#back in place like that little fucker was just FLOPPING around back there and it is a metal cylinder the size of a lugnut socket
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Masked in Amity
CW: Sam doesn't come off great in this, but not Sam bashing. She just has a lot of growing up to do still and knee jerk reacts badly. (I also don't want to listen to any Sam bashing please and ty.)
Sam’s room still looked the same as always. Danny supposed that’s what happened when someone moved out for college but still came home again— especially to a home like Sam’s. There were only a few posters, a few photos, and a knickknack or two that had changed between high school and now. Danny sat on the edge of the bed like always.
“So how’s school doing?” Danny asked into the awkward silence. Silences never used to be awkward between them, or was that just looking back with rose colored glasses?
“Ugh,” Sam gripped and flopped back onto her bed next to Danny. “Why would you even ask me that? You know I hate it.”
“Because it’s what you’re doing right now? It’s a huge part of your life, you can’t just… avoid it.”
“Watch me,” Sam said, bitterly. Her snarled lips looked weird without the dark purple lipstick. “I’m going to get my stupid law degree my parents are paying for and work at some stupid corporate firm Dad has connections at and when my trust fund has made enough in interest I’m going to quite and go open a non-profit and sue all those fuckers I was forced to work for over how they’ve fucked up the environment.”
“Okay,” Danny said. He didn’t want to argue about this. He just hoped this plan worked better than the last three Sam had had before her privilege knocked her down a peg.
“Can I ask about, I don’t know, your time in Chicago at least?”
“Chicago is amazing,” Sam said, wistfully. “Being in Chicago, I mean, I’m sure you know how it is, it really makes it clear how backwater Amity Park is. The things people worry about here are so small compared to what’s out there!”
Danny just hummed in response. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that. It didn’t feel completely wrong, but it wasn’t right either. Worries weren’t a competition like that.
“And the bands!” Sam continued, thankfully changing the topic. “I have got to see so many amazing bands. The local scene alone is amazing and no one knows about them so you can be right up close and a lot of times even talk to the band after. You should come for a show sometime.”
“I can try to,” Danny said. Sam’s music wasn’t usually his thing, but something like that might be fun. It would be different at least. Danny gave her a little smile. “Maybe Tucker could make it out too.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he won’t. When was the last time you talked to him not on the computer or the phone? He’s only here at Christmas when you aren’t.”
“You know how I feel about Christmas, Sam,” Danny said, holding back a sigh. Sure Tucker had been busy lately and that had made him more distant, but he was still one of their trio. “And if we plan something then Tucker can schedule for it. Don’t count him out just because he’s busy.”
“Alright, fine, we can plan something for a bigger show with Tucker,” Sam agreed, “but you still need to come out to something local. They’re really better anyways. We’ll go out to eat first and hit up a bar or three after. I know some really great places— places like you’ve never seen.”
Sam reached up and wrapped her hands around Danny’s neck, pulling him down a little. “It can be a date.”
Something in Danny balked at that. It was an innocent enough comment. Sam and him had dated and then not and then dated again or just had fun together. They’d known each other so long that it was easy to just ebb and flow out of the different levels of a relationship like that.
This time, though, Danny found himself resisting the tide. “Or we can just hang out.”
The almost dreamy smile Sam had crumpled into a frown. “What? I mean, sure, it can, but why? Are you seeing someone?”
“Yes? No? I mean, I’ve been… sleeping with someone, but we’re not dating or anything.”
“That’s okay,” Sam said easily. “I’m not going to make you be exclusive. I don’t want to be either right now; we’re not around each other enough for that and You know that I’ve been sleeping with my roommate sometimes and I’ve met a cute person in study group now too with amazing fingers.”
“No, I know, just…” Danny gave a frustrated noise. Nightwing and him weren’t even close to being exclusive. Someone like Nightwing could have anyone they wanted and with how much he liked sex, Danny was pretty sure Nightwing did have whoever he wanted. Danny was just… convenient for the hero side and Danny didn’t begrudge the other that. It was convenient for Danny too. It was just…
Danny didn’t want to keep living the same cycle with Sam where he was her world for a few weeks or months and then just back to an occasional phone call. He didn’t want to keep being pulled back to Amity Park. Maybe meeting her in Chicago would be different enough, but Sam was still so tied to Amity and always would be by her parent’s money.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Danny said slowly, feeling the words out as he said them. “Maybe it’s time just to leave us dating in the past?”
Sam dropped her hands and sat up. “Excuse me?”
Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just, we’ve tried being together in a lot of different ways and we always end up in the same place.”
“So you want to leave me in the past?”
“No!” Danny said quickly, trying to get ahead of this before Sam spiraled too badly from making assumptions. “I’d love to come to Chicago and see a band with you! Just… not as a date.”
“Because you want to leave that in the past,” Sam snapped and got up off the bed.
Danny scrambled off also.
“That’s not a bad thing. I enjoyed it and I know you did too. Just more, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best phrase? I mean maybe we shouldn’t go down that road again when we know where it’s going to end.”
Sam crossed her arms. That was never a good sign. “Right, because I’m always going to be a dead end, is that it? Not like you who’s off playing hero with the big names?”
“What? What does me being a Titan have to do with this?”
“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you’re not. You left to go be a famous hero and hardly looked back at Amity Park or me or Tucker or your parents. What if the town needed you?”
Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Why would they need me? I destroyed the portal, came to an agreement with Vlad, made sure my parents couldn’t build another working one— it fixed everything!”
“And then left.”
“So I could help other people!”
“Sure it wasn’t so that you could be famous?”
Danny closed his mouth with a clack.
Sam winced at her own words. “Danny…”
“No.” Danny backed up a few steps from her. “No. You don’t get to— you of all people don’t get to come at me like that! I never wanted to be a hero, Sam! You’re the one who said I needed to protect Amity and you were right, sure, but it’s never what I wanted! You wanted it!”
“Danny, no—” Sam reached out for him and Danny stepped back again, hitting the wall.
“Yes you did, Sam! You did or I never would have had to die a second time after your wish! I lost everything again! I don’t have a future like you and Tucker, I just have being a hero. I just have being dead.”
“Come on Danny,” Sam tried. She moved close again, slowly, like Danny was some sort of feral animal.
Maybe he really was just a caged beast.
“I’m just— I better go. I’m just going to go,” Danny said. In a flash of light he was back to being Phantom. He let himself tip back and phase through the wall.
As he left Amity Park behind, he couldn’t help but think it really said something that he was far more comfortable being Phantom these day than Danny.
--
AN: Here's yous all voted on treat for the day! This comes before Danny showing up at Dick's door, quite upset.
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Sweetness #3
Minors DNI
Summary: The continuation of Sweetness #2; Seunghan and Eunseok heard Anton with you and want their turn.
Warnings: Male reader, Slight dubcon, Big cocks Riize, Threesome, Hypnosis, Rough Sex, Pet names, Degradation, Blowjob, Overstimulation, Multiple orgasms, Creampie
Wordcount: 3.3k
Eunseok and Seunghan went into Anton’s room to see you lying in bed, covered by the bed sheet.
Eunseok covered his nose, “Did they go at it that hard?”
Seunghan shrugged, “You heard it as clearly as I did. They were fucking like dogs in here, and it smells like it.” The boys went over to you to check you out. Your hair was ruined, your cheeks were puffed, darkening bruises on your next, and the smell of cum drifted off you.
Anton came into the room with the towels, “Here’s the towels…”
Seunghan sucked on his teeth when he lifted the cover to see the rest of you naked under the sheet. His head craned, “Are you serious Anton?! There’s no way he won’t notice his body messed up like this, mysterious bite marks–and you came inside. You sick fuck.”
Anton could only bite his cheek as his elders scolded him.
Together, they used warm wet towels to wipe down your body. You tried your best to remain still like you were asleep, but it tickled in some places. You were going to crack eventually so you had to play it off. You groaned, gently opening your eyes, “huh? What the–“ You sat up sharply but held your side where Anton had bruised you. “What happened?!”
Eunseok and Seunghan looked at you, at each other, and then back to you.
“Anton fucked you and damn near broke your back, blame him.” Seunghan put his hands up, “Eunseok and I were forced into helping him.”
You glared at Anton, “You what?!”
Eunseok whispered, “Sweetness, you don’t care about Anton anymore. Forget about that and just focus on how to repay us for helping you.”
Your head flopped down as your eyes went out of focus.
“Perfect.”
Seunghan turned to Anton, “We’ll keep this a secret if you keep our deal. If not, then y/n will remember everything. Maybe even hate you.”
Anton looked at you, “I hope you guys know what you’re doing…”
“The same as you! Now get the hell out and keep a watch for the others.”
Eunseok and Seunghan helped you up, wrapping a towel around your waist. You were guided to the bathroom and seated on the toilet lid. “Okay, a shower may be out of the question. We can’t explain him walking out of the shower like this. Anton seriously did a number on him.” The boys spent some time thinking.
You started getting impatient so you pressed that you were waking up. You groaned as your head drifted to one side.
“We’re running out of time, the others will be home soon. If we want to do something, now’s the time,” Eunseok warned.
Seunghan’s face lit up with an idea, “I’ve got an idea that can get us some alone time with him. While also getting back at those two fuckers for tricking us.” The boys discussed their diabolical plan in front of you. It was devious and almost crazy hearing them talk about what to do about you like you weren’t a person. It was kind of hot…
The boys brought you clothes dressed you, then had you sleep in their room. The front door opened, and you heard their plan launch into action. You couldn’t help but peek out the door to see down the hall as it unfolded. Seunghan had the group sitting at the table, most of them shivering from the cold while Anton shook out of anxiety. “So, I’ll give you the chance to come clean first. To prove you show at least a little remorse,” Seunghan tapped his foot on the floor expectantly.
The others exchanged looks with each other until one by one they stopped on Anton who was turning pale. Sungchan spoke first while giving Anton a death glare, “What are they talking about?”
Anton looked at everyone, fear across his face. Sungchan was a death threat, and Seunghan had a knowing smirk on his face. He was going to throw him under the bus! “I-I fucked y/n!” The others complained in protest. “But, so did Sungchan!”
Sungchan leaped to his feet, “You rat!”
“Those two did it two!” Anton pointed at Seunghan and Eunseok.
Eunseok shook his head, “Not even. We heard Anton going at it right when we got home from our errand and caught him in the act.”
“That’s not-“
“Shut it!” Seunghan commanded, “Clearly no one can be trusted around him. He’ll be sleeping in our room. Alone. For the rest of his time here. And he can’t be alone with anyone, there’s always got to be a second person present.”
The group nodded in agreement.
“But what about these two?” Sohee pointed at Anton and Sungchan.
“Since you two are the least trustworthy here, you’ll spend some time with each other. Without y/n. We’ll order him to ignore you completely.”
Shotaro stood, “Won’t that affect him much later? We don’t want to cause any permanent damage.”
“Sho, they’ve already crossed a line! I think it’s more than an appropriate punishment, and if y/n knew they’d want the same. Maybe even worse.”
Wonbin raised his hand. “Should we just tell him?”
Anton and Sungchan spoke, “No, you can’t!”
“Why not?” Sohee raised an eyebrow, "This is serious. We should tell him."
Anton tried to explain, “If he knows that, he’ll never want to see us again. We’re a group, if he wants to see you he’ll still see us. Or even being around you may remind him of us. What if he gets PTSD or something?”
“What the hell did you do to give him PTSD!?”
“N-Nothing, it’s just an example!”
Eunseok snapped, “Stop shouting! You’ll wake him up! We'll decide if we'll tell him by dinner.”
Shotaro’s eyes popped open, “Where is he?”
“In me and Seunghan’s room, where I think he should stay to recover. Anton went crazy, bruises and bite marks…” The others scowled at Anton while the youngest hung his head in shame.
Sungchan’s face was red with anger. “Bite marks and bruises!?”
Anton put his hands up defensively, “You’re not any better than me, you made him suck you off in the middle of the night! He was barely awake to register it.” Sungchan’s mouth hung open at Anton’s defiance. Every word just made the situation worse and everyone needed some space. The group decided something needed to be done to punish the members who broke the rule. As part of their punishment, Anton and Sungchan were forced to cook and clean as long as you stayed with them. And do whatever you asked them to do–if you’d acknowledge them.
While the guilty made dinner, Seunghan showed the others the scene of the crime–Your body, fully clothed, still showed signs of surviving Anton, purple tint to some areas of skin and teeth marks.
Sohee frowned, "Should we give him ice or something?"
"Yeah, that's a good idea." Wonbin and Sohee left together to get you some ice, leaving Eunseok and Seunghan to watch over you. Your eyes were closed but you could hear shuffling in the room as the boys whispered to each other.
"Wake him up, quickly!"
You felt the warmth of someone's presence near you as you were gently shaken. "Y/n, wake up for a second," Eunseok spoke to you softly, like always.
You slowly opened your eyes, wincing in pain. "Jesus, my fucking back. What is it, Eunseok?"
Eunseok's eyebrows knit together as Seunghan kept watch at the door. "I... Can I ask for something?"
"Of course, name it."
"Say I wanted to go out with you. Or like get with you–theoretically... Would I have a shot?"
You giggle at his kind words. "Sure, Eunseok. I don't think I'd mind going out with you."
"Even if we went far with it, like sex?"
You nodded, "If we're compatible, then maybe."
"Can it be a yes or a no?"
"Gosh, Eunseok, I haven't put much thought into it. Yes, I can see us having sex, but is this the best time for this?"
"No, you're right–I'll bring it up later."
"Okay," You winked at him.
"Eunseok, you done?" Seunghan looked over his shoulder, "I think the others are coming back."
"I'm sorry." Eunseok held your hand tightly and whispered, "Sweetness when I come to your room tonight. We're going to have sex, okay?"
You let your eyes lose focus as you slowly nodded.
He smiled at you as your eyes came back into focus. Your head cocked to the side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason," Eunseok said as he stepped away from you.
Wonbin and Sohee came into the room with water and ice packs. The four boys comforted you as Sungchan and Anton made dinner. The dinner table was almost completely silent. You were seated between Eunseok and Seunghan with Anton and Sungchan kept at the far end of the table.
"This food is great you two!" You complimented, trying to lift the mood.
"Thanks, y/n," Anton's smile faded as the others glared at him.
There was only silence and nervous glances between everyone as they tried to find the words to tell you. You looked at Sungchan, hoping he'd know what to do. He nodded and stood up. "I have a confession," He said hoarsely.
Seunghan stood up too, much to your surprise. "I've got something to say and want to speak first." Sungchan was glad to take the spotlight off himself as he sat down. The group watched Seungahn closely as he spoke, "Y/n, you're too smart for us! We've been trying to keep it a secret, but the guys and I have prepared a surprise for you!" Seunghan smiled as winked at the others for support. "Let's not tell them the surprise yet, we're not ready to show it yet," He emphasized his words to get his point across.
Sungchan joined him, "Yes, I was about to say more than I should've!"
Anton nodded rapidly as the others slowly joined in agreement. Wonbin locked eyes with you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You smiled at him with a wink. "What can I say? You guys suck at hiding secrets!"
"As a part of the surprise, we need you to sleep in Seunghan's room for tonight. We might need to move stuff and we don't want to wake you up if you're in the living room," Eunseok explained.
You nodded in understanding, "That's fine. I can't wait to see what it is!"
After Seunghan's announcement, the mood picked up a little more. You ignored the slight pain in your side from Anton blowing your back out as you continued eating dinner. You decided to call it a night after eating, feeling "weirdly exhausted", and the boys encouraged you to sleep as they cleaned the kitchen. You could hardly hear them whisper from inside Seunghan's room, but you knew you'd get another visit in the night soon enough. You weren't planning on sleeping, only pretending until someone arrived. You passed out with a full belly in less than ten minutes. You awoke in complete darkness, the sound of the door opening and closing as someone entered the room. Even though you were waiting for it, your heart raced as you could barely make out two forms through your squinted eyes.
"Make sure the door's locked," Seunghan whispered.
"It is," Eunseok replied. One of the shadows moved closer to you until you could make out Eunseok's features on its face. You closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep as your body started sweating in expectation. Eunseok's voice was low and gentle, "Sweetness, I'm here. Wake up."
You slowly open your eyes. "Eunseok? Is that you?"
"Y-Yeah, it's me." He took your hand in his. "You remember what we talked about earlier today?" His voice shook nervously.
"About wanting to go out with me?"
"And the other thing."
"Remind me, I can't remember."
"You said, we could fuck," Eunseok said plainly.
You giggle, "Eunseok, are you asking to have sex with me right now?"
He muttered something about how he had the most consent out of the members but discarded the thought when you tried to listen closer. "Yeah, I'm here to have sex with you," He said confidently.
You turned your attention to the second shadow. "Is there someone else in here?"
Eunseok nodded. "It's Seunghan."
"And he's here to watch?"
"Or participate if you'll allow? Which, I’ve got a feeling, you'll say yes. Sweet–"
Eunseok cut him off in a whisper, "Seunghan!"
"Sweet boy," Seunghan finished. You held in a smirk as Seunghan still found time to tease Eunseok. "What do you say? Want a package deal?"
"A threesome is ambitious," You tried to sound unsure. "What if they hear?"
"Don't worry about the others. They can't interfere, even if they want, it's just us," Seunghan assured you.
You threw aside the bedsheet, showing off your legs as you'd shaken out of your shorts. "Then, I suppose we could have a bit of fun."
Eunseok leaned in and kissed you as Seunghan moved over to you, letting his hands run up your warm legs. Seunghan's approach was fast and smooth, tenderly kissing your inner thighs as he found your most sensitive parts and biting at them. Eunseok was more intimate, slow, and gentle like he was almost scared to touch you. He cupped your face as he ate your lips. Seunghan's biting made you moan into Eunseok's mouth, which made both attack you more passionately.
Both raked their hands over your body as you squirmed under them.
They both pulled away and undressed themselves.
Eunseok whispered in your ear, "Who do you want first?"
"I pick?"
He nodded. "We both want you, but you're the one who's got a choice."
"You should go first, you did ask," You kissed Eunseok's nose as he positioned himself between your legs, Seunghan moving to the side of your head.
Eunseok slipped his fingers inside you easily. "Stretched out... I can just stick it in now." You nodded, almost begging as you held your breath. Eunseok slapped his cock against your ass a few times as he pushed you to arch your back. He put in his tip and slowly sank into you. Even after Anton, Eunseok stretched your hole–his cock being wider than the youngest Riize member. Eunseok groaned as you tightened around him.
Seunghan rubbed your cheek with his cock, its hot tip leaving a sticky wet kiss. You stroked it a few times, but Eunseok's increasing pace made it difficult to aim it into your mouth.
"Silly, baby, you need help?" Seunghan cooed as he rotated you, forcing Eunseok to move as well while inside you. Your head hung off the bed as Seunghan held your neck for support. "Just relax," He said as he slid his dick into your mouth. It glided into a comfortable position in your throat, you moving your throat to squeeze it tightly.
The two of them fucked you at a rhythm as one pushed in and the other pulled out. Starting slow and then moving faster, tears streamed down your face. It was Eunseok that broke first.
"I'm going to cum, inside, cumming–" Eunseok's cock was suddenly pulled out of you as Seunghan pulled you closer to him. You throated more cock into your mouth as Eunseok cum shot up and rained down on you. "Seung, what the fuck!?"
Seunghan pulled out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath. "I can't let you make a mess before I've had a turn."
Eunseok sucked on his teeth as Seunghan forced him out of the way. The boys switched spots as you lay there in anticipation for round two. Eunseok bitterly stroked his sensitive cock over your face as Seunghan hooked your leg onto his shoulder.
"Brace yourself, a real man's taking care of you now," Seunghan said as he pushed himself in completely. You opened your mouth, trying to restrain the moan that threatened to escape. You pulled Eunseok into your mouth, filling you so the sound couldn't slip out. Eunseok's body twitched and shook as you focused on licking and sucking him, his moans high-pitched and rapid. Seunghan grunted as his hips snapped, slamming into you. It was completely different from the kindness Eunseok had shown you, Seunghan's cock dug into you with a vein at the bottom that flexed every time he thrust it, making it just a little bigger.
"Still this tight? Even after all the cock you've been through?" Seunghan teased.
You let Eunseok out of your mouth, working him over with your hand. "Anton was just a little clumsy, that's all."
The boys froze in the realization of what you'd said.
"Anton?" Seunghan looked at your face, "You know about that?"
"Yes," You groaned as you tried to move your ass, "Sungchan too."
"How–"
"Not hypnotized. Talk later, fuck now!"
Seunghan laughed wryly. "You're just a slut then? I can work with that. Lying sluts deserve a beating." Seunghan put your other leg over his shoulder and leaned forward, pushing his weight down on you as your knees touched your chest. Seunghan was in an almost plank, like a push-up form, as he pulled to leave just this tip inside you, then slammed into you. You screamed at the intensity Seunghan was fucking you, but you were getting too loud. "Eunseok, gag him or something!" Seunghan commanded.
You looked over at Eunseok whose cock was red and dripping, but still hard. "That, gimme. Please Eunseok, I need your cock."
Eunseok slowly accepted his fate, bracing for the overstimulation as you took him back into your mouth. His hand clasped over his mouth as you moved yourself around his length. Eunseok's cock twitched and spilled a full load of cum into your mouth, as he drooled into his hand. His eyes twitched as you continued sucking, forcing him to hold the side of the bed so he didn't collapse.
Even though your mouth was full, Seunghan was determined to make you lose your mind. He slammed into you without restraint, the clap of your skin loud in your ears as he groaned and grunted. "Slut, slut, slut! Are you getting off at tricking us? You know all of us want to fuck you, and you think you can get away with baiting me. I'll make sure we get even too!" His thrusts lost their speed but somehow got harder as he got close to his orgasm. Seunghan tossed one of your legs off his shoulder as he pushed you toward Eunseok, forcing you to deepthroat him, while Eunseok cried at being used. He held Eunseok in place with his free arm. While you choked on Eunseok, Seunghan came inside you. He slammed you for each pump of cum that poured into you.
After he finished, he put your other leg down and Eunseok pulled out your mouth.
You were a mess all over again. Spit, tears, and cum stained your skin, mostly your face. You'd ended up cumming three times, once from Eunseok and twice from Seunghan. Your cock throbbed as it lay on your stomach softening.
Eunseok, finally able to relax, fell onto the bed twitching. "That was... amazing."
Seunghan pulled out of you, letting his cum drip out. "I agree, we should do that again," He winked as he smacked your thigh, making you wince. "Now, explain yourself."
You take a moment to breathe and then explain what happened. Wonbin snapped you out of the hypnosis, Sungchan throat fucked you, and then Anton jumped in before they did. Seunghan called you a slut at least four more times while you explained.
Eunseok, finally calm enough to form real words, asked, "So the only ones who don't know are Shotaro and Sohee? And Wonbin didn't hit either?"
You nodded. You could feel your throat swelling from its recent abuse. It would be a miracle if you could speak correctly by tomorrow morning.
"We'll keep up the act if you want. But Taro and Sohee are going to be difficult. You'll probably have to seduce them since they're so polite." Seunghan got dressed and threw Eunseok some clothes. "Now, let's get you cleaned up. We can help you get the others."
#oracle of dreams#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#riize#riize seunghan#riize eunseok#riize smut#riize x reader#riize x imagine#riize x y/n#x male smut#x male reader#kpop male reader#x male y/n#riize x male reader#x reader#kpop male idol#male reader
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Home, Sweet Home – Dick Grayson x Reader
A/N: wjsksksksjd hi. almost 6k of dick grayson flirty fluff. restraint??? i don't know her. i've never heard of her. but i'm back on my dick grayson / jason todd bullshit so! is this ooc?? probably. do i care?? no. did i just want to write some fun flirty charming boyfriend dick grayson fluff because i'm in love with him?? yes. so here you go. shout out to @bvcksmunson for reading this for me before i posted i love you shan!!!!! sorry for any mistakes or typos or wHatever and sorry if you read this in advance !!!! <3 mwah big kiss.
W/C: 5.8k
Warnings: language, sex references because it's me what did we expect, slight references to violence (hopefully i got everything, if not let me know!!)
likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated !!! <3
───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Dick is quick to react to your harsh greeting, throwing himself against your refrigerator dramatically, one hand gripping at the metal corner while the other clutches at his heart through the thick material of his suit. You watch him with raised eyebrows as he sinks down to your kitchen floor with a groan, biting back a smile because you'd hate for him to see that his little display more than amuses you; you're not sure you could live with yourself if you let him have that ego boost.
Dick Grayson is a major pain in your ass, but you'd be lying if you said you're not happy to see your boyfriend.
The hand on his chest flops to the floor, his legs spread out in a V shape, and he leans his head back against your refrigerator, eyes closed. It's quiet between the two of you as you watch him play dead, occasionally cracking open his right eye to make sure you're still watching before screwing it shut again.
You've let him have his moment; indulged in the dramatics enough to satisfy him you think, so you fold your arms over your chest and cock your head, asking, "Are you finished?"
Dick gasps for air suddenly, hyperventilating and choking for at least a minute before hurling his body with a loud thump. He lays on his back, arms and legs splayed out across your kitchen floor. One final, strained breath, and he falls silent again.
Oh, the poor fuckers in the apartment below.
You unfold your arms and give him a slow round of applause as you make your way towards him, looking down at him from above. "Wow. That was really something. I mean, what a show. Truly."
Blue eyes open to meet your own. He's already discarded the domino mask, left it sitting on your countertop along with an array of loose items from his suit. You can tell he's trying so desperately to keep a straight face as you stare down at him. "It's not a show. You've wounded me." He tells you.
You pout, mockingly. "Aw. You poor thing. Give me a minute and I'll cry about it."
"Feels like I've been shot through the heart."
With a roll of your eyes you step around him, opening the cupboard above the sink and grabbing a glass. "Don't tempt me. I might think about actually shooting you next time."
He springs to his feet as you flip the tap on, your back to him while you fill your glass. "Wow. A cold welcome and a threat. Is that any way to greet your favourite boyfriend?" You can practically hear the boyish grin in his tone.
You spin around, leaning against your counter, finally getting a good look at him. He's standing just over a metre away from you, hands on his hips with a smile on his lips that reaches from ear to ear. His black hair is ruffled, falling in his face; probably a consequence of the wind working against him on the way over to your place. There's a few scratches on his cheeks, and one on his chin, but that does nothing to take away from the fact that he's so damn handsome. You know it, and he does too. It's something you curse him for whenever he's around; it makes you falter, you lose your edge a little.
"Who says you're my favourite boyfriend?" You raise the glass to your lips and take a small sip. You're not particularly thirsty, it's more of a tactical move to distract yourself from caving into him immediately; a way to mask the smile that's been teetering on the edge since you saw him stood in your kitchen, raiding through the fridge before you caught him and he began his little performance.
Dick is unfazed by your slightly cutting words, however unserious they are. He knows he's your only boyfriend, there's no one in Blüdhaven who could even begin to compete with him. That grin of his refuses to shift as he asks, "Did I crack the top ten?"
"Barely. I'd place you at number nine."
He shrugs, "Good enough for me. Just don't tell me about these other boyfriends. I don't think my poor heart could take it."
You'll never resist an opportunity to wind him up, so you glance up at the ceiling and sigh, heavy and dreamy, "Well, the guy at number one—..."
Before you can conjure up a fake name and story for your very fake other boyfriend, he's already taken two long strides towards you, trapping you between his body and the counter. He raises his gloved hand up to your face, running it across your cheek down to your jaw, before pressing his index finger against your lips. "Didn't I just tell you not to tell me about your other boyfriends?"
Had anyone else tried their luck in silencing you, attempted to tell you what to do, you're certain you'd have them laid out in ten seconds, flat. Maybe five, if you're feeling particularly vicious. Dick Grayson is the exception. You've known him for years, been dating him for almost three, yet you still enjoy the back and forth of it all; that 'thrill of the chase' feeling is still there, and it still excites both of you just as much as it did all those years ago.
So you play along, a smirk on your lips, "I've never really liked being told what to do."
Dick chuckles quietly, "Don't I know that."
"Yeah. You do." More than anyone.
Your history with him is a long one.
It started back when you were operating in and around Blüdhaven under the alias 'Thorn'. Not very original, you know, and Nightwing made sure to remind you of that every time your paths crossed. You were a little spiteful, feeling as though Nightwing's transfer to Gotham's so called 'ugly sister city' made all the hard work you'd put into protecting the city look like nothing in comparison. You got on his radar pretty quickly, tracking his leads and making sure you got to them first, just to see the look on his face when he turned up and realised he was too late, that you'd already handled the situation. Sure, you didn't have half of the technology that he had from the big, bad Batman himself, but you still found a way to get the job done.
It continued like this for a while; the two of you working against each other, trying to be smarter and faster – better – than the other. Until you came across a threat bigger than the both of you, and a reluctant partnership was established. It was supposed to be a one night only kind of thing, but it quickly spiralled into an every night ordeal, with a sexual tension between the two of you that could've given Hollywood a run for it's money. He'd try and give orders – Batman style – and most of the time you'd blatantly defy him, because you've never really been the type to follow orders, and you knew he got a kick out of it, too.
You really, truly tried to keep your distance, to not allow yourself to be taken in by his dumb flirty comments, his cheesy grin whenever he made you smile, or that light blush that crept across his cheeks whenever you decided to have your own fun with him and flirt back. You tried really hard not to stare at his ass when you thought he wasn't looking, too. But were you ever going to tell him no when he pushed you up against the wall in a dark, wet back alley after a particularly stressful mission, hopped up on adrenaline and just aching for a release?
No, you weren't; you definitely didn't deny him.
It was nice. You were fine with quick, desperate sex in the most private place you could find after a mission followed by a night of sitting on rooftops, talking about anything and everything. One night, he unmasked himself, told you who he really was, and you returned the favour with little to no hesitation because you liked him – despite the embarrassment you felt about having a silly little crush – and you trusted him, most importantly.
It was an unspoken thing for the most part; you were both more than okay with avoiding the 'boyfriend' label because you liked being independent, and Dick – well he seemed to have commitment issues that were, truthfully, unmatched. Which is why it came as a surprise to you when he slipped through your apartment window one night (the one you leave unlocked purposefully for him), crawled into bed next to you and told you very sincerely that he wanted to try 'the boyfriend thing' – he wanted it to be just you and him. You're not sure what brought on his little outburst of romance, but you never doubted him when he told you he loved you that night.
You hung up your suit a year later, choosing to move on from your days of protecting the city, opting instead for a life of normality. Well, as much normality as you could get whilst dating Blüdhaven's very own Bird Boy. It felt right, but a small part of you feared Dick would get bored of you and your new oh-so-normal life – that he wouldn't want to stick around and just exist with you. Your fears were unwarranted, though, because nothing changed for either of you.
Dick is still here, with you; he's still aching for your love and your touch and your everything. You share an apartment. The cupboards are stocked with continental condiments, shelves full of weird knick knacks and multicoloured ornaments he's found abandoned over the years on his nightly patrols. The walls are lined with little plaques that read 'Live, Laugh, Love' and 'Home Sweet Home'; things he claimed to find funny and you detested for the longest time until it hit you one day that he really just loves having a place – a person – to call his. Somewhere he can just be with someone who loves him unconditionally.
As you look up into his eyes, his finger still on your lips, you can't help but think how truly head over heels you are for him, and you know he feels the same. Blüdhaven is, to be frank, a wasteland. Full of grime and grit, with a tainted history that it just can't seem to shake off – one that continues to this day. Dick Grayson is the one thing that keeps you grounded to this city; makes you feel like all of the hours, blood, sweat and tears you poured into the city to protect the people was all worth it, because you found each other. He's the bright light shining above the darkness, the only thing that keeps you here and still has you calling it your home.
But despite your feelings towards him, you still take every opportunity you can to bite at him – literally.
You bat your eyelashes at him and part your lips, taking the tip of his gloved finger into your mouth. He visibly tenses when your tongue swirls against the leather; lets out a breath – almost a moan, when you suck ever so slightly. You're insistent on maintaining eye contact, but he's struggling to look you in the eyes as his face flushes bright red.
You bite down.
Not too harsh, but also not so gentle. It's enough to stun him, makes him jump away from you rather comically. You break out into a laugh while he shakes his hand, looking at you like you've just made him suffer through the ultimate betrayal.
"Ow." He pouts.
Through your giggles, you say, "Aw, did that hurt you, Bird Boy?"
"A little." He mumbles, trying his utmost to keep that sad, little pout on his lips as he watches you laugh at his misery.
"You're a liar, Dick Grayson."
Dick scoffs, "I'm not lying." He points an accusatory finger at you, the same one you sank your teeth into moments ago, "You bite hard."
"You never complained about that before." You say with a shrug, chewing down on your bottom lip.
He raises his hands in surrender, because he knows you're right. "And I'm not about to."
"Good." You let out a content sigh and push yourself off the counter, stepping towards where he stands in the middle of the kitchen. "So what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in Gotham?"
Dick shrugs, "Just got back. I thought I'd fly by our apartment. No pun intended." But that dumb smirk on his lips tells you that he meant all pun intended. His hands move to your hips, pulling your body close to his. There's earnest in his voice when he tells you, "I missed you. A lot."
You smile up at him, your hands on his chest, fingers tracing the blue symbol on the front of his suit. "Missing someone you love is usually what happens when you haven't seen them in more than two weeks." You joke, poking at his chest.
Despite your lighthearted tone, his face still falls. Guilt clouds in his eyes, and his smirk flips into a sad, little frown. "I'm–..."
You stand on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his and cutting him off before he can even begin to apologise. He tastes like strawberry chapstick and all the coffee he's been drinking to keep himself awake over the last two weeks. It's a weird combination of flavours, but one that you've become so accustomed to that you wouldn't change it for the world.
You swear you hear him moan quietly against your lips as he kisses you, so desperate to touch you and be close to you and love you. He pulls you towards him by your hips, your body flush against his, so close you can almost hear – no feel, his heartbeat.
You relish in the moment, allowing him to take control for a second because you've missed him too. You started missing him the minute he left your apartment, Gotham bound. You've missed waking up beside him. His bed-head. His smile. The way he sings power ballads in the shower when he doesn't think you're listening, even though you are because how the hell are you not supposed to hear him? You've missed every single piece of him, and you're glad he's been returned to you in pristine condition.
You pull away from him before things can get too heated, before he can even think about slipping his tongue into your mouth and lifting you up on to the counter. Dick is breathless, already wound up. The pale skin of his cheeks flooded with heat that stains them crimson, and you can't help but take a second to appreciate how cute he looks like this. And he's looking at you – in all your glory, donning old pyjamas and a crazy bed head – like you're the most beautiful, precious thing he's ever laid his eyes on. It makes you feel weak in the knees.
"I missed you too." You mumble, pushing a few wayward strands of hair out of his face.
He sighs, "Listen, dove, I'm really–..."
You throw your head back, letting out a loud ugghhhh mixed in with a giggle. "Shut up. I don't need to hear the famous Dick Grayson 'I'm sorry' speech again."
"Things just got–..."
"A little crazy!" You walk away from him, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room area; he follows your trail like a lost puppy, as he always does. "I heard what happened. Read it in the Gazette. You don't have to apologise for it. I get it."
Dick stands next to the couch as you walk over to the open window that he slipped through earlier tonight, hands on his hips. "So... You're not mad at me? Not even annoyed?" He sounds unsure, as if he's just waiting for you to blow up at him, even though he knows you're past that point. Hell, you've never been at that point. You've always been understanding of him and his situation; you were in the same boat as him for god knows how long, struggling to keep a relationship because you couldn't seem to find a balance between your life in and out of the suit. You've never held it against him, and you wouldn't think about starting to.
You glance over your shoulder and give him a soft, sweet smile as reassurance while you try to shove the old, stiff single-hung window shut. "Your family's in Gotham, and they needed your help."
You've only met his strange, mis-matched Gotham family a handful of times, but you care about them like they're your own, because in a way they are. The first time you met them, after the initial surprise of finding out you're Thorn – 'the one Dickie-Bird never shuts the fuck up about', as Jason put it – they welcomed you with open arms, even Bruce. You receive regular check in texts from Cass (usually a meme), and Damian calls you demanding to speak with Dick whenever he suspects he's being purposefully ignored.
"I'd rather you be gone for two weeks straight than hear any bad news coming from Gotham. Especially about you or your family." You give the window one last, hard shove, stepping back when it finally closes with a thud. You turn your attention back to him, "So, no. Not even annoyed. But I do wish you'd close the window after yourself."
Dick shrugs, a small grin on his lips, "I think the breeze is nice."
You scoff, "It's not a breeze. It's wind. Seriously, if you don't start closing the window when you come in, I'm gonna lock it. I'm gonna make you use the entrance. You're gonna have to knock on the door to get in here."
He lets out the most petulant whine you've ever heard, one that you're sure he's used on Bruce one too many times to get his own way – it probably worked, too. "That's not fair."
You just whine back at him mockingly as you walk over to the couch and flop yourself down on your back. "Oh, how tragic. You'll have to use the door of the apartment we've been renting for over a year. My heart hurts for you."
"What if you're asleep?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised.
You shrug, smirking at him, "Then you'll have to wait outside allllll night until I wake up."
"What if it's an emergency?"
"Then you'll have to make sure you knock extra loud."
"You're so cruel to me. Always out to hurt poor Dickie's feelings." He climbs up onto the arm of the couch, knees pressing into the soft cushion, ready to drop his body onto yours and melt into you. But you stick your foot out before he can, pushing against his chest and keeping him stationary. He gives you a look of offence, slapping your foot gently in a weak attempt to make you move. You don't.
"Stop leaving the window open."
"I will." He affirms, tapping your foot again.
"Promise?"
"Yes. I promise." He says, with a childish roll of his eyes.
You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, a slight warning that tells him he better take his promise seriously, before dropping your foot. Without hesitation, he lets his body free fall on to yours, although careful not to crush you under his full weight. Still, you let out a quiet oof, because he's heavy – even heavier in that suit of his. You don't have time to think about asking him to shift his weight a little, because his legs are on either side of your body, hands have already found their way to your waist, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
Passionate and slow to begin with, making up for the weeks he's spent away from you; though it seems to turn heated quickly. You let him take the lead, allow him to nip on your bottom lip gently and slip his tongue into your mouth. You give him a minute to re-explore the familiar territory before you decide to have some fun of your own, biting down on his tongue gently and sucking against it. Dick lets out the most delicious, pathetic moan you've ever heard: one that has you giggling whilst pressing your thighs together in an attempt to keep yourself under control.
He pulls back, nose pressed against your own, shooting you a playful glare while your shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "What?" He asks, voice low and on the gruffer side, a bad cover up for what he'd just let slip from his throat seconds ago.
"Someone's excited tonight."
"Hm. Told you." He kisses your nose gently, then your cheek, trailing kisses all the way down to your jaw. "Missed you." He tucks his face into your neck, and you let out a gasp when you feel his tongue drag against the sensitive skin, your back arching into him. "'Nd m'sorry." He mumbles.
"I thought I told you not to apologise." You say, though it's strained; his lips are attached to your neck, and you're finding it hard to even think, let alone form sentences.
"I still wanted to."
You breathe out a laugh, though it turns into something of a moan when you feel his teeth scrape against your skin. "Can't help yourself, can you?"
"Nope." He says, popping the 'P'. Without warning, he bites down on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder. You let out a noise – something between a yelp and a loud moan, and when you look down at him with a pout on your lips, he's grinning at you. "Payback."
"You're a fuckhead."
"You started it."
"....Touché."
You fall quiet, allowing him to continue on with his revenge attack on your neck, whimpering when he sucks down on your sweet spots; cursing under your breath when he slips his cold, gloved hand under the thin fabric of your shirt.
"Don't you have somewhere to be tonight?" You ask. A throwaway question, really. Just a cheap little dig at him to distract yourself from the fact he's getting you riled up.
But then he pauses, his whole body tensing for just a moment, before he answers with a, "No..."
And now your throwaway question is a serious inquiry. "So you do have somewhere you need to be tonight?"
He hums against your skin, "It can wait."
The truth is, it probably can't wait. You try not to read up on crime in Blüdhaven so often, try to keep your days of being a protecter of the city in the past as much as you can (Dick is the exception, of course), but even you know that the city has suffered massively from Nightwing's two week leave of absence in Gotham. Gang and mob activities began to rise the second he left; Blüdhaven always seems to deteriorate into madness when he's not around to keep everyone and everything in line.
With a sigh, you grab on to the back of his suit and pull him away from you, choosing to ignore his whiny protest, making him look at you. "If there's somewhere you need to be, you should go."
"I already told you. It can wait."
You smile at him, brows raised, "Can it? You've been gone for two weeks. You have a lot of catching up to do. Blühaven's really been missing its Boy Wonder."
Dick smirks, "Has it missed me as much as you?"
"I don't think that's possible. I've been crying, like, every day. Total devastation while you've been gone."
"And not a single word of comfort from your nine other boyfriends?" His jaw drops in mock disbelief. "I don't know why you like them more than me."
You hum, "I only like eight of them more than I like you."
He snorts, "Oh, well that makes all the difference."
You smack his shoulder playfully, "Get up."
With a groan, he uses the back cushions of the sofa to push himself off of you, "Can't believe I'm being kicked out of my own apartment. I've been here for, like, fifteen minutes, and I'm already being told to leave." He stands up, stretching out his back as he trudges back to the kitchen to pick up the discarded mask and gadgets he left on the counter. "I'm starting to think you're just dying to get rid of me."
You gasp, "Me?! Never!" You sit yourself up, back leaning against the arm. "I'm just looking out for you. You've already fallen behind schedule."
He chuckles as he straps his gear back into place, "Then why don't you dust off that suit of yours and help me get back on track?"
"Absolutely not. My vigilante days are over." You say with a scoff.
"Don't you miss it?" He asks, shoving his escrima sticks into the tight straps on his back.
"If by 'it', you mean having to haul your ass out of a mess every night because you can't help but bite off more than you can chew, then no. I don't."
"Hey! That's unfair!"
"Is it?"
Dick scoffs, "Yeah. We all know you're the worst at following orders."
You fling your legs over the side of the couch and push yourself up, "Yeah, I am. But you're impulsive."
He fits the domino mask on, and you can't help but feel slightly satisfied at how it sits on his face so perfectly. "Yeah, well, I'm doing fine on my own. Very much alive, actually."
You saunter over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, looking up at him through your lashes, "Thanks to me. I kept you out of the shit for god knows how long."
"And I'm continuing to keep myself out of it." He taps your nose. "Learnt from the best." You smile softly at him, but then he follows up with, "I meant Batman, by the way." Before he can even gauge your reaction, he's already cracked himself up with his own joke, like he'd been planning it in his head the whole time. He probably – no, definitely had been.
You step back, folding your arms across your chest and shoving your tongue into your cheek to stop yourself from laughing along with it. "You're an asshole."
"I'm your asshole, though." Dick gives you his cheesiest grin as he struts over to the window, patting his body down to check he hasn't forgotten anything. You follow him, stand beside him as he slides the window open with ease and curse him internally because that window – the one he leaves open almost every night – is usually your greatest enemy. But of course, it plays ball for the golden boy. Typical.
With a rather dramatic sigh he climbs through, only partly though, sitting on the sill with one leg dangling freely above the city and the other still in your apartment, foot pressing against the hardwood floor. "I won't be too long. Promise." He tells you.
You snort, "That translates to 'I'll see you in the morning', in Dick Grayson terms."
Dick lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, a soft smile on his lips, "Maybe. But I'll be home for breakfast, for sure. What do you want? I'm feeling..." He pauses for a second, chewing on his bottom lip before he comes to a conclusion, "Pancakes."
"You're always feeling pancakes. They're like, the only thing you're good at making. Unless we want our whole apartment building to burn down because you decided to branch out for breakfast."
"Pancakes it is!" He announces.
"Cool."
He nods, "Yeah. Cool."
Then it falls quiet between the two of you. Dick rubs his chin, staring right at you – specifically a certain part of your face – as you chew down on that something and glance around the room, feigning cluelessness. He won't leave without a kiss goodbye; not once has he climbed through the window and disappeared into the night without planting his lips on yours. You'll give into him, because you always do, but you love to tease. Not to mention the fact he's only just come back, and although you're more than happy for him to go out and take care of whatever's going on in the streets, you're willing to delay Nightwing's return to Blüdhaven for a little while longer.
You're making a point to look anywhere but at him, and the longer the silence drags on, the more you begin to feel the giggles rising in your throat. You can't even look at him for more than a second, his lips pressed into a thin line as he tries to fight back hysterics because he knows what you're doing.
Eventually, you take it upon yourself to break the silence, covering your mouth with your hand and asking through stifled laughter, "Are you gonna leave?"
Dick breaks, bursting out into a fit of laughter. He leans his head back against the window frame, shoulders shaking. "I can't leave yet." You shoot him an amused look that says 'oh really?'. "You know what I want."
You let out a lighthearted groan which quickly descends into a giggle, "Do I have to?"
"Uh-huh. Got two weeks to make up for."
"And whose fault is that?"
He shrugs, "Mine, and I'm dead set on making up for lost time. Bring it here, Thorny." He leans over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.
"Don't fucking call me that." You try to say it with as much malice as you can muster, which is hard considering you can't seem to stop grinning at him.
"Wow. Someone's feeling prickly tonight. I can see why you called yourself Thorn." His hand rests on the small of your back, gently commanding you to stay put.
"Fuck you, Grayson. I'll push you out of the window."
His brows shoot up in amusement at your meaningless threat. "That'd be rude."
"Yeah?"
Dick nods slowly, "Yeah. Could kill me." That's a lie. Both of you know that even if you did mean it and you were planning to push him out, he'd find a way to counter. You live on the top floor of your building, but he's a trained acrobat and a quick thinker with enough gadgets on his person to ensure he'd be back at your window in two minutes, tops.
Still, you play along. "Maybe that's the goal."
"You love me too much to kill me."
"Oh, you think?"
He blows out his cheeks, "Wow. You're so mean to me."
You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, "Yet you keep coming back."
"Well, I do live here." He deadpans. You stare at him for a good ten seconds before you break out into another fit of giggles, punching his shoulder and breathing out a 'fuck you'. He raises his free hand, "I'm just saying. Wouldn't wanna go through the moving out process. Y'know, having to pack my stuff and hire a moving service—...."
"Get out!"
"Nuh-uh. Gimme a kiss first." Dick leans closer to you and puckers his lips, screwing his eyes shut. He gives you a moment, and when he doesn't feel you move he raises his hand and taps his index finger against his lips. "I won't leave until you kiss me."
With another groan, you lean in and plant your lips against his. You try to pull away quickly, short and sweet, but he keeps you close. He kisses you again, and again, and again. Until you're practically balancing on the heels of your feet, held up only by his strong hand on your back, and he's almost back inside of your apartment.
You let out a breathless laugh against his lips, your hands pushing against his shoulders, "Go, or I won't let you leave."
"Is that a promise?" He murmurs.
"Go."
With a sigh, he turns his body and lifts his other leg over the window, gripping on to the top pane to keep himself seated for the time being. He looks over his shoulder at you, "I'll see you soon, okay?"
You give him a smile, "Okay."
"I'm gonna make you the best pancakes you've ever eaten."
"I'm sure."
He rolls his eyes playfully, because how dare you doubt his pancake making skills. "See you in the morning, babe. Love you!" With that, he pushes himself off the window and free falls.
You've watched him do it countless times, but you can't help the way it takes your breath away every single time; panic sucker punches you right in the stomach and you can't help but yell out 'Richard John Grayson' as you throw yourself towards the window and lean the upper half of your body out into the cold city.
That wing-suit of his will be the death of you one day.
You look down at the dimly lit streets, looking for any sign of your boyfriend who's just allowed himself to drop from the top floor of the apartment building, but he's nowhere in sight. It's only when you hear his voice calling your name that you realise he's standing atop a lower roof across the street, a dumb grin on his lips.
"That was really funny, Dickie!" You yell out sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest.
"It's my party trick!" He shouts back, resting his hands on his hips. "You know what I always say: you'll never know if you can fly unless—...."
"You take the risk of falling! Whatever! Get out of here!"
You hear him laugh, despite the distance between you. He turns, ready to take off into the depths of the city, but not before yelling another, "I love you!"
With an eye roll, and a soft smile on your lips, you tell him, "I love you too! Be safe!" You're just about to retreat back into the warmth of your apartment, but you remember you still need to tell him something very important. "Close the window when you get back!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know!"
The next morning, you wake up to a sleep-deprived boyfriend cursing under his breath at a bowl of homemade pancake mix, and a very open window.
#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#dc comics#DCU#DC x reader#dick grayson x you#nightwing x you#dick grayson fic#dick grayson fanfiction#dick grayson fluff#fluff#nightwing fic#nightwing fanfiction#batfamily#batfamily x reader
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( cw. smut drabble. gn rdr x gojo s. addicted gojo. one-night-stand. strangers-to-?. slight masochism. gojo being gojo. sexual jokes. ) + ( for @asukases ).
gojo satoru isn’t a man of little words—he’s the most talkative brat you’ll ever know.
late last night, when you were at your most pleased and vulnerable, his words soothed you like a fine whiskey running down your throat. his hands were magic—unfathomable, the most pleasurable magic you’d ever felt.
in all honesty, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a magician in a past life.
the tips of his fingers kneaded your plush waist like dough, soothing you as he caressed the deepest parts of you. his spoke the nastiest, most guttural and lustful things in your ear, praising you for warming his bed, for allowing him to touch you, please you, to love you—and good god, this fucker had you wrapped around his fingers.
“a pretty thing like you ‘posed to act this slutty?” he laughed, his eyelids lowering as he angled his hips just the perfect way to pull such a string of curses and moans from your mouth, which caused yet another orgasm to wash over you. but gojo, the bastard he was, had to honor the satoru name—he had to honor that he had the stamina of a bull chasing a red flag, he had to honor the fact he fucked like a fratboy getting his first bitch.
good god, you were better though. better than any chick wanting a quick fuck. better than any stripper sucking him for a few bucks.
better than a bitch.
he had the power to pull his name–his honor–from your lips as though you were a priest and he was a god. your puffy eyes and swollen lips were a buffet to a demon like him. his huffed, grunted, damn he even growled, at the way your innards fluttered around his girthy cock. his full, enlarged tip stroked your prostate over and over and over, making you mewl like a pornstar.
when he came, successfully making your walls a pretty, creamy white, he wanted to rest—but you, the sex demon you are, grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him down, scissoring the last thread of resilience he had, and cajoled him, urged him, fucking begged him, to make sure nobody else would fuck you without knowing he had you first. that he was the one who made your nails transform into claws which drew blood from his back with the scratches you made.
gojo satoru, being a man of many words, drew long, painful scratches from you as a reward for how good of a man he was. and every. single. time, he hissed and lowered his head—it felt too fucking good. when you rode him, letting his cock engulf and stretch itself within you, you leaned back and digged your nails into his thighs in order to stabilize yourself. with your eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming feeling of his tip caressing your innards, you didn’t realize how his teeth was sucked into his lower lip in order to keep the pathetic whimpers in from how fucking good your nails felt.
the morning after welcomed him with your vanilla scent to which he undoubtedly enjoyed. when he stretched an arm out in order to feel your rosey warmth, he was met with an empty bedside. the sheets were fixed, the pillow was set in place, hell even the cover was folded the right way.
was this a rejection? did you not want more after the good ass performance he gave you last night? jesus christ, he’d never been in such a situation. one where he was rejected? the gojo satoru?
never fucking heard of.
he flopped over and sprawled out, looking up at the ceiling for a beat, the feeling of last night crawling down south. he missed you. the feeling of your breath against his skin, the overwhelming pleasure he received when your nails grazed his puffy tip, and the animalistic marking you gave him last night—jesus. before he allowed himself to get up out of bed and relish in the daylight, he snuck a hand underneath the covers and rubbed his growing erection.
god all mighty, gojo threw his head back against the plush pillow in an effort to soothe his thoughts. his cock twitched against the covers. was he this fucking desperate usually?
you, the mystery from last night, had gojo leashed to you like a puppy, undoubtedly making him want more. and he’d be damned if he didn’t find you like the loyal dog he is.
© sickdaniel . do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.
#dan.writes#dan.blurbs#x male reader#x gn reader#x bottom male reader#gojo x reader#x female reader#x bottom reader#male x male smut#male x female reader#gojo x you#gojo x male reader#gojo satoru x female reader#gojo satoru x male reader#gojo satoru x gender neutral reader#x bottom female reader#bottom male reader
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Dante & Vergil with their s/o hunting bloodthirsty mosquitoes (+Nero with Kyrie doing the same)
Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader; Nero x Kyrie
Summary: Oh, summer. Heatwaves, short clothes, ice cream... And mosquitoes. A human hunting down a mosquito is one thing, but a half-demon? Well, those little hellish beings better be ready for it.
Author's notes: You're probably thinking yours truly lost all her sanity, and you're probably right. It's the second day of spring here where I live and it's so freaking hot, the only thing I've been able to eat the last few days was ice cream. It's usually hot as hell here in Brazil, but not this time of the year - December/January/February are the most unbelievably hot months in my city.
And, of course, the mosquitoes have to rise from hell itself to buzz in your ears while you try to sleep and suck your blood, ginving you terrible rashes in the morning. I killed four of them the past two days and yesterday, I had to enlist my sister to help hunt one of them down. This little fic might have something to do with that incident xD
I had to write something and laugh at all those goofs trying to be functional normal humans. That's it. It's all ridiculous fluff and laughs while melting from too much heat, hope you guys enjoy ^^
Dante
“Ya know, if ya clap those really fast, you might summon a demon.”
You just looked back at Dante with murder in your eyes.
The red devil stood by the stairs, having his arms crossed and leaning by the guardrail, that characteristic grin spreading across his lips.
You wanted to throw the flip flops in your hands right at his face – maybe that would get rid of that insufferable cocky smile.
Sometimes you understood Vergil in a soul level.
“If said demon decimates the freaking mosquito who’s been testing my sanity for the past hour, I’m all in.” You turned your eyes back to the ceiling, searching for that single little thing that took peace away from you that day.
The shop wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, that you had to admit, but the last couple of days were hotter than the layers of fire in Hell itself – Vergil would argue, but even he realized it wasn’t wise to discuss with you when you were melting faster than an ice cream on asphalt.
The heat, however, brought along the mosquito wave.
Hence why you were on the top of Dante’s desk, barefoot, sporting your peak summer style, flip flops ready to kill. Hearing Dante making fun of that situation wasn’t really aligned to your mood at that moment.
“Eh, already…?” Dante still had the smile plastered on his lips, casually approaching the desk. He was one to talk: given how hot it was, he was wearing only his pants, completely barefoot and shirtless – and even then, you questioned how he could walk around with those heavy, black pants without falling apart. “Thought these little fuckers would take a lot more time to appear.”
“Well, apparently they thought the same and figured a surprise attack would be more efficient.” You just heard his giggle as you kept on looking everywhere near the ceiling, round and round the desk. Dante rested his arms on it, casually looking up to watch you.
He couldn’t deny, it was funny. All that made him smile and relax: it was so mundane, so… Human. To think one day he’d be at his shop with his most beloved being in all dimensions, worrying about heatwaves and nagging mosquitoes; watching as you practically danced around on his desk, hunting mosquitoes with all the might in the world. As if you both didn’t hunt demons for a living.
As if life was just like that… Perfectly mundane.
“You give’em more credit than they deserve, babe.” Dante leaned his head in one of his hands, watching you with dreamy eyes. At the peak of your annoyance, you never thought the son of Sparda would look at you so lovingly – then again, he wasn’t an ordinary man.
“Oh, I don’t think so, hot stuff.” Your answer was mindless, making Dante open a huge, radiant smile, sparkling as much as his eyes. “Those things come directly from the layers of Hell, I’m certain of it.” You finally put your arms down, looking back at Dante and finding him with that unexpected expression. “What…?”
“You called me hot stuff, hot stuff.” He winked back, making you realize your ‘mistake’.
It wasn’t really a mistake. But Dante would definitely become even more insufferable with that.
“I blame the mosquitoes from Hell.” Your answer was ridiculous but sure, making Dante burst into laughs as he circled the table to sit on his big chair.
“That’d be a great name for a metal band. The Mosquitoes From Hell.” He laughed even more, resting his feet on a small spot on the table, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with your hunt.
“There you go. You, Verge and Nero can play together now.” You didn’t have much fun in your voice, going back to searching your nemesis in the air. Dante snorted a laugh, knowing you were joking – even if you were too focused to make it obvious.
“Dressed as vampires, it’d be perfect!”
But you couldn’t remain too serious around Dante for a long time. As soon as he added that, you closed your eyes, resting your wrists on your waist, letting out a sigh along a laugh. Imagining them all dressed as vampires, playing together as mosquitoes from Hell was too much – Dante now had your attention, beating the rogue mosquito you couldn’t find anymore.
You eyed him back, having a half smile on your lips. Dante was relaxed as he could be, his arms on the back of his head, helping him rest as he watched you with all the interest in the world.
“C’mon. I’d be one hell of a vampire!” Once again, he had that smile on his lips – sprinkled with a little more happiness now that you were into it.
“You’d be the sexiest one for sure, Mr. it’s-too-hot-to-wear-shirts.” You pointed back at him with one of the flip flops still in your hand, making Dante smile even more – a little blushed, but that could be because of the heat. “Dante!”
Without thinking twice, he caught your hand and pulled you to him, making you both rock on the chair violently as you tried not to end up on the floor. But Dante was strong and used to a lot more difficult tricks, having you on his lap, both legs secured by one of his hands on his right side. You had to let go of the flip flops, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, as both of you laughed.
“A reckless vampire too!” You finally put some distance between your faces as you were finally settled, finding Dante’s blushed cheeks as he laughed while still looking at you with adoration in his eyes. “Well, well. You got my attention now, cowboy.”
If only Dante knew how much you loved seeing him like that – completely human, vulnerable, having fun, as if none of the heavy burdens from his past weighted on his soul anymore.
“I’m happy, then. I was feeling a little ignored, babe.” He chuckled back, still blushing. Whenever it was hot like that, Dante had a tendency to be as red as an apple – and you didn’t complain. In a certain way, it was cute. As cute as a half-demon son of Sparda could be.
“I’m never ignoring you, babe.” You murmured, brushing some of his stray white hair away from his eyes, giving room to those beautiful skies that always allowed you to see his soul. Dante would always allow you to see him like that. “You better be ready for some undivided attention.”
“Hmmm, I could use a little o’ that…”
You barely waited for Dante to finish his sentence, catching his lips in a slow kiss. Dante rested one of his hands on the back of your neck, after brushing some of your hair back.
It was hot as Hell, yes. But not even that would stop you from loving your red devil.
Only one thing ever could.
mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEppppPPPPP!
“Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’…!” Dante immediately let go of your lips, having the peak of annoyance in his beautiful blue eyes. “Where’s that little shit?! Did you hear it too?!”
“That’s precisely what I’ve been through for the last hours, my beloved.” You had the most annoyed smile plastered on your lips, eyes closed as if you were trying to maintain yourself calm. “I told you. When you least expect it, that spawn from Hell will meep furiously in your ears, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Oh, there is.” Now Dante put you aside, taking your flip flops and climbing on the desk. “I’m gonna obliterate that lil’ bastard!”
“Now that I’d love to see.” Oh, how tables had turned. There you were, sitting on his big chair, arms crossed, cocky grin in your lips, watching that brick house of a man using his enhanced demonic senses to find the darn mosquito. “Who would’ve known. Good to deal with demonic pests and mundane pests.”
“Oh, look who’s bein’ all funny now!” Dante glanced you again, but he himself couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Guess I’m the full package, huh?”
“That just makes you hotter, if you wanna know.” You had a matter-of-fact tone, leaning back on the chair and resting your feet on the table. “Nothing like a man who can fight and love like Aragorn as well as cook some damn good potatoes and look after the house like Samwise Gamgee.”
“You know what they say, get yourself a man who can do both. Found ya!”
You could swear Dante’s voice had a tinge of his trigger distortion as the red devil finally found his foe flying around his head. Dante tried a few slaps, but the mosquito was too close for him to be able to kill it. Using the flip flops to fan it away from him, you both lost the mosquito for a while, remaining quiet. Dante used all of his senses to finally see it nearing the couch – with a deadly aim, he one-shot his pray with your flip flop, too fast and lethal for the thing to run away.
The mosquito was no more – its remains were glued on the sole of your flip flop in a stain of blood.
“That was so hot.” You were mesmerized and a little bit jealous of his abilities not only to hunt demons but now, to hunt mosquitos as well. Dante really was the whole package.
“I’m startin’ to question your definition of hot, babe.” Dante let out a good laugh, sitting on the edge of the desk, legs dangling by your side.
“Everything you do, basically.” You shrugged, getting up from the chair to be at least almost his size. Standing between his legs, you wrapped your arms around his neck, ruffling his soft white hair back in order to see his eyes – those eyes you loved so much, so vulnerable and loving towards you. “Thank you so much for saving my desperate human soul, hot stuff.”
“I’m always at your service, pretty eyes.” Dante’s answer was almost a murmur as he leaned to catch your lips with his one more time. “No interruptions this time.”
You laughed between his words and kisses, ready to spend the rest of the night loving him unconditionally.
That is. If you both didn’t hear another approaching MEEP into your ears.
“You gotta be kidding me.” You sighed, throwing your head back.
“Get all the shoes, babe. Those lil’ shits have no idea what they got themselves into.”
Of course, you both had other plans for that night – involving a lot of love, kisses and giggles between you, as time stopped and you could enjoy yourselves, even with that relentless heatwave. The night was spent, though, with you both viciously hunting mosquitoes, keeping scores, making bets between yourselves, drinking beer and eating the leftover cold pizza in the fridge.
It wasn’t what people would consider a perfect evening – but, whenever you were together, things were certainly a lot more entertaining. As you and Dante took refuge in his room, finally getting rid of all the mosquitoes, you lied tiredly in each other’s arms, laughing about your hunt that night, until you fell asleep without a single meep to wake you up.
And that, you would say, was perfect.
Vergil
“I need to enlist your help for a mission, my love.”
Vergil was immediately serious. It was funny how you could watch him change his demeanor – you once told Dante it was like when Marilyn Monroe put on her persona and suddenly people were aware she was there and Dante never allowed his brother to have a single moment of peace upon knowing that.
But it was true. It took some time, but Vergil slowly allowed his shoulders to rest relaxed whenever you were around. His eyebrows weren’t as harsh, his jaw wasn’t tensed all the time. You could see how his forehead remained smooth, how his long hands rested calmly somewhere instead of constantly gripping some invisible weapon. His breath turned slower and smoother, his focus allowing him to plunge completely into his beloved books instead of remaining always with a steady eye on his surroundings.
Whenever you were around, Vergil was safe – of that, he was sure. He had his moments of slipping up, of having his survival instincts make him suddenly tense up and remain vigilant. But you managed to bring a peace to him he never thought he would experience before – and Vergil always allowed himself to slowly, very slowly, relax again.
When you were serious, though, survival-mode Vergil came back to the surface: shoulders tensing, eyes turning into steely blocks of ice, hands closing in fists, gazing you intently while waiting for anything to suddenly appear so he could kill it with just a glare. It was his famous ‘dark aura’ as you called, and not even Dante had that – it was Vergil’s special power and it could make the bravest of demons run away with just a stare.
“What happened?” Vergil’s voice was cold and low, carrying not only all his worry, but his rage.
“The worst creature from Hell has ascended to test us.” You spoke solemnly but there was something quite not right with your tone. Nevertheless, Vergil was even more weary: he was ready to void-cut your way to Nero’s place so you could be safe while he dealt with whatever it was that decided to haunt you. “There’s a huge mosquito in the bedroom. I can’t work properly and, trust me, we will never get a good night of sleep with that thing buzzing around.”
“A… Mosquito…?” Now Vergil slowly crossed his arms, looking down at you. He still had his shoulders tense, jaw locked and stoic look in his eyes, but you knew those would water down after a while – the most important thing was the ‘dark aura’: as soon as he realized you were both safe and there was nothing to worry too much about, it vanished just like Marylin Monroe did whenever she didn’t want to be recognized.
It was impressive, really.
“Yes. And don’t you dare mock me.” You pointed right at him as soon as it seemed Vergil was ready to scold you for being foolish – something that looked quite similar to when he was about to go in a fight. “You can be my guest and try to sleep with the mosquitoes, I’ll sleep on the couch if I need too. But those things will not rob me of my sanity.”
“Hmmm. It’s been a while I don’t see one…” With those words, Vergil followed you to your shared bedroom, having just come out of his shower into that mess. “It makes sense. I believe they come out when the weather is hot, right…?”
“Oh, c’mon. You have to have these little things in Hell. It’s practically a mini-demon spawn with wings and tiny horns imbued in it to drive you crazy.” As soon as you finished your description, Vergil had to close his eyes and do his best to not snort a quick laugh – something he wasn’t really successful at. “You can’t possibly make me believe those weren’t made by the forces of evil to suck blood and endlessly annoy all living beings.”
“We have worst in Hell.” Vergil’s look at you was still strict, but his silver eyes had a tinge of care. He would never admit out loud – and he almost wouldn’t admit even to himself – but the way you talked, the way you eloquently described things to amuse not only him but yourself as well always seemed adorable to Vergil.
You, in the other hand, eyed him with notes of annoyance while resting your hands on your waist. You were the face of the summer that day, having seriously considered being only in your underwear during a few moments, completely out of not being able to tackle the sudden heatwave. Vergil had his dark pajama pants on, his torso covered by a white sleeveless shirt, completely barefoot and his hair slicked back – still wet from the almost cold shower he just took.
Whenever you questioned his heat resistance – afraid that he would die from the heatwave out of not wanting to show too much of his skin ‘like his stupid brother’ all the time – Vergil would just glare you and answer with ‘I’ve had worse”.
You knew he was talking about Hell. In a way, Vergil was quite different than everyone else because of all the things he got used to or desensitized in Hell – heat was only one of them. Vergil could go days without eating, without sleeping, he could endure a lot of pain and dismiss lethal wounds to keep on fighting, and so on… But his sense of taste was also a lot more sensitive, specially regarding sweet foods, as well as his sense of smell – when it came to delightful scents Vergil could notice them a mile away but he could also feel sick from being overwhelmed after a while; with foul scents, though, he had a higher tolerance, getting used to them after only a few seconds. Soft textures and lullabies could also get him by surprise, making him always wonder if there was something hidden behind those.
You could make a list of things that Vergil reacted differently or had been desensitized after his long time in Hell – and the heatwave from that day was certainly one of the items in your list.
“Well… Where is it?”
“It was on the ceiling. I climbed up on the bed trying to reach it, but it’s too far away for me.” You sighed, looking back at him. “I don’t know where it is now. We’ll have to hunt it.”
“You are aware that climbing furniture is very dangerous, right?” Vergil spoke slowly, in the same rhythm his steps casually walked around the bedroom.
“Oh, yes. I hunt demons for a living, but climbing a bed to kill a mosquito is going to be my downfall.” Having your flip flops already on your hands, you couldn’t refrain from answering him with sarcasm.
“Even Achilles had his blind spots.” And as much as you hated it, you had to recognize when Vergil was right. “It will take too long to find it this way. It’s easier if we allow it to come to us.”
“Hmmm… That’s a very good idea, hadn’t thought of that before.” You stopped by his side, both of you observing the room with smart eyes.
“You once mentioned they are attracted to breathing.” Vergil looked back at you, making you nod in return. With that confirmation, he started breathing heavily in order to attract the mosquito.
“Good idea. I’m going to turn off the lights too, they seem to leave wherever they are in search for another light source.”
Vergil just agreed with his head as you turned off the lights and stopped by his side, both of you breathing heavily, trying to lure your prey out of its hiding spot.
In all his life, after all he had done, all he sacrificed and all the souls he destroyed – including his own – Vergil never thought he would be doing something so… Ordinary. Stupid even. There were you, in the dark, breathing weirdly to attract a simple mosquito in order to give you some peace of mind.
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, even if a little bit. If he could wish for something, he would wish for ordinary days with you for the rest of his life. Dealing with broken showers in the bathroom, fixing a leaking sink in the kitchen, having all the lights go out and depend only on candles, sit by your side reading thousands of recipes trying to understand why a pie backfired in the oven… All painfully mundane things, but so human. So heartwarming to the soul.
It was a kind of peace Vergil knew he did not deserve after all his actions – after all the blood he had shed. But it was something for him to hope for; and human hearts always kept hope inside even if it was an unlikely sort of hope, right?
As you turned on the lights once more, you and Vergil remained with your breathing technique – but none of you could see even a wing of the mosquito. After a few seconds, you had to look at each other.
“We look quite ridiculous, don’t we…?” With your question, not even Vergil could keep serious – both of you started laughing, shaking your heads in unison.
“We can always wait and see if it appears again.”
But as soon as Vergil let those words out of his lips, both of you picked up the characteristic buzzing of a mosquito around the room. Turning your heads immediately, you could see how Vergil had his hunting glare on: carefully scanning his surroundings, the mosquito wouldn’t escape the vicious Dark Slayer.
“Over there!” You threw one of your flip flops towards it, missing for just a little bit.
The shoe was followed by a small, bright blue summoned sword – and that one didn’t miss.
“Wow. Who would’ve guessed, summoned swords have domestic purposes as well.”
“They are very useful for a great number of things.” Vergil shook his head, letting out a breathy small laugh. But then, his hunting eyes were back. “Did you hear that…?”
“What…?” You froze in place, glancing around the bedroom, trying to listen to what he had picked up. Vergil took one of his fingers to his lips, signaling for you to listen carefully right after, making you focus even more.
Those things didn’t happen all the time – but they would be as unexpected as a shooting star crossing the sky. All of a sudden, catching you by surprise, Vergil’s hands rested on your hips, his lips planting a kiss on your forehead.
“Ah!” But of course. Even if Vergil was careful and didn’t do things as suddenly – or as aggressively – as his twin brother when it came to surprises, you did get startled, tripping on your own feet as he kissed you. “Verge!”
“Y/n! Be careful!” Vergil tried to hold you as best as he could. Your hands entangled, one of his arms trying to embrace your waist and pull you back to him. He lost his balance, though, tripping alongside you and trying to stop whatever was happening – as long as you didn’t get hurt, it would be alright for him.
As unexpected as his kiss was, you both ended up falling on the bed – which, at least, was a fluffy fall. Until, that is, a loud crack resonated through the room. Vergil still held you tight in his arms, your fingers intertwined as you felt the bed giving in under your weight.
When all went silent, you and Vergil both exchanged looks, still trying to understand what happened.
It didn’t take too much to remember your bed was a little wobbly – because of Vergil’s recurrent nightmares, you had a couple accidents with the Yamato, chipping at the bed and having to fix it until you had time to buy a sturdier one. With the weight of the both of you falling on it, the bed couldn’t take it anymore and cracked in pieces.
“I blame the mosquito.” You whispered silently, making Vergil immediately bury his head on your neck.
You could hear a muffled laugh – not loud, but comfortable, as he would always be around you. Resting one of your hands on his wet hair, you smiled as you felt his shoulders finally relax, his jaw losing the tension as Vergil kissed your neck.
“We will look for a new bed tomorrow morning.” He sighed, still wondering if all of that was one of Mundus’ illusions before he woke up once more in Hell, having his soul broken even further.
If it was, Vergil closed his eyes and wished for it to last a little longer this time.
“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch for a while.” You ran your fingers through his hair, making Vergil lean his weight on his arms in order to look into your eyes. There was nothing in there that could point to Mundus’ tricks – your eyes were filled with adoration and a slight tinge of melancholy, a mixture particular to you that always made him secretly breathless and completely vulnerable. “As long as you’re around, anything works for me.”
Vergil always found something quite interesting when you were around. All his life, he believed there were words for everything – and all could be expressed through prose, through a painting of words into a masterpiece. Upon meeting you, though, he realized some things had no words in any languages he knew that could express what he wanted to say – the only thing he could do was to kiss you back with all the admiration that stirred inside his chest.
Indeed, sleeping on the couch was far from perfect. But having your head safe and sound on his chest while he played with your hair, with you listening to his heartbeat as you always enjoyed to do…Vergil thought not even Heaven could be more perfect than that – and he asked whatever could listen to allow him to live such an ordinary, human life for as long as he could.
Because as long as you were around, anything worked for him.
Nero
“Hey, Kyrie…? I was thinking maybe we can move those shelves from the bedroom to the…”
If there was a thing Nero used to do quite often, that thing would be already talking without even making sure the other person was listening. Usually while still walking towards them, screaming in the distance, barely paying attention to said person.
He seriously questioned why he and Kyrie decided to clean and solve all the little issues in their house on the hottest day of the year – but then again, it was a sudden heatwave and no one was expecting it. Nevertheless, his white tank top was already drenched in sweat, his pair of jeans definitely too hot for that day and he was doing something he never did in his life: working barefoot.
Having a piece of furniture he was tinkering with in his hands, he approached the living room so he could tell Kyrie his brilliant idea of moving the shelves to the garage – decluttering the bedroom and having more storage where they actually needed. As he looked up, though, Nero most definitely didn’t expect that sight.
Kyrie was wearing the shortest pair of shorts she could find at home – flimsy, delicate, from her pajamas – and a sports bra. That’s it. Her hair was tied in a bun, while she had a spatula on one of her hands, completely barefoot on top of the kitchen counter island. Her skin glistening with sweat, while she viciously looked for something.
Nero didn’t want to blush. He wasn’t going to blush. He pursed his lips and did his best to control all of his feelings – after all, he could control his devil trigger, controlling blushing because of seeing that goddess of a woman right on their kitchen wearing almost nothing and being absolutely gorgeous shouldn’t be harder, right…? Right…?! It shouldn’t. Nero wasn’t…
He was blushing. Like a bell pepper.
“Oh, Nero! I didn’t listen to what you said, I’m sorry…!” Kyrie was a little startled upon seeing him – and she certainly took the blushing as his response to how hot the day was rather than anything else.
“What… Did you know climbing furniture is dangerous?!” After the initial shock, though, Nero’s protective instincts towards his loved ones had to kick in. Approaching the island in a hurry, he had his hands on his waist, but ready to get Kyrie out of there.
“Oh, I do, don’t treat me like a child.” Even though her answer was annoyed, Kyrie dismissed his comment with a sigh and a slight smile: she would never complain about how protective Nero was towards her. She would always appreciate that. “But I’m trying to solve a problem on my own.”
“Well, the only problem I see here is you on top of the counter, beautiful.” Nero rested his hands on the cold stone, slightly considering laying down on it to get rid of the heat. Maybe standing on it wasn’t that bad, but he would never endorse such dangerous behavior on her side. “C’mon. Lemme help you down.”
“Hey! I’m doing some hunting, I won’t climb down now!” Kyrie now had her hands on her waist, finally looking down at Nero and finding his always attentive but loving aquamarine eyes. She could never get angry at those eyes, he definitely was her soft spot. “I’ve been doing this for the past half-hour. It’s ok, Nero.”
“Wait, what? Huntin’? What’s the matter?!” It was like she flipped a switch in Nero. Suddenly, there was the devil hunter, always aware of his surroundings, ready to sucker-punch any clueless demon that appeared in front of him. All of this got amplified with the fact that Kyrie was around and he would be damned if anyone even thought about touching her in his presence.
She had to giggle. It was almost a natural response even. Nero could have all the pose he wanted – he could be the troublesome punk with a dirty mouth and short-tempered behavior all he wanted – but Kyrie could always see the man he was underneath all that. In his aquamarine eyes, Kyrie has ever seen a sweet man, gentle, worried about his friends, loyal and caring, ready to sacrifice everything and anything for his loved ones. The punk attitude could fool everyone else but her.
And Kyrie had to admit, Nero looked as cute as a badass demon hunter could be when she saw everything that was under his short-tempered answers, ready to get into a fight – the love, the care and the immediate instinct to protect at all costs.
He looked up at her, clueless for a few moments. Kyrie would always look like a little angel in Nero’s eyes, with a giggle resembling little silver bells on a golden morning. Her cheeks slightly blushing, her beautiful hair starting to fall over her face, her rose-pink lips so delicate as her warm brown eyes watched him with care.
“It’s nothing like that, silly…” Her voice was always soft, so different than everything else Nero had always heard. Since the beginning, he was always used to being treated harshly or with indifference, but Kyrie was the first one to offer him comfort and love. He always thought falling for her was inevitable, as they were meant to be from the moment their eyes crossed for the first time. “I’m having mosquito problems.”
“Mosquito problems…?” And suddenly, all that wave of adrenaline washed off his body. Nero could be calmer, it wasn’t anything to be horribly worried at. Leaning over the kitchen counter, he smiled up at his little angel. “All that ‘cause of a lil’ mosquito…?”
“Oh, don’t downplay it like that!” Kyrie pretended to be mad, lightly slapping one of his arms with the spatula. As Nero giggled, she started looking around again. “I’ve been on that for the past half-hour. I’ve been trying to catch it but it’s too fast!”
“We can always try some pesticide.” As soon as Nero suggested, Kyrie glanced at him.
“Nero. Last time we tried pesticide, you almost died from the smell. We had to ask Dante to sleep at the shop, remember?” Of course, he didn’t. Nero had probably erased that memory out of his head, but Kyrie would forever be there to remind him: out of the two, he was the most sensitive with strong chemical smells, specially cleaning products and pesticides, given his demonic heritage. Nero would never want to admit it out loud, but it was true.
“Oh… Yeah.” As always, Nero would do his best to change subjects – thanking the heatwave for the first time for serving as a perfect cover for his blushing. “But ya know, killin’ it with a spatula isn’t the best thing in the world. Actually, killin’ it isn’t like you at all.”
“Well, I get rashes every time they bite me. I must be allergic to something.” Kyrie sighed, finally approaching Nero on the counter. He stepped back for a bit and she put the spatula away, sitting in front of him, legs hanging from the counter. “And you were sort of allergic too when we were kids.”
“Ah, yeah, I remember… Got some pretty nasty itches all over my arms.” Nero let out a quick laugh, unconsciously resting his hands on Kyrie’s thighs. She was warmer than usual – not as much as him though – and her skin was soft, slightly damp. As a reflex, he lightly caressed her tights with his thumbs while talking – and Kyrie thanked the heatwave for hiding the real reason she was blushing at that moment. “You’re right, I’ll give ya that. Mosquitoes aren’t allowed in this house.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was a small whisper, Kyrie still trying to control her heartbeat. She wasn’t half-demon like Nero though, and her human heart would always follow her own feelings instead of whatever her mind was trying to control. “Do you think you can help me with it?”
“I can always help you with anything, princess.” His aquamarine eyes sparkled with care as Nero leaned forward to place a very not rushed at all kiss on her angel lips. Kyrie cradled his face with both of her hands, smiling into his lips – Nero always tasted honey-sweet to her, no matter the situation. “Alright, angel, time to deal with your mosquito. Where’s the lil’ bastard?”
“It was flying around the ceiling. I managed to slap it a couple of times but, as you said, spatulas aren’t that efficient.” She let go of him, watching lovingly as Nero got a couple of shoes he had left in the kitchen while cleaning the bedroom floor. “What are you going to do with so many shoes…?”
“Well, I got a trick up my sleeve.” With a wink, Nero’s ice blue trigger claws appeared behind his back like a set of wings, catching one shoe in each of its hands. Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing. “Ya know, demons have their domestic uses, we can be pretty handy at home.”
“That was awful, Nico would love it!” Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing and giggling as Nero climbed on the kitchen counter, armed with two pairs of shoes.
He wasn’t lying: his trigger could be very helpful when doing chores. That was how he always did whatever he needed to do around the house in half of the time: Nero literally had control over another set of hands to help.
As Nero used all his enhanced senses to find the mosquito and start hunting it with four relentless shoes, Kyrie watched him with what one would think it was too much admiration in her eyes for such a trivial thing. Even though it was mundane, it wasn’t trivial to her: nothing was trivial when it came to spending time with someone she loved, especially Nero.
When others would see a half-demon creature, Kyrie would see the human she loved so much. And not only that – they started dating when they were teens, yes, they grew up together and soon that young love matured over time – Kyrie didn’t see her boyfriend, but a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and who would be such a great husband and father.
Nero would deny if she ever told him that, of course. But Kyrie could see how he played with the children, how he scolded them in such a fatherly way when needed, how he always seemed to have so much patience even if he hid it under a short-tempered demeanor. Nero would make the best dad jokes, he would build the best pillow forts, he would stay awake into the night to care for his children when they would get sick… Kyrie could make a list of things Nero would certainly do as a father – and would excel at it.
“C’mon… Where did it… A-ha! Found it! No escape now!”
She was brought up from her thoughts as soon as Nero exclaimed those words, all four pieces of shoes ready to attack. The mosquito had nowhere to go: he threw one shoe, calculated the route the mosquito would fly over, and threw the other three in a row – faster than she could even think about it. The mosquito was caught in the second shoe, but, if that hadn’t happened, it would had found certain death in the other shoes.
“Job done, princess! Your nights will be peaceful and mosquito-less again!” Nero’s trigger hands disappeared as he bowed to Kyrie – who just laughed and applauded as he did so.
“Thank you so much, brave knight!” She had to joke around. Nero had this thing of calling her princess ever since they were teens – and he never knew how much her heart jumped inside of her chest every time he did that. To counter it and be able to hide how much she loved him in Fortuna, Kyrie would always call him something like that back as a joke, so the elders would think they were just playing. It sort of became their thing after a while – and she quite enjoyed it. “I think it’s my turn to repay you.”
“Eh, no need…” With a sigh, Nero sat by Kyrie’s side on the counter, legs dangling from it as well. He was a lot taller than her, but not even his feet couldn’t reach the floor from where they were sitting. “I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”
Looking at her, Nero allowed a caring smile to fill not only his lips but his eyes as well. While so many people saw only fire and rage, Kyrie had the privilege of seeing love and vulnerability inside that aquamarine sea.
Placing one of her hands on his cheek, Kyrie pulled Nero for a kiss – soft, long and calm. Nero was taken aback for a few seconds before melting into it, placing his hands on her hips and finding her soft skin. It seemed like a bolt of lightning went up their spines as Nero caressed her sides and ran his hand on her silky, slightly damp back.
“Oh, what were you saying about the bedroom before…?” Her question was a whisper as Kyrie parted the kiss – both of them blushing and vaguely breathless.
“Nothin’ that matters. The shelves can wait.” Nero dismissed it quickly, pulling her back to a kiss – both of them laughing between each other’s lips.
The house was a mess as they were cleaning everything: the kitchen and the bedroom seemed like they were torn apart, with clothes and shoes lying everywhere, books finding temporary solace somewhere else, and everything looking like it was turned upside down.
Spending time with each other, though, was a bigger priority. They would order some pizza and sleep on the couch under a light bedsheet so they wouldn’t get caught by surprise in case Nico decided to visit all of a sudden in the morning – but they wouldn’t pass the opportunity of loving each other.
As the night settled, they rested on the couch, Nero cradling Kyrie safely in his arms, as they talked the night away, always blushing from being so intimate with each other – that would never change, no matter how many years had gone by.
While watching Kyrie giggling from one of his stupid jokes, looking like an angel resting her head on his chest, Nero blushed even more while laughing alongside her and playing with her hair. He would always be a fool for her.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a glass of cold water for you?” Kyrie whispered into the night, the humming of the fan they found in the back of the garage making the weather a little bit more bearable. “You look like a tomato, dear.”
“Oh, it’s ok. It’s chillier now, my temperature will go down soon.” Nero smiled back at her, wondering how Kyrie could be so radiant. No supernatural creature could top that. “No need to worry, angel. Thank you.”
Obviously, he would never say he was blushing because of her - having only one thing in his mind… Thank whatever forces that be for that heatwave.
#devil may cry#dmc#devil may cry fanfiction#dmc fanfic#devil may cry imagine#dmc imagine#vergil sparda#dante sparda#nero sparda#dante x reader#vergil x reader#nero x kyrie#dmc kyrie#dmc nero#nerokiri#that's it that's the fic for today#melting in the heat#and killing mosquitoes with your loved ones#I don't condone climbing furniture as well#be careful people!!#and care for yourselves during heatwaves like that#it can literally be a killer#alsoooo I missed writing sugary nerokiri I LOVE THEM#and Vergil laughing for the FIRST TIME#and I don't even have anything else to say about Dante 'cause that man is amazing#but half of Dante/so and Nero/Kyrie relationship is 100% based on Rick and Evie from The Mummy#may the gods bless this family of himbos#(Verge is a himbo too but a different flavour of himbo I didn't forget him)
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A Day in the Life (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)
Summary: The days are never dull with a baby on board.
Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader
Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶
Word Count: ~3.2k
Warnings: Infants in very mild peril, cunnilingus, PiV sex
A/N: daddy buggy my beloved
---
4:41
Keeda’s fussing before the sun’s even up. And then you start fussing as soon as Keeda starts fussing.
“Your kid’s awake,” you grumble into his back.
Buggy has no choice but to fuss back. “Before dawn, he’s your kid.” You nudge him with your foot. He huffs. “I’m comfy, bitch. Get 'im yourself.”
You do not appreciate how comfortable he is. You knee his ass with each word -- not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “You. Are. A. Chop Chop man.”
...Yeah, alright, that's fair. Detaching his head and arms, he floats himself over to the crib.
Any other child would be concerned if their father’s disembodied head hovered above them, but Keeda’s never known any different. His grumbles turn to happy babbles, his chubby little face lighting up like the moon.
“Mornin’, ya li’l rugrat,” he says with a smile. “Starting on your bullshit early today, huh?”
He slips his hands under the boy’s arms and lifts him up and over to the bed. He's getting heavier, maybe about as much as a decent-sized cannonball. Makes sense, given his parents’ heights.
His parts rejoin the rest of him and he lays back down, placing the baby on his chest. He's still not too big for that, at least.
You roll over — more of an aggressive flop, really — and tuck yourself up under his arm. “Hey, bug.”
"Hi, dear," Buggy replies.
You rest your head on his shoulder as you lay your hand on your son's back, rubbing in small circles. Keeda lets out a happy coo, his little fingers curling as he reaches out to you.
You take his hand and stroke it with your thumb. "Back to sleep, sweet baby," you mumble, already halfway there. "Back to sleep..."
Buggy waits for your breathing to even out and for Keeda to go still before he lays his head against yours.
———
9:03
"Son of a bitch!"
Buggy watches as you pitch the jar of baby food and spoon over the deck railing. "First you wake me up, then you pee on me, and now you won't eat!” You jam your finger into Keeda's face. “Why are you being such a little fucker today?!"
The boy giggles, kicking his legs and smearing his breakfast around. He's got your laugh, but that little hater attitude couldn't have come from anybody but his father.
Buggy's just glad it's not his turn to feed him. "Food's supposed to go in his mouth, ya know."
You flip him off without even looking at him. Keeda waggles his fingers like he's trying to mimic you, but he doesn't quite have the motor control down yet.
“I'm gonna go get a new jar,” you grumble. “Make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust or some shit.”
You slink off without waiting for confirmation. Buggy's not worried. You'll cool off in no time. And he gets to watch your ass as you walk away.
He turns his full attention to Keeda. He picks the boy up into his arms. “You really wanna piss your mom off?” he asks. The boy babbles in what he decides is a yes. “Give her hair a yank. She spent all morning on it and it'll drive her nuts.”
He knows Keeda shouldn't be able to understand him, but there's a sparkle of recognition in those big dark eyes as he reaches a little hand out to touch the hair peeking out from under Buggy’s bandana.
He knows grabby fingers when he sees them. He angles his head away. This does not deter Keeda, but merely changes his target.
And now for the most confusing emotion he's ever had. There's the usual agitation that comes from someone noticing... it... but it's Keeda. He's never mocked it or thought it odd or asked questions. He just thinks his daddy's neat.
He can't help the slight smile as he lets Keeda touch his face.
———
9:50
Richie’s liked Keeda from day one. He’s always smelling him and headbutting him and gently pawing him. Mohji thinks it's because he's trying to scent-mark the kid.
“Should I do something?” Buggy asks quietly.
Mohji shrugs. “He's laughing, isn't he? Richie wouldn't hurt a fly.”
Keeda giggles as Richie presses his nose against his head, gently sniffing. Richie lets out a pleased chuffle as he rubs his whiskers along Keeda’s face.
Mohji crosses his arms. “He doesn't do that to me,” he mutters.
“I’ll dunk you in tuna oil, if you want,” Buggy says. “He'll be all over you.”
“I think I'll pass--” Disgust turns to horror as Mohji blanches. “Oh shit!”
Buggy whirls around. Richie has Keeda in his mouth. Completely in his mouth. Richie is a big lion and Keeda is a small baby.
Panic grips him. He's never actually had to fight a lion before, but it looks like that's what he's gonna have to do. You're gonna kill him anyways, so might as well go out in style--
Richie deposits Keeda at Buggy’s feet. The boy looks no worse for wear, if not a little confused and covered in kitty drool. The overgrown house cat looks very pleased with himself for taking a few years off of Buggy’s life.
Buggy glowers at Mohji. Mohji avoids eye contact and tries to shrink into his hoodie.
———
10:15
Well, after that, baby needs a bath. Fortunately, the giant soup pot in the galley is the perfect size for a little guy like Keeda.
Buggy hums an aimless tune as he rubs the shampoo into Keeda's hair. It's dark and thick like yours -- not to mention long. Kid’s hair grows faster than the rest of him.
He scoops up a fingerful of bubbles, then gently boops Keeda's little nose. The boy’s face scrunches up, and he goes cross-eyed as he grumbles.
An intrusive thought takes root. He chuckles to himself as he smooths Keeda's hair upwards. “Look, babe. Mohawk.”
“Keep the suds out of his eyes,” you warn from the doorway.
He rolls his eyes. “I'm not gonna let him drown, ya know. You don't have to hover.”
You smile that narrow little smile of yours. “I like watching my boys.”
Buggy's chest tightens. How can one expression, one quirk of your lips, one flash of teeth make his stomach backflip? His breath catch? His cheeks burn?
A splash of sudsy water rushes up to hit him in the face. Seems the kid’s discovered volume displacement. He regrets going with a full beat this morning. Between the splashed water and the heat in his cheeks, this makeup is gonna melt right off.
———
12:24
Dropping an ear in Keeda's crib while he napped was a brilliant idea. Amazing, even. Buggy can be off doing Hot Dad Shit but still come running at the first sign of trouble.
And then the baby found it and it became less of a good idea.
"C'mon, give it back." He reaches for the ear, but Keeda shifts just out of reach, clutching it to his chest. Given the boy's grip strength, he can't just yank it out of his hands without ripping cartilage.
Buggy hears Keeda's heartbeat thumping as he slumps against the edge of the crib. "What the hell could you possibly want with an ear?"
Keeda looks him dead in the eyes. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he brings the ear to his mouth.
Buggy has never moved faster in his life. He shoots his hand off and claps it over Keeda's mouth. You were right, he is being a little fucker today.
Keeda's muffled whines catch your attention, and you stick your head into the cabin. "Having trouble, Captain?" you ask with a smirk.
"Your son's being a dick."
The smirk grows into a smile. "He gets it from his father."
———
14:21
As Captain, sometimes one must spring into action and help secure a loose cannon threatening to smash the hull. For that reason, Buggy appreciates his crew’s tolerance of having a baby shoved into their arms at barely a moment’s notice. Alvida, especially. He’s never known her to like kids, let alone infants, but she seems to make an exception for little Keeda. Sometimes he thinks she makes up reasons just to hold him for a bit.
She's smiling a big, cheesy smile at him as he returns from his heroics. The kid gazes up at her with his enormous eyes, returning the grin. Alvida then sticks out her tongue. Keeda does the same. She blows a raspberry, and Keeda giggles.
“Having fun with Auntie ‘Vida?” he asks.
“Time of his life.” She makes an angry face. Keeda's mouth screws up into a grumpy frown. “It's crazy how much he looks like you. Especially considering he doesn't have your--”
Her mouth shuts so hard and so suddenly that her teeth click.
Buggy keeps his voice low and even. “Doesn't have my what?”
Alvida blinks. “Hair. I was gonna say hair.”
...you know what? Acceptable.
“Eh, I'm just glad he's got ten fingers and ten toes.” He ignores the relief on her face as he takes his boy back. “His mom’s prettier anyways.”
———
15:46
You don't need a detached ear to know when your son is crying. Somehow, you know. You can be down in the bilge and you'll hear his whining from the top deck.
"What's going on?" you ask as you come up on deck.
Buggy watches as Keeda flops over onto his belly, thrashing his limbs and wailing. "He's mad because I won't load him into the cannon."
Keeda pauses in his fit as sees you, then lets out a bwuuuuuuuh and continues. He looks very much like a fresh fish as he flails around.
You watch him for a moment, then look at Buggy. A silly little glint sparkles in your eyes, the one that you have when you get a bad idea. The same one he saw during that first kiss you shared together.
“He would fit in a Buggy Ball shell,” he says.
You stare at him a moment longer, then shake your head. “We shouldn't.” Keeda lets out a wail that makes you flinch. “But we could.”
After a few moments, the boy runs out of steam, lying there like a dead bird on a beach and whimpering pathetically.
Buggy scoops him into his arms and brushes the tears away. "Can't load ya up, li'l man, but wanna see it go..." He pops his hands off and splays his fingers in front of Keeda's face, popping them apart at the knuckles. "...ka-boom?"
Keeda's agitation melts away like an ice cube in Hell, replaced with wide-eyed wonder. You take him and sit on a crate, covering his ears. You give Buggy a nod.
He grins. He points at a pair of idling crewmen -- the artillery boys, fortunately. "Ready piece!" he barks. “And make it snappy! My kid’s in the audience!”
Buggy appreciates how they trip over themselves rushing to the cannon. He really is lucky that his crew likes his kid half as much as he does. Even if they “kidnap” him sometimes and hide him in the crew quarters to dote on him and to stress his parents out.
In moments, the Buggy Ball is loaded, the powder set, and the artillerymen stand at attention, waiting to light the fuse.
He holds his fist up. "Aim!"
The cannon is already in place, but he pauses for dramatic effect. A quick glance at Keeda's wide eyes and your little smile confirms it's working.
He gives you both a little wink "Fire!"
With a bang and a whistle, the shell flies up into the air. A safe distance away, it explodes into a shower of smoky crimson streaks.
They reflect nicely in your smiling eyes as Keeda squeals in delight.
———
19:02
Buggy sticks his tongue out. "Blah."
Keeda sticks his tongue out. "Blelck."
He puffs his cheeks out. Keeda puffs his cheeks out. He puckers his lips. Keeda puckers his lips.
He opens his mouth. "Ah."
Keeda opens his mouth as wide as he can, showing off his little pink gums. "Ah!"
Buggy jams the spoon in there before Keeda can even react. Blinking in surprise, he swallows, even licking some stray banana mush from his lips.
You watch, slumped across the table with your chin in your hand. "How are you so good at that?"
"Clown to clown communication. Sounds like this." He puts the spoon down and, squishing Keeda's cheeks, affects a croaky voice. "’Feed me. Feed meeee.’"
Your laugh your lovely seagull laugh and his heart flutters like a hummingbird.
———
20:50
“Don’t wake him up,” you warn as you open the door to the main cabin.
"I know, I know." He separates himself at the waist. “Floating, see? Shock absorber.”
Keeda snuffles and twitches. You both freeze, praying that he doesn’t wake up. He does not, and you relax.
You side eye him as he crosses the room, not letting up until he lays the boy down into the crib. You slip Mr Toucan in next to Keeda and pull the blanket up around him.
"Sweet dreams, li’l bug," you say.
"I'm not going to bed yet." You glower at him and he grins. That's never going to get old.
You tiptoe out with him close behind. He leaves his ear on the table, just in case.
The door clicks shut, and you both let out your held breaths. You hold your fist out and he knocks his knuckles against yours.
“Good job this time, Dad,” you say.
“I can be subtle when I want to be.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders. "Y’know, I was thinking..."
The breeze tousles your glossy hair so artfully. "Was wondering where the smoke was coming from."
He pulls you in closer, his hand wandering to the top of your thigh. You've been bitching about baby weight, but to him? You've never looked better. "Was thinking... Wanna make another?"
You give him a smirk that makes his cock twitch. You cross your muscular arms and it turns into a pulse. "Weird way to ask to go bareback."
"No, I mean it,” he says. "He looks like you and I want one that looks like me. Balance it out."
You breathe in sharply. The mischief in your eyes fades, replaced with thoughtfulness. You duck out from under his arm to saunter away. “Sell me on it.”
He follows. “What's cuter than one Keeda? Two Keedas,” he says. “Especially if it's a girl. Built-in double act. And I've got the perfect name for a girl.”
“Yeah?”
He gives you a big stupid grin. “Buggetta.”
You stare at him a moment, then crack a smile and make that glorious, glorious snnnrk noise. “Absolutely not.”
“To the name or to another kid? Because I'm fine with Buggy Junior if it's a boy--”
“Over my dead body we name a kid that.”
"Alright. Fine." He grabs your hips and pushes you against the deck railing. "Guess I'll just fuck you 'til you're knocked up again anyways and we can improvise."
You suck in a breath. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips. He goes in for a kiss, but you duck beneath his arms.
“Catch me and you can do whatever you want with me,” you say before taking off.
He sprints after you.
———
21:24
He wanted to be romantic. He wanted to be cool and suave and sweet for you. You, light of his life and his hard-won prize. You, his partner in crime and mother of his child. You deserve nothing less than the sultriest, slowest, languidest of lovemaking, full of sweet nothings whispered breathlessly into your thighs.
Unfortunately, just looking at you makes his cock leak and if he doesn't strip you down and fill you up as soon as possible, he's gonna make a mess of his last clean pair of underwear.
So that's how you ended up pinned between him and a crate in the cargo hold, moaning like a bitch in heat as he ruts into you. He's lucky you like it like that.
“Harder!” you spit.
He grunts into your shoulder as he snaps his hips. His tongue is busy taste-testing that sweet sweet clit of yours.
You let out a long, guttural groan. “Less talking, more -- ah, ff--!”
He must have hit something nice, because your back arches and your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing it tight and making him damn near black out.
He hates this stupid condom. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Hates how he can't feel your warmth, your slick, your soft, satin walls as they clench. Hates how he can't fill you up with his cum, painting those lovely walls a pearly, sticky white. Hates how he can't fuck another baby into you.
...unless. Unless he's lucky and it breaks. Or if it's just a piece of cheap shit not worth the paper box it came out of.
Oh yes. Oh, then he'd be lucky. Then he'd get what he wants. He'd get you pregnant. Again. You’d be all soft around the edges and glowing like a full, terracotta moon with hair as glossy as a fresh tube of lipstick.
His hips stutter. Yes yes yes yes yes--!
He grips your hips tight as he thrusts into you, not stopping until his balls are drained and his cock is limp. He flops against you, burying his face in your minty, citrusy, cinnamon-y hair.
“I love you,” he mumbles.
He can hear the smile in your voice. “Love you too, Bugs.”
———
00:57
Sad little whimpers in his ear distract him from his carousing with the crew. You're significantly more fucked up than he is and on round eight of a three-round game of cards, so he slips away without disturbing you.
Keeda is sleeping when he enters his cabin, but the little twitches and whimpers suggest it’s not a restful one.
He tickles the bottom of his foot -- his teeny tiny little foot -- and the boy wakes with a start. He starts to cry, only to falter as he sees his father, his lip quivering and his eyes watering.
Buggy scoops the boy into his arms. “Shh,” he says. “Daddy's here. Don't worry.”
He strokes his fingers through the boy’s hair. Keeda coos like a dove, trying to burrow his face into his chest. Failing in that endeavor, he peers up at Buggy with those enormous eyes.
Somewhere, deep in his heart, Buggy knows that all the treasure in the world couldn't match the feeling of holding his son in his arms. And that all the praise and all the applause would be nothing compared to the way you smile at him like you have a secret to keep.
But why settle for just two people when he could have the adoration of them all?
He sits down on the bed, propped up against the headboard, cradling the boy close. “You're gonna be a prince someday,” he whispers. “A little pirate prince. Daddy’s gonna be king and they’re gonna love you as much as him.”
Keeda exhales heavily, letting out a soft peep as he goes limp. His eyes drift closed.
Buggy is suddenly very aware of how tired he is. He lays back into the pillows. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep...”
---
To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar
#buggy the clown#buggy x reader#buggy x you#buggy the clown x reader#kiss marry kill#one piece x reader#one piece#one piece live action#fan fiction#one piece fanfiction#reader insert#x reader#emberly writes#smash or pass#the curious courtship of buggy the clown#dad buggy
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SHOW YOU WHY — EVAN “BUCK” BUCKLEY x READER x 118: [Spring Prompts]
A/N: I’m excited to see what the rest of season 7 brings us! This piece can fit for both Buck (since there’s some hints of a crush between reader + Buck—if you squint!) and the rest of the 118. I’m just thrilled to see them all back on screen so I wanted to include everyone in this.
WARNINGS: gave the gender-neutral reader some background & mentions of a tough upbringing + use of curse words!!!
PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: 3. “Welcome to ~allergies~” + 20. “IT’S SPRINGTIME MUTHA-FUCKERS.”
<- read my previous flop of a spring prompt here.
𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼
Anywhere but here you wanted to be.
You could have gotten out of this too, just like the mayor’s ball back in December but you personally didn’t want to receive an ear-full of a voicemail from your aunt yet again. So you dealt with it (being here on time-except you actually weren’t in your aunt’s eyes) putting in the work to also give “orders” rather than instructions to the workers while she had other hired workers tend to her full attire.
She won a honorary award just last month so she planned on parading that around her birthday party. It wasn’t the smartest move having it right at the entry way of the home, sitting on the center piece of a circular oak table that her great-grandfather built, with party goers but since the spring weather decided to stick in California, your aunt was more than willing to have this gathering out back but not without having most of her guests walk through the front doors first.
The main reason to have this party was for the attendees to constantly compliment the view of the vineyard out back. You already knew your aunt’s (by marriage) game, having the honor of being raised by her from the time you were thirteen. You just wished you could close your eyes, squeeze them really tight to the point that they hurt, and this would be over.
Thankfully an hour into the party, your uncle shows up, rushing in from his work trip out in Finland—don’t ask—brushing his lips against your hairline and giving you a tight side hug before he’s whisked off by his high energy wife of twenty years. That gave you enough time to sneak away from the boring and prying conversations, the set up of trying to date one of the attendees, and hide for a little bit before your cover was blown and you were thrown back into the party of socializing.
Another forty-five minutes pass and you’re getting a text that has you jumping to your feet, swaying a bit before you excuse yourself back into the mediterranean home to greet the guests you’ve been waiting for.
Yanking the door open you yell, “IT’s SPRING TIME MUTHA-FUCKERS! Welcome to my family’s place and I’m so glad you guys could make it.”
Chimney smirks around the chewing of his gum, “can’t say I’ve been greeted like that ever but I’m not complaining! as long as I get to have whatever it is you’ve had.”
You tilt your head to the side at the spikey haired man, “Chim! How many times do I have to tell ya? I’m not a drinker…I’m just spreading all things…spring?”
“I can tell with that outfit.”
A elbow goes to his gut from Maddie while Hen scoffs with a shake of her head at her best friend, who’s now rubbing his torso.
You’re waving the group all in, hugging Athena as she says, “your family has a mighty big house.”
“Yeah, I was just about to say what did they do again?” Eddie is next in embracing you after almost doing a full spin in the entry way, staring up at the high ceilings.
Buck is last to pull you into a hug, lightly rocking you both from side to side while you hold his back, “Can’t believe you grew up here.”
You shrug, “It’s just a house of an Architect and a mayor.”
“You must have had crazy parties here,” Buck is grinning wildly while Eddie is rolling his eyes at him.
“Of course Evan would be the one to think about the parties,” Maddie stares over at her younger brother who’s shameless about his daydreams of what that may have looked like.
You lifted your shoulders, “anyways! Make yourselves comfy but stay away from the Rueger’s—they’re swingers and may try to encourage you into joining their underground society club. A good portion of the people here are uppity but there’s a sprinkle of good ones that you won’t want to kick up the ass.”
“Oh! Say no more, I know exactly who I’m talking to.” Athena shoots a look to Bobby who’s pleading with his eyes to his wife, to just enjoy the party and not interrogate but Athena wouldn’t be Athena if she didn’t go investigate.
Bobby squeezes your shoulder on his way by but keeps his eyes on Athena’s retreating form, “Its good to see you and thanks for the invitation. I’m going to do my best and make sure things don’t erupt into chaos.”
You nod your head, expecting this but let out a sigh although there’s a smile on your lips. Hen takes a step closer to you as you’re now humming, swaying your hands about as if they were floating on water. “Uh, you sure you’re alright? You seem…a little off?”
“What do you mean?” You question, hands moving to float above Hen’s shoulders, almost as if you’re not aware you’re doing this.
This gains the other’s attention as the low haired woman peeks from left to right while you’re making a wave with your hands. “Stop that and hold still.”
“Why? The air never does.”
Which earns a chuckle from Chimney while Hen grips your shoulders, scanning your face and finally focuses on the end of your brow to the lid of your eye.
“Hen, what’s up?” Buck quizzes, eyes steady on you two.
Hen shushes him while she keeps her eyes on you, “how many fingers am I holding up?”
You blink then smile, “two caterpillars,” you speak so matter of factly, ready to spin away from the conversation but Hen is pulling you back by the shoulders.
“Hen—
Chimney tries this time and Maddie is furrowing her brows also confused.
“I think they’re having an allergic reaction.” Hen concludes before directing the rest of her words to you, “your eye area is swelling up and if you didn’t take anything, I’d say you’re also a little disoriented? Maybe even experiencing some brain fog?”
You shrug, “must have been the sea bass or was it trout? that Eitan guy tried to share with me. Whatever, let’s have some fun now that my friends are here.”
You’re dancing now, although it feels like your brain is spinning in slow-motion, yet the outside music is pretty faint.
Buck has his eyes in slits, “who the hell is Eitan?”
“And why was he feeding you?” Eddie added, he didn’t hear any updates about your dating life either and he was sure if it was true, Buck would have been the first to tell him instead.
Maddie stares at the two ridiculous men, “they didn’t say the guy was feeding them.”
Chimney leans towards Hen as her face still holds concern, fingertips lightly pressing on the lymph nodes in your neck which you laugh at the sensation, “Want me to search the house to see what I can find? You don’t think they’re going to stop breathing any time soon do you?”
The way Buck and Eddie snap their attention to the dark haired man’s words; burning their eyes into his frame, makes Chimney realize that it doesn’t hurt to turn down his bluntness some but Hen thinks nothing of it.
“How!” Maddie hisses his name from behind, while Chim holds his hands up to show he has no ill-intent, you were his friend too.
Hen starts, “I don’t think they consumed enough to get to that point but—
“Hey, aren’t you allergic to all things seafood anyway? Why would that jackass give that to you?” Buck interrupts with a cross of his arms, becoming irritated.
Eddie also states, “and why would your tío and tía have that here? Surely they know your health history.”
Maddie also can’t help but to ask in a much more compassionate approach, “How exactly did this happen?”
“I got caught up in the love story Eitan’s ninety year old grandmother was telling me on the right about the love letters she received from her husband in the navy. Eitan’s calling my name from the left to try this and next thing I know, I’m eating fish.” You notify, hoping that answered this test.
Buck scrunches up his nose, “who does this guy think he is? Just spoon feeding you without even knowing your likes, dislikes, and what you can’t have!”
Eddie asserts in agreement as Buck begins to pace now, “I’m sorry but your relatives screwed up.”
“The Tramp too.” Chimney jokes.
You tilt your head to the side while Hen glares and Maddie raises her eyebrows, wanting the man to expand on that.
“Hello! Lady and the tramp anyone? This Eitan guy is obviously the tramp—not your aunt.” Chimney sheepishly smiles, “whew, tough crowd!”
Hen is back to massaging your neck in search of any inflammation while you rant, “Well as auntie Katrina says: you can’t please everyone and sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get to the top. She probably just forgot with all the things on her mind? she was the main one trying to push a love connection between Eitan and I. Also you guys should have seen her earlier. She was all over the place and had to have me take over.” You pull away, coughing into your sleeve, struggling a bit to clear your throat.
The five glance at each other.
You were part of the 118, first somewhat reserved and a little shy rather than closed off but similar to Bobby in a sense when you first joined. It took time to get you to open up, even to Buck who was friendly with everyone. You transferred to the station six months after Buck so he had no issue taking you underneath his wing even if you were complete opposites. It was safe to say that majority of the crew didn’t care for your aunt, simply from the way she spoke to you, and hearing how you tried to sweep the way she treated you growing up away. It was evident verbal abuse but you felt like you owed her something since she stepped in as a mother figure to raise you after the tragedy of losing your own mother.
Part of you knew you shouldn’t feel guilty and that she was the adult who married your biological uncle who was always away—working and that it should have been a given. However when people make you feel like they’re doing you a favor instead of simply caring about you, you just may start to question everything.
Unfortunately, you were the second guesser because of that but not when it came to the field. You became a different person out on the job, quickly thinking and analyzing everything before sprinting into action and that was something the 118 admired.
Maddie and Eddie both share a nod before she speaks, “okay…Eddie and I are going to have a chat with this Eitan guy.”
Buck approved of that although he wouldn’t have minded having a word with Eitan himself, especially if they were all thinking the same thing. Once his eyes flicked back to you after the pair left the room, he noticed the change in your skin gradually and that didn’t sit well with him. So yeah, maybe it was best he stayed behind.
Hen asks you, “Do you have your EpiPen?”
You’re zoning out a bit, eyes disconnecting some but you’re nodding your head as if you’re listening.
So Hen took that as a negative.
“Chim, check the bathrooms for Prednisone or any type of corticosteroid? Even Peppermint oil. If not, try the kitchen for pineapple or even ice just in case.” Hen informs while Chim dips his head before heading off.
Hen smiles as she gently guides you to the stairs which are to the right of the front door, “here, let’s have you sit.”
“But I want to dance!”
“We can do that later,” Buck expresses while following you two, “we just want to make sure you’re okay first and that there’s no funny business going on here.”
Pressing your cheek into your balled up fist you say, “fine…I’ll tell you guys what going on. I’ll come clean.”
Hen and Buck meet each other’s eyes before they peer down at you. Sitting up straight, you exhale and begin to flap your arms like wings, “welcome to…allergies.”
Buck honestly found this a little cute although he didn’t appreciate the increase in size of your brow and eye now but at least you were in good spirits. Even if it seemed like the rest of the 118 were speculating something much more than a simple case of allergies.
“I’m going to move things further along and find the kitchen. Buck, Call out to me if anything changes.” Hen decides before making her exit.
He calls out to her, “You got it.” Then he’s turning back to stand in front of you while you beam up at him, “what’s going on in that field full of daisies of a mind of yours?”
“It’s actually Lillie’s but,” you clear the scratch of your throat again, “I don’t know, I felt kinda anxious being back here but knew I would be okay once you were the first to agree on showing up.”
Buck furrows his brow at the last bit of the sentence, “did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Well…you’ve been busy with Natalia.” You’re blinking your inflamed eye to see if it was tingly or sticky, “Didn’t want to intrude on your quality time.”
“You wouldn’t be, you’re actually one of my best friends and it’s always cool for us to hang out whenever,” Buck replies, “by the way that relationship is over with…and you’ve got that same look on your face as Eddie.”
You actually imagined yourself to look like that one Ryan Gosling gif but only because you were the last to know.
You breathe out a laugh afterwards, “Sheesh! I’m not going to say finally or I told you so because she was super pretty and helped you pick out a couch which was nice and…are you okay?”
Buck chuckles at your mind still wandering all over the place in conversations, “the couch and I are just fine! Thanks for asking.”
You hum, resting your head against the wall.
“So what’s this Eitan guy like?” Buck suddenly probes.
You blink, “think: tall dark and handsome.”
Buck blurts out with a furrow of his brows, “Sasquatch?”
“…if that’s what you’re into.” Laughter bubbles in your voice at the expression on Buck’s face now.
He holds his hands out, “I’m not even going to entertain that.”
“Aw but it’ll be fun.”
Buck plops down beside you, almost taking up a good portion of the uncomfortable steps. He brushes his shoulder against yours and you meet each other’s gaze.
“I’ve missed you, you know?”
Those words right there almost wiped all weird feelings you were having before and after you ate that food. You were never one to think that anyone noticed if you were around or not so hearing Buck say this to you, made you feel warm inside—better even. Somewhat.
“You taking off for a while made sense,” Buck starts with an exhale, “but I didn’t think that time away included spending it with your aunt Kat.”
Buck didn’t hide his dislike of the older woman but out of the respect he had for you, he kept his feelings to himself yet that didn’t mean he didn’t go off about her to Eddie or Maddie when she clearly upset you.
“…Majority of it didn’t.” You answer.
“Where did you go?”
You pointed as if you were mapping it out in the air, “Chicago, then Texas, and back here.”
“…Do I need to know how that was?” he’s pressing his elbows into his knees, getting comfortable right beside you.
He’s told you all about his adventures across the globe, mostly unwarranted but you didn’t mind. You had a sheltered life while your aunt and uncle went all over to see the world thanks to their professions, so you didn’t get out much until you decided to head to the first state you had the deepest connection to. Where your late mother and uncle were born and raised and ultimately where your mother’s life ended.
“All you need to know is that it brought me back home, to the rest of you.”
“Can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.”
You loop an arm with Buck’s and rest your head on his shoulder, “look at us sitting here being nice to each other with our matching marks.”
“I’m always nice and I think mine is cooler.” He says referring to his own strawberry birthmark.
You nuzzle your face against his navy sweater, “You stating your claim on yours being better really defeats the purpose of you being nice.”
“Well, I mean no harm buuut yours is temporary and reminds me of hippo skin.” He’s leaning away, eyes lowered to get a good look at your face up close.
“…Now I see why you and Natalia broke up.”
If chimney was back, you were sure he’d give you some points for roasting Buck back.
“Ouch.” Buck laughs, resting his cheek against your head.
You echo his laugh, “sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can take a joke and Isn’t this season supposed to be about new beginnings or growth or whatever?” Buck was always interested to see the layers of you.
You gasp, “I thought it was the season of allergies.”
Evan hums, “Is that the story you’re sticking with?”
Before you could reply to that Eddie cuts in, “the story actually checks out…you did in fact ingest some sea bass from the nerdy but surprising good looking Eitan. The fish was a little on the salty side so I see why you only had a small piece.”
“A small piece that was enough to have their face looking like hippo skin!” Buck held his hand out underneath your chin to showcase.
Eddie scrunched up his face after taking a look at yours while you slapped the dark blond on his chest, “why would you choose to compare their allergic reaction to that of all things?”
“Why would you give your critiques of a dish you probably don’t even know how to cook?” Buck fired back.
Before they started to bicker, Maddie claps her hands to silence the two men-children and then turns to you with a soft smile, “Eitan also wanted to come over here and apologize but I told him it would best to just wait it out for awhile.”
“Thanks Maddie.” You smile back at the brunette, preferring to be around your friends instead.
“That’s the smartest thing he’s done today.” Buck huffs while Maddie sends him a warning look, to basically knock it off.
Eventually Hen and Chim make their way back but only Hen has items in her hands.
Chim holds his hands out as he exasperates, “you would think people who have a house filled with eight bathrooms would have basic medicine in their cabinets…it’s odd that the only thing I could find was Omeprazole. And Not even a damn Advil!”
“Okay let’s not turn this into the ID channel guys, I’m alive and well—
“Well…” almost everyone chorus’ in making you equally send them an incredulous look.
Hen is the one to not have chimed in but chooses to squats in front of you, “Eat this and keep this pressed to your face for at least five to seven minutes.”
“Thank you, Hen.”
“No problem,” she smiles before standing up and looking at the rest, “now go mingle everyone instead of being up in their face, I’m sure they’ll be in good hands with Buck—maybe.”
“Hey!”
Hen winks at him before she walks off with Maddie and Chimney who starts talking about the appetizers he noticed by the patio door.
“Marisol’s calling,” Eddie looks down at his phone, “I trust that I can leave two alone for a few minutes.”
Buck shrugs nonchalantly, “That depends—
“Of course you can.” You side eye the man beside you underneath the ice pack.
Eddie snickers before disappearing behind the sliding doors to a room across from the stairs.
Buck’s breathing beside you makes you more calm until he deeply exhales, clearing his throat while you chew on a pineapple as he turns his body to you.
“So why come back?” His island water eyes holds your stare, lightly pushing since you still had time to get the inflammation to go down.
So what better way to wait it out by talking?
Swallowing the fruit you boldly respond, “you would think I took a year off instead of two weeks but…I’d miss you too much. Is that a good enough answer for you Buckley?”
Evan grins as he bumps his shoulder with yours again, “yeah it is! I just wanted to hear you say it.”
You noticed the change of tone in his voice beside you and fought the urge to shudder at it. So you scoff and push yourself off the steps, plate of pineapple long forgotten as you balanced yourself upright while Buck’s got his hands out to catch you if you fall.
The feeling was always mutual, lifting each other up and going through the motions together as a team.
“Since you’re so full of yourself, let’s battle it out on the dance floor.”
Buck frowns as he glances down at his wrist, “I think you still have another three minutes and thirty-nine seconds left to go…and they’re playing jazz.”
“What’s wrong with that? Would you rather hear The White Stripes or Backstreet Boys…I could make a request if you like?” You teased while Buck pushes himself to his feet.
He blows out a breath, “I tell you one time that Maddie and I had a jam session to that boy band on my sixteenth birthday road-trip to cheer me up and you won’t let it go.”
“I’m not shaming you.” You raise a hand in surrender, “I’m no hater and the band had hits. I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, what you did, as long as you love me—it’s all good.”
Buck rolls his head around, “you’re so clever and you don’t have to worry about that so! Let’s just start off with you finishing the rest of those pineapples and I’ll try one of those appetizers before you show me some moves but I don’t think they have anything on mine.”
“Please! I’ll be very shocked to see you do more than a two-step since you also hate karaoke.”
“I don’t hate it.” Buck picks up the plate for you, “I just prefer not to see my sister and Chimney eat their microphones singing while staring into each others eyes.”
“They’re in love Buck, leave them alone!”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy they found each other. I am their number one fan but that’s still my sister and I don’t need to see more than needed on their love life.” He shudders.
You hook your arm with Buck’s as you begin to walk through the home towards the kitchen, “yeah I guess I get that, yet there’s something so special about seeing people in love! It always shows me why there’s still the urge to keep going, just like us running into fires. Not to just simply put it out but to have a sense of unity when that’s not always common.”
Buck is intently listening and whole heartedly agrees as the both of you settle into the kitchen. He enjoys having conversations with you and you enjoy keeping him company, although he came all this way for you.
Showing up for each other was never foreign but it was times like these, swollen eyed and slightly loopy while the game of politics were being played out in the vineyard, wide grins and random conversations were held inside between the two of you—later joined by the rest of the team—showed that you were surrounded by exactly who you needed to be with.
𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼
Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.
#911 abc#evan buckley#evan buck buckley#911 x reader#911 s7#911 season 7#howard chimney han#howard han#chimney han#maddie buckley#maddie han#athena nash#athena grant#athena grant nash#eddie diaz#bobby nash#henrietta wilson#spring prompts#queued
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Don't Hide Pt 2
Paul x reader
"Look I just really don't know what to do with that, and what he said made it sound like he's a local or at least frequents the place." You sip your drink before flopping down on the bed, still clutching the phone and listening to you sister and her endless knowledge of the dating scene.
"With what you said it sounds like he was interested in you. All those girls but still he stopped at you." A pause. "I mean he did say he hadn't seen you around so there's always that 'new shiny toy' factor, but!!" Your mind was racing. New shiny toy? I hadn't even thought about that! I was just to panicked that I actually flirted with someone somewhat successfully and they initiated it! "You could've caught his attention, you said he was pretty cute right?" Sounds of chips crunching on the other end interrupted your response of 'yeah'
"So if you see him again, and if you want to, try and flirt with him again. See if he's interested. Anything else happen that wasn't on the carousel?" More crunching. Your finger was now curling and uncurling in the cord as you remember something at the end. "I guess? Maybe? After I left I looked back and he was with his friends but he was already looking at me but I might have done something before that, it's a little embarrassing..." "Go on!" The pleading demand coming out muffled through a mouth that was undoubtedly full of chips.
"Before I told him not to hide, I kinda took his lollipop out of his mouth and after I sorta put it in mine in front of him?" The end of your retelling came out sounding more like a question and you could the sound of your sister inhaling and promptly choking on her chips. You didn't mean to kill her really. You grimace, "Sorry-" "Sorry? Why didn't you tell me this! Oh, you bold fucker! You definitely had to have hooked him a bit! If he doesn't come up to you he's fucking numb or shy from what you did. Please God or whomever the fuck let my sibling finally get someone or some action at least."
"Oh my frog-"
"No child you listen–"
"I'm older tha-"
"-you need to try to make a small a miniscule effort to talk to this guy. I'm talking at least eye contact, a smile, a wave, head tilt, whatever! Just something. Even a sign to him. You do this and it's a mile stone. You do this and you could do it again and build up to something more. Remember it's the anticipation of what hasn't happened that's scary."
"So I do this and I can do anything? That's mighty cheesy"
"I didn't say that. But you could build up to more. It certainly gets a little easier once you've done it. It was hard for me at first as well, but I had the advantage of semi-popularity and friends that would cheer me on and and we could laugh about it later. I know it's a little harder for you but remember you got yourself a personal cheerleader a phone call away."
Laying on your side playing with the cord, a fond smile grew on your face.
"Thanks sis, I really appreciate this. I probably would've been spiraling out of my head without you by now."
"That's what I'm here for! I've got to go, but hey! You get ready and go out! FIND THAT MAN! Give a little smile and a wave, maybe a wink~."
"Ughaagh!"
"I love you, bye!"
"Bye, love you."
You put the phone back up and laid there for minute just looking at the wall not really seeing it, not even thinking. Then, your brain decided to start working on double time. If I do this would it actually go well? Would it go bad? He stayed looking yesterday. What does that even mean? Did you make a big mistake even looking at him? Did you do the stupidest thing in history by taking his candy? AND PUTTING IT IN YOUR MOUTH!? OH YOU DUMB FROGGER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! Maybe you should try? Maybe not, "no" or go "away" is NOT the worst he could say.
Okay could it be that bad? He probably forgot about you, okay?
But the prospect of maybe having a someone made your heart feel like a ton of moths decided that it was their new home. You had always seen those couples on campus, one leaning on cars or walls wile the other leaned over them, making the other flustered or both laughing. Just thinking about maybe having a chance at that, having someone to fluster you or the other way around. Holding someone's hands because you could, holding them because you could, holding their face because–well.
This gave you a sense of anxious determination. With a hint of spite. You could never have something like that before, even when you tried. People were cruel, they hurt you, bones and shiny things couldn't hurt you. Maybe you would go, and maybe you would, if you saw him, smile and wave. This wasn't the campus or highschool, hell it's definitely not home. If you need to ignore him, you could. Why not?
—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—
So, you're here, and have been for about an hour before the sun finally started going down. This wouldn't be an issue at all except you've had an eye out for that pretty hurricane of blonde hair from the night before, and the anticipation of seeing them again slowly frying your nerves.
You stroll along some small stores, the chains on your boots and hip clinking as you walk. Eyes catching a shop advertising they sell 'Assortments for the damned', immediately interested you walk closer and open the glass door covered with a thick curtain.
Immediately you can see small weapons, jewelry, and crystals on a display case. Walking around there's discovered to be books on witchcraft, Satanism, the supernatural, apothecary, rituals, and beginners manuals. In the back left corner there's a display of sex toys and lingerie which is out numbered by the amount of fetish wear and toys for those obviously into more hard-core stuff that's right by it. There a section of actually weapons; swords, axes, hatchets, maces, flails, etc. Many intricately made or decorated with stones. Along side it was gardening supplies along with gas masks. Sections of fabric took up half a wall along with dried plants, pastes, and animal parts.
It felt like a play ground honestly. Maybe you would need to work on more crafts to sell, because you just might end up broke before you have to go back. But was it really your fault? You hadn't seen most of this stuff anywhere else and it was like putting live prey with a starving animal and asking it to wait a while more– cruel, tempting, and plain fucking stupid.
By the time you made it up to the front desk someone came stumbling out from behind a beaded curtain behind it. "Oh- Hi! Sorry it took a bit. Looking for anything in particular? Find anything you like?" Their short curly hair looked as if it's been through a storm and silver bangles clink on their hands. You find a name tag on their long apron which reads 'Andy–they/them'.
"I practically love everything here, I just might go broke if I can't find clients." They chuckle and push their glasses up their nose looking thoughtful. "Well it's great to hear you're enjoying the shop and as well as the clientele part, depending on what you sell we might be able to help with that. My boss tends to house and sell many locals wears for them here, only taking a small amount, on agreement of course, for the pay of the worker who helped sell it. I can give you a card if you'd like?"
You were struck dumb for a second almost refusing to believe your luck. This store, this store, could possibly house your crafts and you might actually be able to one–extend your stay and continue to hide from your parents and two–by something shiny when you wanted. You were baffled not stupid, also you were quiet and they were still looking at you. "Um, yes, oh frog. I definitely would like one, thank you!" Were you getting to loud, maybe a tad, but they giggled and put their finger up as they crouched down behind the counter.
"Give me just a moment. We don't keep my boss's cards up top for the taking so they tend to get pushed around." You left them to it and looked around the front counter, smaller concelable weapons made to look like other objects and just straight up decorated to look as pretty as they are painful make up a good amount of the displays. Andy popped back up holding a card like it was a prize ribbon as you were checking out what looked to be modified brass nuckles with jagged ends in shapes of animals, one even a Christmas tree.
"Here's her card, it has her number and mailing address, but please do call to set something up first. Oh, do you like those? We just got a new shipment in this morning! If you give me just a minute I can go get them right now!" They scurried through the curtain and back in less than a minute and set a medium box on the counter. After taking out a box cutter, they opened it and started taking out thin foam layers separating the metal peices and laying them out.
"Now these ones are our self defense keychains, they have holes for you to slip your fingers in similar to regular brass knuckles but with a nice sharp, cute twist." You scanned over the items feeling like a little kid all over again. Honestly, you didn't know what to do when she disappeared behind the curtain in search of the shipment, so in a mixed state of confusion and curious, you stated put. Oh are you glad you did. There were so many, moths, presents, birds, cats, hats. One that really caught your eye was the teeth.
That not even the right word, right one would be fangs. The finger holes were in the gums and part of the other teeth in between the the sharpened teeth. There were blood marks on them as well, leading to believe what ever they're supposed to belong to fed on something with fresh blood. You had to have it. "Oh now this is extremely beautiful!" You said holding it up. "It is, and it definitely fits your little bat necklace. It's cute." The bat necklace in reference was the one from the night before. "We have other hidden weapons here too if you like to see." A very quick nod. "We have these necklaces over here that look like little hearts with daggers in them, which," Andy takes hold of one and pulls the blade out."They are. Then for wrists we have bands with daggers in intricate sheaths. They could look like decorations until you actual pull them out."
Shiny, sharp, and pretty! Your mind was probably breaking a sound barrier somewhere with how high pitched that came out in your own
In the end you walked out with the fang keychain, a pair of arm bands, AND the necklace. Gosh you're asucker for shiny and sharp. You can't even blame Andy for your lack of self control, they were a great help and, really, were just doing their job.
You fidget with the card in your hand a bit before finaly putting it in your bag.
Passing by a food stand you see a container of bright candy in clear wrapping, lollipops, your brains supplies oh not so very helpfully. Did you decide you were gonna try? Yes, yes you did. Does that mean you're actually going to try and think about him the whole time when he already keeps constantly popping up and you have to constantly keep replaying the stunt you pulled. No, no you're not. And does this mean that because he keeps popping up in your head and making you feel more anxious and stupid by the second that in the end you might end up making a fool, tucking tail, and hauling ass? Uhhh-
You were staring. The attendant was speaking. You hadn't even revised you had stopped. "I-I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
"I said," she looks exasperated already "Are you wanting one?" She had a pulled smile, the one you give customers when you want to add something else but you shouldn't. Just by her tone and expression you felt like you could hear the unsaid, "Or are you just going to block up the counter?"
Feeling a bit embarrassed now you went went to say"No, sorry" but what came out was "Um, sorry, yes m-ma'am, cherry please. Thank you." This happened most times you were caught off guard, starring at something on a stand or store because you're either just in you're own mind or a memory. The embarrassment catches and usually ends with you buying whatever it was or doing a weird scurry of shame away.
Cherry wasn't even your favorite. Usually not even your top three choices, but you knew why you picked it. After your feet finally started moving again your brain, what was left of the flaming hot mush it had become, registered the flavor of the candy as cherry. It made sense really. You remember going over the memories before having the time to be properly mortified and remembering the way the sticky red residue you could see on his lips when you looked, shiny, pretty.
His teeth had a red sheen to it from the candy, even a little dribble of red dyed saliva could be seen at the corner of his mouth. Pretty. Shiny. He looked good with red. Reminds you of a glam rocker too. Oh frog.
You open the candy, plop it in then lean against a wall a couple feet into an alley to hopefully have a mental freak out in peace and not look like a total freak in public from going so far into your head. Glam rockers are shiny, and he's hot, and this is not helping. Seriously the intrusive thought of him in shiny red eyeshadow, hair all blown out, in shiny outfits with cut out and/or mesh, had you on your knees.
Like, actually, in the alley crouched down, head in your crossed arms, unable to stop the thoughts of a man who already had dressed like a hot punk, like a hot glam rocker, and now the thoughts are transforming saying 'hey you know, he'd look fucking hot if he was in a metal band'. The thought has you sinking lower on the ground, butt now firmly planted with your knees up so you can still successfully fold your arms on told and mock bury yourself a thoughts of glitter and tight outfits are joined by tight shiny leather, belts, spikes, and chains. The blown out hair stayed.
You stayed there for a while, tasting cherry and thinking, not relising that the very last light of sunset had finally passed, tuning out the foot traffic of the boardwalk, ignoring the way your butt and become numb and how your body tugged.
You tuned out this as well as the melodic sound of chains, boots, and rubbing leather. You didn't hear someone come into the alley or when they first said 'hey, sugar'.
Your brain only slightly registered the sound of chains hitting the ground. It completely registered the touch to your knee that your fairy skirt had had left bare, shocking your head up and into the chin of the unknown man who stumbled back from his crouch and landed on his rear.
You both groan, as you hold the top of your head and him his chin. "Damn sugar, didn't mean to scare you like that."
You look up finally noticing that this man isn't unknown at all, it's the man from before. Blown out blonde hair and blue eyes that were subjects of fantasies just moments before were in front of you, looking at you. You look down, not now, why now? "I'm sorry I didn't mean to hit you, didn't scare just, startled."
Trying to look everywhere but his face wasn't working. Today he was in his jacket from before and a band shirt, cut off and cut up, the jagged 'M' and 'A' being the only tell it used to say Matellica. The mesh shirt underneath it was pull tight by his position he was still in, legs spread and bent in criminally tight ripped jeans with chains and a fucking bondage belt.
Seriously why me, why you, why now!? He's holding himself up with one hand behind him and the other rubbing at his chin though seeming distracted –and what is that look? Oh frog I've been staring-ogling! He saw that! Saw me! Of course he saw you you're faces are maybe three feet away maximum. But does that mean he was looking at me? Well you just hit his chin dingus. But why is he here? Um, He lives here? Maybe? I don't know? But why is he here, with me.
"Hey sweetness, you alive?" You were staring, still. And he had that lazy smug grin on his face. Oh FROG. "Yeah, I'm alive." You say with absolute genius. Though in your defense you were also using about 90% of your brain power to be alive.
Flirting, interaction, crushes in general were never your strong suit. You always get flustered so easily, by the moment or your own thoughts. And being flustered leads to being embarrassed which leads to you fleeing or just silently standing there, awkwardly.
"Well that's great news sweetheart, hadn't been able to tell until you spoke up, those cute eyes of your staring my way. Would've thought you were a statue." He grins that grin and starts pushing himself more up.
What he says hits uou "sweetheart" "cute" "staring". You were staring. Oh f r o g. That feeling hits again, the one of embarrassment, your cheeks burning. "Im sorry, very sorry for your chin and staring." You start to turn the corner. Fleeing. You were fleeing.
Or was until you felt a hand tugged in your sleeve. You turn back and the he is with big blue eyes pand a slight confused look"No need to be sorry babe, where you going?" You look up at him "Away?" Not quite sure what's happening yourself. He pulls your sleeve, as well as you closer. "Well why that? Why don't we walk around see where to night takes us?"
You didn't want to, not because of him, but you. Being by him made you anxious, his pretty face made you fidget nervously.
What if I mess it up, and he thinks I'm weird or disgusting? What if something goes wrong, there's so many people here? What if it goes great? Where do I go from there? Your sister voice filter through you brain. You won't know unless you try, something she's always saying, take a chance make a risk. If you never want to see him again you won't have to, live a little.
You get yourself together and look up at his waiting expression, "Yeah, I'd like too"
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#the lost boys x reader#the lost boys#fanfiction#fanfic#fiction#paul the lost boys#paul x reader#the lost boys x you#The reader is a mess#So am I#It fits#I need some blueberry tea so bad
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Little thief
You were just minding your own business when a little thief appeared.
Warning: none, one use of ‘chica’ but that’s just Paul so I think reader could be any gender, blood (just a bit), fluff, fluff, fluff
It was painfully slow week night. You were in a limbo of ‚do not want to do anything‘ and ‚could not be bothered to do anything‘ with a bit of ‚I need to make some friends‘ springled in. You weren’t exactly looking for entertainment. Sure, you were bored but that didn’t mean you should be holed up in your room and watch tv all night. Instead you went to Boardwalk to just sit around and lament you weren’t home watching tv. Brilliant plan right there.
But hey, a myriad of sugary junk food was at your disposal here so that’s surely an improvement. You bought some fried dough with heaps of powdery sugar and syrup on it and a milkshake to top off the diabetes inducing extravaganza. Why did you do it? Again, you were bored. The rides didn’t seem appealing and the shops didn’t have anything new to offer so wasting money on something you would bite into once and leave for some homeless person to find seemed like the right thing to do.
You sat down at one of the vacated picnic tables down at the beach, where the circus music from all those rides seemed to fade into a nice lull. You laid out your outrageous choice of the dinner on in front of you without touching it. Sometimes a person just needs to be in the right headspace to down 15 oz of pure sugar, you know? The briny smell of the ocean filled your lungs. You were watching the waves roll over one another when you heard a little thud.
A bat.
A tiny brown bat landed on the table right in front of you. That little pebble fucker wasn’t even looking at you! It was trying to get into the cup of milkshake that towered over it. It‘s tiny clawed hands scraped over the slick plastic surface. The little body was shakily balanced on two unstable feet that shuffled from place to place as it tried to climb up the cup but failed. Flopping it’s wings here and there to try and get into better position as it planned it’s next attack.
It was digustingly cute.
You had to chuckle at the small noice of frustration that left the little creature after an unsuccessful jump. It just hopped onto the cup before sliding down like some cartoon character. „Hey, bud,“ you said and the bat stopped in it’s tracks. It looked up at you with beady black eyes, head tilting to one side as if to say ‚yeah?‘. It wasn’t afraid at all. Huh, maybe it was used to tourists feeding it?
„Were you seriously trying to steal it right in front of my eyes?“
The animal made small squeaking noise and wiggled it’s butt. You took that as a yes.
„Little thief. Well, at least you confessed.“
You reached over and pulled out the straw, covering it in whipped cream before offering it to your new furry companion. „Here you go.“ It immediately went for it. Tiny pink tongue darted out to scoop up the sugary goodness. It was making proper mess too. It’s mouth and the tip of one of it’s ears somehow got covered in cream. There was no decorum. Just pure gluttony. The thing looked more and more like a piglet rather than a bat as it devoured the treat and almost bit through the straw itself.
„Careful. You don’t want tummy ache,“ you smiled down at it and dutifully kept the straw leveled so the tiny beast could snack comfortably. When there was no more food left, it snapped it’s small fangs at the stick before biting into it and trying to wrench it from your grasp. The key word ‚try‘. It could dig it’s miniscule heels in all it wanted but you were simply stronger, bigger and - most important – you refused to give up your straw. Instead you pulled it away and scooped some more cream before giving it to your ungrateful friend.
Can bats even eat sugar? Now, you didn’t know anything about bats but you hope it’s smell and insticts will inform it if it’s good for him or not.
After it finished it’s serving, it looked up at you, at the cup, back at you before strolling over to the cup at tapping at it few times. Then it had the nerve to look back at you. That little rascal.
You graciously pulled a piece from the fried dough and offered it instead just so your sponger would have some variety. It immedietly went into munch town, wiggling it’s butt and making happy yipping noises. You think you heard it purr at one point when it was licking syrup from your finger but you weren’t sure. The thing was too small and the crashing waves nearby too loud.
Giving it second helping of the dough, you put your face in hand while holding the treat in the other. It took quite a while for it to scarf down the food and you spaced out in the meantime. It was kind of nice. Providing for a cute little animal filled you with dopamine and when it’s tongue started licking your fingers again you just closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling… before the serene moment ended with a flash of pain.
„Ouch, hey,“ you huffed. Pulling your hand back, you looked at it and saw your finger was bleeding. „Hey,“ you said again, this time in accusing manner and looked at the bat that somehow managed to look sheepish. „That’s not very nice thing to do, you know?“
The bat folded it’s wings underneat it’s body and hung it’s head down. It did look properly scolded so you took pity on it. You sigh before presenting your injured finger, „you see this? You don’t do this to someone who’s nice to you. This place is way too sensitive for your little nibblers.“ You paused for a second to let the information sink in because by this point you were fully convinced this tiny animal could understand you. Or you just went too long without human interaction. „You go for the knuckle, it doesn’t hurt as much there“ you finished.
You put your hand in front of the bat and angled it so the imp had better access. Those beady eyes look up at you in confusion. It’s stare flicked down at your hand before up again. With a smile, you tapped at your knuckle with your other hand, „go ahead bud.“
It took a hesitant step forward before giving your knuckle tiny lick. When you just smiled down at it and nodded it dived right in. It looked like it had to use some strenght to bite through the thick skin but after a few tries it finally managed to get to the blood.
Blood. Huh.
It didn’t even faze you. Guess they are right when they say people of Santa Carla are strange.
You let your tiny guest lap at your hand to it’s heart content. You were honest enough with yourself to admit that when it made those little cooing noises of content, it warmed your heart. The bat got overexcited and stuck it’s snout into the wound, presumably filling it’s nostrils with blood, and started sneezing. „There’s no rush.“ You rubbed it’s back as gently as you could. It shook it’s head in order to clean up it’s airways but after a minute or two it went right back to it’s dinner.
Maybe you could take it home. Having a pet bat is rather rad. It obviously wasn’t afraid of you and you had an inkling it would be an excellent listener. Who needs friends when you have an animal who can’t argue back?
„Now, what do we have here.“
A voice startled you from the peaceful moment and you whipped around to see four punks standing nearby. Familiar faces. You saw them on the Boardwalk where they had a reputation of being trouble makers. The bleached blonde Billy Idol wannabe, Twisted Sister, Tall Dark and Handsome and an actual angel that currently looked like he’s about to chew off his own thumb with a manic smile on his face. The last one was the only person who wasn’t examining you like a bug under a microscope. He was looking down… at your hand?
Before you had chance to do anything, the tall brunette flicked his eyes somewhere behind you and said, „Laddie,“ in tone that bone tired parents used on their misbehaving children. You turned back to see a little boy trying to hide behind you.
„Huh.“ There was a second of silence before you pieced together what was happening. „So you are a little vampire,“ you said to the boy who gave you toothy smile.
„Hey! Hey, chica! How do you know that?“ The rocker guy asked, looking genuinely flabbergasted.
You gave him the arched brow of condescendance. „Dude, this is Santa Carla. Everybody knows it has pest problem.“
#tlb#the lost boys#the lost boys laddie#the lost boys david#the lost boys marko#the lost boys paul#the lost boys dwayne#Enaris brain goes brrrrrr
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bright beginnings pt. 9.
pairing: single dad!joseph quinn x fem!reader
wc: 865
warnings: very brief mention of jordan and her bf making out
part 8 • part 10
3/11 a/n: WOW MELLY UPDATING?? WHACK. also hi im back!! i ended up writing more to this part after and just never updated it??? so here’s the newly updated part (:
a/n: im sorry this part is so short y’all, my brain has been FRIED after the week i’ve had at work, i’ll be self caring and writing (hopefully) parts that are a lot better than this one next. anywho, we’re back to y/n’s pov now.
“jordan i think he’s seeing someone.”
you dramatically flopped on jordan’s bed, not even caring that her boyfriend was literally inches away from punching you in the face for interrupting them.
“what?”
“he mentioned a girl, grace, she was coming over tonight.”
jordan pushed herself off lap, her shirt falling back into place. “say you’re lying.”
“i wish i was. he even left early today. with the twins.”
“no!” jordan let out a dramatic gasp. “that cheeky fucker! there’s no signs that he has a girlfriend at all.”
“right? so that’s why i’m confused.”
shawn sighed. “you’re confused? i’m confused.”
“not now shawn.” both you and jordan turned to face him, stoically faced.
you turned back to jordan. “how could he openly flirt with me when he’s literally seeing someone?”
“you said he’s in the middle of a divorce, right?” you nodded. “he’s probably just mucking around, getting his feet in the pool. you don’t even know if they’re exclusive.”
“well he introduced them to the twins so it sounds pretty fucking exclusive.” you huffed. “i really thought there was something there, you know? it’s been so hard to find anyone over here because men suck- no offense shawn- and the moment i thought i found something that could turn into the relationship i wanted, he’s seeing someone else.”
“why don’t you just ask him?”
“ask my boss about his love life? no thanks.” you scoffed. “i’m not making it obvious that i like him.”
“well considering how girls night went i’m sure he at least likes you a little bit. he touched your knee!”
“that could mean anything now that i know of grace.” your hands flew over your face, dramatically groaning. “am i stupid for lusting over him?”
“not at all.” jordan patted your knee sympathetically. “you had no idea he was even talking to other people.”
“thats the thing!” your hands dropped to your lap. “he doesn’t seem like that kinda guy! he seems very much like a mutually exclusive ‘i don’t talk to anyone else while i talk to you’ type of person.”
“listen,” shawn started. “maybe he’s exploring his options you know? not everyone is exclusive during the talking stage.”
“i see your point babe, but i raise you- he just divorced his wife. how could he be seeing someone that fast?” jordan turned to you. “how messy is the divorce?”
“um, i think messy. i haven’t met julia in the months i’ve been working there, it’s only been joe so far.”
“so they probably haven’t been in love for a hot minute.”
“we don’t know that.” you sighed. “i probably put too many eggs in one basket. maybe i should just go back to tinder.”
“no no,” jordan ripped your phone from your hands. “you are not getting on that hellsite just because you think joe is seeing someone else. i’m banning you from tinder.”
“but-”
“no! no buts. if i see it on your phone or hear that stupid little bell it’s on sight.”
“you’re mean.”
“and you clearly need a mimosa. get off your ass about this! it's one mishap. just give it some time and maybe he’ll realize you’re the one for him.”
you rolled your eyes. “yeah like drinking my problems away is going to help.”
“i’m just saying, it’ll help!”
“like fucking your boyfriend helps when you don’t want to talk about school?”
jordan let out a pathetic whine. “econ is hard, okay?”
shawn looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself. you sighed, looking back to jordan.
“you swear you saw no sign of a girlfriend at all on his facebook?”
“promise. girl guide honor.” jordan looked at you. “why would i lie to you about something like that?”
“to protect my heart.”
“well yeah, you got me there.” she shrugged. “i promise you, if i find anything i will tell you.”
you held out your pinky. “if you break this promise i’m killing you.”
“good to know.”
“hey so can i have my girlfriend back now?”
“yeah, sorry. i uh, yeah.”
“don’t go sulk!” jordan gave y/n a pointed look. “i know you.”
“stop reading me like a book, it's weird.”
“it’s not weird, it's intuition. go relax and read a book or something. leave it to me. i got this.”
you raised an eyebrow. “should i be nervous?”
“always.”
with a roll of your eyes you climbed off of jordan’s bed, flipping her off as you went back to your room. she was right— you needed to relax. there was probably a chance he was talking about a friend. men were allowed to have friends. flopping onto your bed, you looked over to your bookshelf to try and figure out what to read. finally finding one, you picked it up off the shelf. you were about to open the book you had grabbed when your phone dinged. a facebook notification popped up on the screen, prompting you to hold it up so faceid could unlock your phone. the notification almost gave you a heart attack as you read what it said over and over again.
“jordan…!” you yelled out, waiting for her reaction. “there’s been a development!”
#bright beginnings universe#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn rpf#joseph quinn imagine
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Hello. We are now officially in the cheating phase. And a lot happened over few days: 1/2 2x18: ‘oh look, Blondie is back..are we finally done with the dramatics? Brian..i mean it’s not like this isn’t a new thing but damn this isn’t gonna help, is it? Boys, come on just kiss and make up.’ He just sighed and flopped back on the couch because Ben and Mikey came up but he is a little worried about Ben. ‘YOU HOPED HE WOULD SURPRISE YOU BUT YOU DIDNT EVEN TELL HIM YOURE GOING?! JUSTIN COME ON COMMON SENSE!!! Daphne knock some sense into him! WHY IS THERE VIOLIN MUSIC WHY?!?! NO NO NO NO NOOOO. GET FUCKED MY DUDE! Justin come on!! This is pure bullshit, wipe that fucking smile off your face, this shit isn’t even impressive, blah blah blah blah how do you not puke when you say these things’ Ethan says his “pretty good, I’m a genius” line to which my brother scoffed and went ‘my man, your IQ wouldn’t even register as an earthquake so humble yourself..oh they’ve been telling you that since you were 6? WELL GET FUCKED because I am here to deliver some news for you, you ain’t shit!’ He just paused the tv and is hysterically laughing ‘First off my man, back the fuck up, nobody needs to feel your breath while you talk and second of all *in a mocking voice* it comes through you? Justin come the fuck on, you can’t seriously fall for this bullshit. (Ethan points to the garbage truck) oh look, your ride is here, now hop on and fuck off.’ He is currently livid about George and Emmett but he is also angry at Ethan and he can’t decide which one to focus on. ‘Ben, no offense but I don’t have the time for you. I gotta knock some sense into Justin…He has a tummy ach- oh there goes Ben, fuck!’ ‘HE MADE HIM CARRY A GARBAGE COUCH TO THE TOP FLOOR? Justin, push him down the stairs. Where the fuck is Brian because i am sick of this shit. Justin, i know a way cooler place..one that doesn’t have a couch infested by bugs..i hate his accent when he pronounces fancy shit. Like we get it dude you jerk off to your violin, NOW GET OFF MY TV!..Justin stop talking shit about Brian. This isn’t cute, he NEVER speaks badly about you. That’s right fucker! They LIVE TOGETHER!…oh this goatee fucker is jealous of Brian’s job and loft and everything else. Good. Eat shit. *mocks Ethan again* how about you practice practice practice fucking off because I’m tired tired tired *pauses the tv and looks at me* just so you know, i wanted to tell him to jump off a bridge but decided not to cause that might be a bit much for now. NO JUSTIN YOU WILL NOT SEE HIM AROUND BECAUSE WE HAVE RULES AND BRIAN AND RULES THAT YOU MADE. Did he invite Brian to that art thingy? He better! I need Brian to see him and laugh in his face!’ ‘AHHH BRIAN AND JUSTIN! Justin, baby, clearly his work is stressful right now and you can tell. Stop being insulted cause your grown man with a job has a job to worry about. Also your day was full of that fucker so maybe shush! Justin…did you think about Brian when you were carrying that ugly couch? *another pause* What’s with the moping? I get that he was sad cause of Vermont which btw, he acted dumb on that one so that is fully his own fault. But this *waves his hand at Justin on tv* is bullshit. I raised you better than that. OH I WONDER WHY YOUR TRIP WASNT FUN WITHOUT HIM? You are so dumb, i love you so much Blondie but you’re so dumb. SO YOU DIDNT THINK HED CARE THAT YOU LEFT BUT YOU TOLD DAPHNE THAT YOU WAITED FOR HIM?! HOW ABOUT TALKING? You are running in circles and I am LOSING MY FUCKING MIND. Of course he missed you, stop being a little bitch. OH DAMN..WHILE THEY STAND?! OH COME ON BEN WHAT A FUCKING COCKBLOCK’ He now paused the tv and went outside for a cigarette. This man is about to hit midlife crisis and we aren’t even 20 minutes in. ‘Okay Michael, what are we measuring here? Everyone needs someone. Oh look its the art thingy!! Where is Brian? OH FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?! I take it back, go jump off a bridge IM EXHAUSTED-Daphne, my girl! Please, I am begging you, please don’t like him! Pleaseeeee!’
Oh dear sweet anon, we're really in it now. Thoughts and prayers to you and your brother.
(Ethan points to the garbage truck) oh look, your ride is here, now hop on and fuck off. HA! Your brother is right.
how about you practice practice practice fucking off because I’m tired tired tired *pauses the tv and looks at me* just so you know, i wanted to tell him to jump off a bridge but decided not to cause that might be a bit much for now I LOVE how careful your brother is with his insults.
HOW ABOUT TALKING? <- every fan of this show ever
Oh boy oh boy. I know it only goes downhill from here...
#ask winderlylandchime#dear sweet anon#queer as folk#a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023
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Night Out
Shorter update, but building up to something bigger!
Heist Team Masterlist
Tagging @painful-pooch @winedark-whump @justplainwhump @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight - let me know if you want to be added/removed!
CW: alcohol, drugging + kidnapping
***
Scipio turns his head, nodding to acknowledge the woman who just sat down next to him at the bar. “Oh, they got you too?”
Ace shoots him a glare as she shows the bartender her license and orders a drink. “I hate your accent,” she grumbles, playing with a piece of her hair.
Scipio laughs and downs the rest of his beer. “Awh. Still young enough that the bartender asks for your ID. So I have to ask, who pushed you over the edge?” For the past week, Penn has been keeping all seven members of the team cooped up in an apartment while he and Jude went over building diagrams and other things. Seven people, seven strangers in one apartment… “It was Penn for me,” Scipio says. “He obviously doesn’t think very highly of me. I don’t really know why, but…”
“Fuckin’ Markham snores.” Ace takes her martini from the bartender and turns to face Scipio. “Since he and I are sharing the couch, I haven’t slept well all week. And do you think there’s something off with Hollis?”
Scipio frowns and orders another beer. “What do you mean?”
Ace shrugs, taking a small sip of her drink. “Well, you’re in a room with him so you’d know better than me. He just seems off.”
Scipio’s been holed up in a room with Darien and Hollis for the week. Penn and Jude have the other bedroom. “Yeah. To be fair, all us fuckers are a little off, no? Darien is bloody terrified of Penn. Jude also seems to not be a fan of yours truly, which obviously means she has poor taste.”
“You think…very highly of yourself.” Ace smirks and leans forward, her black hair spilling across her shoulders. She’s pretty, Scipio can’t deny that, but she’s definitely not Scipio’s type. She’s got an air to her, like she’s good and she knows it, like she came from money. She keeps her back perfectly straight while she sips at her martini. “You know what? Fuck it.” She raises her glass towards him, a smile on her face. “Let’s get drunk and let’s make some bad, bad decisions together.”
Scipio takes his beer from the bartender and gently clinks his stein against her stem glass. “Cheers, love.”
***
As it turns out, Ace can drink him under the table. They both stumble out onto the street, Ace laughing. Scipio groans and holds his head, his mouth sour with the taste of beer. “Ace, babe, you didn’t tell me…” He leans over, stumbling across the pavement. “You didn’t tell me you could hold your liquor.”
She laughs again and turns her head to the sky, shrugging on her sports jacket and a pair of leather gloves. “Don’t be such a bitch, Scipio.”
Scipio flops down on the curb, taking a deep breath. “Oh, love, I’ve no idea where we are right now.”
“Eh, they’re not gonna miss us much.” Ace sits down next to him. “It’s the Penn and Jude show over there. Probably still holed up in their room planning shit without us. You know, I could have done a job this week. Could have made some money.”
“Like you need it,” Scipio mumbles. He’s not completely trashed, but his filter is gone.
Ace opens her mouth to respond, but out of nowhere, a huge, muscular man dressed in all black and wearing a hood runs up behind her. He yanks her up off the curb, easily holding the drunk woman in place while he holds a cloth to her mouth.
Scipio doesn’t stick around to watch Ace fight. He pulls himself to his feet, staggering around before taking off in an unsteady run.
He doesn’t make it far. The man is on him in no time, grabbing him from behind and lifting his legs clean off the ground.
Scipio tries to fight it, tries to squirm around in his drunken state, but it’s no use. The cloth is pressed and held firm against his mouth and he has no choice other than to pass out in the man’s arms.
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teasing kiss. [From Ruluf-- monstersmade]
[WHY DID TUMBLR RUIN TAGGING, I DON'T UNDERSTAND-]
nonverbal prompts [ACCEPTING]
He never quite sat well with how some fat, scummy little shit like Corneo managed to take over the criminal underworld- The fucker had a mean streak, sure, but it was the same way you'd look a kid who gets off on burning ants with a magnifying glass or ripping the wings off a pinned fly.
The man was disgusting and crude and had no sense of decorum or tact- Yoon supposed that's what happened when you gave the keys to the castle to a miserable little fool jingling his merry way across the floor. Always sweaty and sporting a half chub of a midget's thumb between his stubby little pug legs, prone to piss all over the place just to show he owned it like his own personal little pile of garbage to roll around and luxuriate in.
Jae never disrespected Two Guns, maybe because they both could smell the same lousy stench around each other- Stale tobacco, dirty water spiraling around a guttering sewer drain, years upon years of grime and blood caked all over their souls like old yellowing streaks of crusty jizz splattered against peeling wall paper.
They'd both had to kill and crawl and scrape their way through the shit to survive, the blinding neon glow burning sallow from the gaudy Wutaitown Pavilion sign replacing the actual sun- which you couldn't even see because of the damn plates blocking it out.
Somehow, he just couldn't see Ruluf being genuinely scared of anyone. Especially not a hopped-up little roach of a man like the Don.
He wondered if maybe there'd been collateral levelled against him, like blackmail- Corneo threatening his family, assuming the other Turk even had any.
There was gossip, especially about the auditions. Whispers of honest to god branding women, like they were nothing but livestock.
Did Corneo leave his little stamp of ownership on his goons, too?
How badly did Two Guns want to kill the guy? When a man's hunted down like an animal, that kind of hate stays with him- Back a guy into a corner and you could see how quickly the well-read and put together gentleman shifts, grows fangs and bristles his fur like a rabid jackal.
When someone beats you down hard enough, it doesn't matter what muddy shade of gray your morals happen to flip-flop into, it feels... good. Makes you wanna see what you did to 'em. Watching the raw-black blood pool in their empty eyes as the last few spurts of a pulse keep their corpse animated like a jerky marionette on twisted strings.
He wasn't expecting Ruluf to turn and smile at him, like some fresh-faced, dewy-lipped idol forces himself to when a freaky fangirl gets a little too scream happy. Jae could practically see the fucking sparkles popping off around his face, it was so ridiculous.
"You wanna take a picture? You know, for posterity? Been looking at me so hard, your eyes are burning holes through your sunglasses. "
Just to wipe that smug little smirk off his pretty face, Whip jams the heel of his shoe into his upper thigh just a inch or so to the right of his groin- yanking the other Turk forward by the loose lapels of his dress shirt and jacket.
"Fuck you, Two Guns."
He's still smiling as Jae tilts his head a little differently and brushes their lips together, dark eyes locked in a kind silent commiseration.
#ceaselxss#◈ WRITING#this got away from me but i was on a roll baybee#oh no they're kinda cute#monstersmade
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✠ Sanzu’s Gift ✠
Alpha! Sanzu x Omega! Reader
Cw: 18+ Material. Minors do not interact. Noncon. Gore. Omegaverse. Kidnapping. Mention of past abuse.
“Why the hell is there a pool of blood on your desk?”
“I’m working on somethin. Just.. give me a second would ya?” Sanzu’s pink tongue darts out in concentration as he puts the final touches on the gift he’s wrapping in front of the brothers.
“Yeah, and why’d you decide to work on this little project after hours? The custodians already came through. This mess will be here until Monday.” Rindou’s bored expression doesn't match his curious tone. In the dim moonlight, blood can be spotted on Sanzu’s gloves and speckled on the small box he’s currently failing to wrap. Once Sanzu sticks down the last piece of tape, Ran wastes no time in swiping it up for inspection.
“Who’s the gift for?” He takes a large sniff and eyes it skeptically. “Smells like another alpha. Doesn’t smell like you.”
“And how'd you know what he smells like?” Rindou’s question is mumbled and both men glance at the sudden tenseness in his posture.
“Y’think I wouldn't know what my coworker smells like by now? Or is poor Rin-Rin getting jealous.” Sanzu snickers at the blush Rindou sports as his older brother swings his arm around him.
“Fuck you.” Rindou pushes off of his brother and scowls in his direction.
“As I was saying. The gifts for my girl.” The attention swivels back to Sanzu and he smirks at the surprised expressions on both his friends.
“Your girl? I thought she fucking hated you.”
“You're courting her now? How the hell did you manage that?
With a small sigh, Sanzu flops into his desk chair and plops his sleek dress shoes on top, further messing up the grain of the wood. “I'm not courting her yet. That's what the gift’s for. She keeps avoiding me. Damn bitch.” His mumble is devoid of the lively air that the alpha usually drapes around himself like an armored coat.
Ran follows with a sharp laugh that ticks off Sanzu even further. “C’mon Sanzu. No omega cunt is worth this much. Just buy a whore or somethin. Plenty of desperate omegas out there who could use the money anyway.”
Sanzu shoots up from his chair with a deep growl. “I shouldn't have to buy a fucking whore. She's mine. Always has been. My name is carved into her bloodstream. She's my fucking omega and I'd rather us both dead then without each other.”
“Clearly she doesn't feel the same way.” Rindou mutters. And Ran’s hand shoots out to grab Sanzu’s shoulder before he climbs over his desk to tear out Rindou’s throat.
“Fine, fine. What’d you get her anyway?” Sanzu pulls back at Ran’s question and looks into his eyes. A deadly expression now covers the surface of Sanzu’s visage. And a cold sliver of a smile stretches his scars. Ran can smell the other alphas' bloodlust release unbidden.
“A cock.”
Rindou sputters at the response. Confusion and worry for his friend etched into the grooves of his face. “Well…her ex’s cock to be specific. She hated the bastard. Think he used to hurt her or somethin. He’s a pathetic excuse for an alpha.” Sanzu lets out a string of curses and spews a glob of spit at his feet. “So I just freed him from something he never deserved to have in the first place. He’s not a man. Why would he need use of a cock?”
“You cut her ex’s cock off?” Rindou’s eyes are wide and disbelieving.
“And balls.”
“You crazy bastard.” Ran is doubled over laughing now and Rindou shoots him a look of disgust.
“So all this blood is from his…”
“Right? Thought it’d be messier. Goes to show how small it fucking was. I’ve fucked omegas with larger pussies than his dick. Don't know what she saw in him anyway.” Ran cackles even more at Sanzu’s last statement. And Sanzu swipes the box from his desk with a grin.
“I’m headed to her place now. And both you two fuckers are coming with. There’s a chance she might not like her gift. And she’s a crazy omega bitch. If she gets upset.. I’ll need your help.”
Ran straightens at his statement. “Now? It’s Friday. I’m supposed to be halfway to heaven in omega cunt right now. Your girl can wait till after we hit the strip.”
Sanzu lets out a noise between a snarl and a protest, effectively establishing his dominance over the weaker alpha. “I said. Fucking now.” With Sanzu’s eyes filled with a bright kind of malice, both men reluctantly agree to shadow Sanzu.
_____
You’re surprised to hear the doorbell ring this late at night. Knowing that you weren't supposed to have company over, you stumble to the door. Assuming it's probably a next door neighbor in need of a favor.
“Shit.” The sight of the man through the peephole brings you no joy. Even less so when you realize you’ve unconsciously clenched your thighs at the faint scent of him wafting through the gaps.
“Sanzu Haruchiyo get the fuck off my property or else-”
“Fuckkkkk, don't say my full name like that, omega. Got me cuming just from the sound of it.” His head is thrown back in a fit of ecstasy and you almost have the forethought to slam the door in his face. Almost.
“I’m not your omega.”
“Right. Not yet. But I got you something.” Your breath hitches in surprise as Sanzu shoves the small gift into your hands. “Go on, princess. Open it up. Picked it out for you specially.”
Your hands shake as you meticulously unwrap the paper. It’s a wooden box, beautifully carved with intricate details of flowers on the top. You open the lid, expecting a piece of jewelry and your breathing stops at the sight in front of you.
“I’m sorry it’s a bit messy. I tried to clean up the blood as much as i could but who knew cocks bleed so fucking much?”
“C-cocks? Sanzu.” Your head whips up and you're afraid to ask your next question when you’re met with his pleased expression. “Don't tell me. Is this-?”
Sanzu scowls. "You recognize it? Guess I should have expected that. You were with him for a couple of years.”
The sentence confirms your worst fears and you drop the box. The appendage flops across the steps of your apartment, making blood splotches on the concrete. You take a step back but Sanzu expects this reaction and his hand shoots out to grab your waist.
“I'm not done with you yet, angel. The only cock you should recognize on sight like that should be mine. I want you sucking my dick till you’ve memorized the shape of every vein and the smell of my skin. I want the size of my slit burned into your little omega brain, till all you think about is when your next fill of cum will be.”
You make to let out a scream but Sanzu has anticipated this as well and a large hand shoves into your mouth to stop the noise.
“Uh uh. Can't have you alerting the neighbors. Ran.” Sanzu hisses. “Bring me the fucking rope.” Ran strolls around the corner with Rindou at his side.
“Thought you were trying to court her, Sanzu.” Ran roughly pins your arms behind your back and knots the rope tight against your skin to stop your struggling.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Sanzu scowls. Your squirming is no match for the strength of the two alphas. And soon your legs, mouth and arms have all been pinned into submission. Rindou bends down and grabs the wood box you dropped just minutes earlier.
“What do you want to do with her gift?” His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and he's taken on his usual apathetic tone again.
“Put it back in the box Rindou. Wouldn't want my sweet omega forgetting the first gift I ever got her.”
#sanzu x reader#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#sanzu haruchiyo#tokyo revengers x reader#tr x reader#sanzu x you#sanzu x y/n#tokyo revengers omegaverse#tw.omegaverse
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2 for lambskier or geraskier!
(i'm not confident enough to write lambskier yet despite thinking this fit them VERY well) so here, have some geraskier that leans towards geraskefer:
wc: 1.9k. Slight season 2 spoilers.
~
For the past hour, Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer have been getting absolutely wasted. Geralt has been drinking white gull, while Yennefer summoned up some good wine for herself and Jaskier. Now that they’re all thoroughly plastered, Jaskier is feeling more comfortable than he has in the entire time he’s been at Kaer Morhen. It’s not that anyone here’s been cruel or anything, but they haven’t exactly been welcoming either. And he’s been feeling out of place as it is, anyway. What’s a bard without a lute?
Anyway, Yennefer dragged Jaskier and Geralt to her room after dinner and announced that they were getting drunk, and Jaskier is still a little afraid of Yennefer, so he hadn’t argued, even though he’s not certain Geralt wanted to drink with him.
Jaskier takes another lazy sip of wine. His hand has gotten curled up in Yennefer’s hair at some point, and he’s been making an absolutely terrible braid one-handed down the side of her head. Yennefer’s room is ensorcelled to be less of a shithole than the rest of the keep, and Jaskier is warm for the first time since he was literally on fire.
Geralt is acting the way he always does when he gets drunk, which is to be massively tactile and drape himself over the nearest friendly body. He’s across both Jaskier and Yennefer’s legs, flopped like one of the hunting hounds Jaskier’s father had.It’s all very comfortable, and Jaskier doesn’t feel like an outsider in this room.
Then Geralt grabs Jaskier’s hand, not the one doing the braiding, his right hand, and Jaskier doesn’t tense up because it’s Geralt and because he’s drunk off his ass, but it’s a near thing. He doesn’t even like it when Yennefer touches that hand to heal it.
Geralt frowns at the hand, and takes Jaskier’s glass of wine, plops it on the ground below the bed where they’re all sprawled.
“Hey,” Jaskier whines. “Tha’s mine!”
Geralt just hums, and starts squinting at Jaskier’s hand. He makes a very thorough inspection of it, bending the fingers one at a time and—holding his medallion up to Jaskier’s hand?
“I love you,” Jaskier tells Geralt matter-of-factly, “but please stop whatever it is you’re doing.”
“‘M not doin’ anything,” Yennefer protests. “‘M being very polite. Letting you braid my hair.”
“Not you,” Jaskier says, glaring at her. “I don’ love you. You’re—my worst enemy, remember?”
Yennefer scoffs. “‘M your wife.” She giggles. It’s a very cute giggle.
“Can be both,” Jaskier argues. “I know pl… I know plenty of people who hate their spouses.”
“Know carnally,” Yennefer says.
Jaskier nods decisively. “Best way to know anybody.”
He wants more wine. That’s worth a toast. But Geralt put Jaskier’s wine on the floor. And he’s still holding Jaskier’s hand in his. Jaskier gives it a faint tug, but Geralt doesn’t move, doesn’t even budge, because he’s a ferociously strong fucker and likes to rub it in on Jaskier.
“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, “gimme my hand back. Gimme my wine back.”
“You love me?” Geralt asks, in a very small voice.
Shit. Has Jaskier not told Geralt that before? He has to have told him. Why wouldn’t he tell him? (Jaskier has a niggling suspicion that there might be a good reason for keeping that information a secret, but he ignores it). It’s very important that Geralt know he’s loved. Nobody tells Geralt they love him.
“‘Course I love you,” he says. “Why else would I flolwow—follow you around for so long? For the pleasure of your—” he chuckles— “conversation?” He tugs at his hand a little bit, but Geralt’s still got it in a death grip.
“We’re friends,” Geralt mutters.
“Well, duh,” Jaskier agrees. “I love all my friends. Even the witch.”
Yennefer pinches his thigh and mutters, “Told you.”
Jaskier yanks at her hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to count as retaliation. He tells Geralt, “I just love you. You know. Extra. Can I please have my wine back?”
“I thought—” Geralt bites his lip. It’s very pretty. “Your songs.”
“Best song I ever wrote was after you left me behind, so…” Jaskier shrugs.
“You’re lovable, Geralt, get over it,” Yennefer says, sounding utterly bored with both of them. “Bard, more wine?”
Jaskier tugs his hand again, and whines. “I need my hand.”
Yennefer shakes her head, loosening his fingers from her growing collection of small, uneven braids. She reaches down over Geralt to grab Jaskier’s wine glass, and tops them both up.
Jaskier takes a good long drag. He’d still like his hand back from Geralt. Geralt won’t hurt him, but Jaskier would still like his hand to himself. Just for his own comfort.
“Smells like magic,” Geralt mutters. He puts his medallion, still around his neck, into Jaskier’s hand, so he can feel the buzz too.
Jaskier hums affirmatively and doesn’t answer.
“Why’s your hand magicked?” Geralt presses.
He hasn’t taken the amulet back, and it brings his head very close to Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier would like to braid Geralt’s hair, too, but he’s not sure his hand is quite up to it yet. Yennefer says it’ll be okay again, soon, but that he’ll have to do some exercises to take care of the stiffness. Maybe he can use both hands. Geralt would look nice with braids.
“I dunno,” Jaskier says. “Yennefer? Why’s it still magicked?”
“Healing takes time,” Yennefer says. “‘N—’n if you tell Triss this I’ll call you a liar, but ‘m not as good at it as she is.”
“Oh,” Jaskier says. Then, to Geralt, “Healing takes time.”
Geralt squints at both of them. Jaskier thinks the expression might be accusing, but it might also just mean Geralt has to fart. “Why,” he demands, “d’you need healing?”
“‘Cause I got tortured?” Jaskier says, confused.
“When?”
“What d’you mean when?” Jaskier asks. “You were there, weren’t you?” Geralt looks blank, so Jaskier thinks. No, maybe Geralt wasn’t there for that part. “Right, you were there after. Why’d you think I was in jail?”
“‘Cause you slept with someone you shouldn’t’ve,” Geralt says absently. Then, much more seriously, “Jaskier. You got tortured? Why?”
Jaskier shrugs. “They thought I knew things.” He snorts. “Like I’ve ever known anything useful for anyone. Or told anyone anything useful.”
“You did know things,” Yennefer argues She leans back so her head is on his shoulder.
“Lies and slander,” Jaskier mutters. “‘M a fool n a fliggerbee—fibberly—filber—flibbertigibbet.”
“And a bastard,” Yennefer adds. “Don’t forget bastard.”
“Are you all right?” Geralt asks. He’s running his fingers over Jaskier’s hand, now, feeling at the fading scar tissue.
Jaskier shrugs. “Scared of fire now,” he offers. “So that’s fun. But ‘m fine. Yennefer fixed me.” He nudges her shoulder. “Told you chaos wasn’t done with you.”
“Fuck off,” Yennefer says easily. “Smug bastard.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asks, in a wounded voice.
There’s reasons Jaskier didn’t say anything. He knows they’re very good reasons. He just… can’t remember them, right now. So he shrugs and says, “‘M telling you know.”
“A better question,” Yenenfer suggests, “would be ‘Geralt, why didn’t you ask?’”
Geralt’s wounded face gets bigger, and that’s not nice, Yennefer is being mean to Geralt, that’s why Jaskier used to not like Geralt, because she did mean things to him like make him kill people that one time or leave before morning every time they slept together. And Jaskier knows Yennefer wasn’t doing it to be mean to Geralt but that was before, and back then he didn’t know Yennefer as well, and he still doesn’t think people should be meant to Geralt.
So he twists in Geralt’s grip, so he’s sort of awkwardly holding Geralt’s hand while Geralt holds his wrist. “He’s not used to having to ask me things,” Jaskier tells Yennefer. “I talk a lot.”
Yennefer snorts. “You talk so much.” She glares at Geralt and says, “He still should’ve asked.”
“Stop being mean,” Jaskier says, taking another sip of wine. “He’s got a daughter. He was worried about her.”
“Stop making excuses,” Yennefer says. When Jaskier glares at her, she says, “Just because you love him doesn’t mean you don’t get to be treated the way you deserve.”
“He’s learning,” Jaskier defends.
“He’s been learning the whole time I’ve known him. He’s smart. He can learn faster.” Yennefer makes a gesture while saying this, and splashes wine onto Geralt’s pants. None of it touches her dress.
“Don’t listen,” Jaskier tells Geralt. “I love your assholiness.”
Geralt twists his own hand in Jaskier’s grip so they’re properly holding hands, and says, “Sorry.”
“You already said sorry,” Jaskier says. He giggles. “Maybe I should get—” he hiccups. “Maybe if I get tortured more you’ll apologize more than once a decade.”
That just makes Geralt look sad again.
“Stop it,” Jaskier scolds, jostling Geralt with his knee. “‘M not mad.” He smiles at Geralt, and glances over at Yennefer. “This’s the happiest I’ve been in aaaages.”
“Me too,” Yennefer says, then makes a face. “Oh, that’s sad.”
Jaskier applauds Geralt too. “Well?”
“Well what?” Geralt grumbles. He’s trying to hold on to his pouty face.
“I’m happy, and Yennefer’s happy.” He bounces his other knee, shaking Geralt’s ribcage as well as the small of his back. “Are you happy?”
Geralt—is that a blush? It looks like a blush. Geralt’s blushing!
Jaskier must be making the most pleased face ever, because Geralt groans and rolls over so his face is buried in Jaskier’s stomach, hands still woven together under Geralt’s chest.
“He’s happy,” Jaskier tells Yennefer, satisfied.
Yennefer just hums into Jaskier’s shoulder.
~
Jaskier wakes up first the next morning, still in a stiff pile with Yennefer and Geralt. It’s only barely dawn, and his mouth tastes like something crawled into it and died, and his head is pounding. He dropped his wine glass into his lap, and it’s dried sticky on his lap and geralt’s back. Yennefer, again, has been spared. Jaskier thinks that’s magic.
He’d like to go back to sleep and ignore the discomfort of all of this, but he really needs to use the chamber pot. So he groans, and starts trying to extricate himself from the tangle, preferably without waking either of the other two.
He is, of course, unsuccessful, and Geralt wakes up and smiles at him, squeezing the hand that he’s still holding.
Which is when Jaskier remembers all the things he’d told Geralt last night, and all the perfectly good and valid reasons Jaskier had for not saying those things.
He groans, and Geralt’s smile drops, and Jaskier did not want that, so he drops his forehead down onto Geralt’s shoulder and says, “Geralt. Why did you let me drink that much? My head feels like I’ve been trampled by a kikimora.”
Geralt chuckles, and squeezes his hand.
“You don’t even have a hangover, do you?” Jaskier accuses. “Fucking witcher.”
Geralt laughs again, louder.
“Fuck you,” Jaskier groans. “Also get up. I have to piss.”
Geralt rolls away, and Jaskier gets up, stiff-legged, to do his business. After, he considers running. He and Geralt will probably have to talk now. He doesn’t want to do that, thanks very much. Because then ‘Why did you get tortured?’ will inevitably come up, which will mean Jaskier will have to say ‘Oh, it’s because we’re friends!’ which will make Geralt go into a guilt spiral, and that never goes anywhere productive. And they might have to get into things like ‘Maybe don’t blame your friend for your own life choices,’ and Jaskier has really and truly forgiven Geralt for the mountain thing but still.
But if he leaves…
He looks back to where Geralt is still flopped on top of Yennefer, who hasn’t woken up yet. They look very warm and comfortable. He flexes the hand that Geralt held all night.
He climbs back into the bed, flopping on top of Geralt and Yennefer. And Geralt’s arm comes up around his waist.
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Germs [Reid x Reader]
this gif isn’t mine
Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?
Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Rating: Mature
Category: Fluff and Smut
Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?)
A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!
masterlist
y/n - your name
y/l/n - your last name
italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts
---
I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of.
Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.
But, fuck, it was hot.
Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.
“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.
Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.
My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.
Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.
Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.
I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women.
Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.
The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’
We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.
Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.
The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.
Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”
“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”
“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”
The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”
“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”
Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”
“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”
“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.
The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”
“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”
Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”
“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.
“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”
Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”
Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”
“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.
Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”
Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”
-
And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.
He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”
I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.
“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”
My head snapped back around. “What?”
Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”
Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.
The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”
I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.
Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.
It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.
"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.
Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”
The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."
“You don’t?” I squeaked.
He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”
I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.
“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?
The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."
-
Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.
Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”
He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?
After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.
“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.
The highest praise I’ll ever need.
I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.
Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.
But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.
I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.
It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.
“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.
“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?
I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.
He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”
Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.
His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.
“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”
“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”
“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.
“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."
He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."
I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”
His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.
The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”
I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”
Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.
“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.
With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.
My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls.
“I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.
Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.
“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”
He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”
My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”
He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.
“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”
He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.
He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.
Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”
This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.
He made me feel…cherished.
I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.
Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.
His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.
I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.
“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.
I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”
He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.
“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.
I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.
His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.
One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”
I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.
I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.
We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”
I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.
“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”
My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.”
Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“
He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.
“It means everything to me, Y/n.”
-
I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?
Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.
There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.
I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.
“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”
I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.
--
#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#Dr Reid#Spencer reid fic#Spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid fics#criminal minds#criminal minds fan fic#criminal minds smut#Spencer reid x you#Spencer reid x reader#Spencer reid x y/n
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