyMarvolo).
You can also send them through my cohost (batsutousai) or bluesky (batsutousai), but I keep forgetting to check both of those places and don't know what sorts of notifications are turned on, whoops.
BATS' SHIP LIST (text is the link. This is not all-inclusive, just the ones I am 100% comfortable with and down with writing.
Yes, I know I said, last year, that I was going to try to put together a platonic 'ships' list. That clearly has not happened. I shall make an attempt again this year, but my promises are sand.)
PROMPTS (just gonna do links to some of the prompt lists I've reblogged previously, just please let me know which list you're pulling from?)
Bats' previously created holiday ficlets prompts list
Line of dialogue
Four word prompts
Numbered dialogue prompts
X Me prompts
I think there's one in my drafts that cuddling related? I'll see if I can't find that and post it some time this week.
And, no, you do not have to pick prompts off the lists. If you've got one you've been dying to send me, go for it. Just, please keep in mind that I'm only looking for short ficlet prompts at this time.
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"I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?"- Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Triple Frontier
Good. Thanks Frankie.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
About fandom in general, interactions or lack thereof, how something you can feel so happy and passionate about can make you sad at the same time.
The idea of no longer sharing my fics has also been something that's crossed my mind on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day I WANT to share them. I am proud of them and I figure if they make me this happy, I hope they can make someone else happy too.
I continue to trek on, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and press on, creating fics I think others will enjoy as well, and praising the gorgeous man who plays gorgeous characters whose stories I love to change or extend.
Recently, I've felt guilt. Guilt that I haven't been creating and posting enough things for you to indulge in. And then I remember that in the last 4 weeks, I wrote and posted 3 fics.
3 fics where a majority of the reblogs are my own, and most of the notes are likes.
I'm feeling this way because of the lack of interaction. I'm not blaming or pointing fingers or trying to extend any guilt to any of you (and thank you endlessly to those who do reblog and comment and send messages and have conversations about them 💗) But I can safely say that this is a widespread issue across all fandoms alike.
It's disheartening. People leave and give up and have their creativity crushed to the point they no longer participate or share their wonderful art.
I came across a post that I reblogged yesterday that added another level onto all of this.
Artists and writers having to "market" and promote their work in hopes it'll help drum up excitement for what they have coming up.
As if taking the time and energy to create that fic of piece of art isn't enough, now we have to work like a full marketing team in hopes we will get a few more reblogs or comments.
I have seldom participated in tag games where you share snippets of WIPs etc because more often than not, the response to them are *crickets*. It's embarrassing and gives off that "no one is interested so why bother sharing it" vibe.
We shouldn't have to work that hard to get feedback on the things we share.
I know, and respect, that some people experience comment anxiety, but I promise you that if you're able to, whether it be a string of emojis or keysmashes or even a gif, you will be making a difference.
This happened to me yesterday.
Right when I felt like it's all fruitless, someone swooped in with a comment that gave me hope and reminded me why I do it. And it was on my least popular (and personal favourite) series to boot.
Because of this simple act of communication, my hope and motivation has been restored.
Now I know I'm going to get people saying "you should write for yourself" (I do) and I shouldn't rely on others to keep me motivated (I don't, I have Charlie Hunnam for that) but it's such a key component to all of this and I think most creators can agree to that.
So please, for the love of fandom and the things you love (the actors, the characters, the shows or films) PLEASE INTERACT WITH THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS WHO CREATE INCREDIBLE ART AND FICS FOR THEM.
You may not realize what an effect you have, but I promise you, you do, and it may even help save your favourite artist from abandoning it all.
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What in the fanfic hell is this?? 😂😂
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