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straykeedz · 8 months

Text

day 2: lee know + accidental stimulation

©straykeedz

tw: bff2l; female anatomy; just soft sex on the couch; very brief nipple play; unprotected piv sex (don’t do this at home 🤨); pull out method; ♡

wc: 3,3k

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

☔︎

Minho’s hands are all over your skin - touching, brushing, groping, scraping, squeezing your body in whatever way he pleases, as he leaves hungry kisses on your neck and collarbone. At the same time, he slides his hard dick between your wet folds, tip repeatedly brushing against your clit, making you whimper every single time, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with the back of your hand as his movements practically drive you crazy.

“You’re so wet, baby. So, so wet. I could slip right in.”, he chuckles, collecting some of your arousal with the pad of his fingers, pleased with what he finds between your legs - a literal mess.

You want him to. You want him to just stop teasing you and fucking put it in instead. You want to feel him, feel the velvety tip of his cock part your slit and finally enter you, you want him to sink in your body, you want him to lose his mind as he thrusts his hard cock back and forth inside of you, you want him to unravel under your touch just like you’re doing right now under his.

“Please do.”, you grab him by the wrist, hissing when his dick brushes against your clit once more - you’re already so close to cumming, but you want to feel him properly first.

“You want me to?” Minho asks you, dark brown, boba eyes staring into yours. You nod slowly, and you feel him move one hand to wrap his slender fingers around his velvety cock, ready to align it to your entrance - the very tip now kissing your wet slit, ready to welcome him inside.

He notices you tensing up a bit, your body stiff under his. With his other hand he caresses your cheek, before smiling warmly at you. “I’m right here, you’re safe with me.”, he whispers on your lips. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And before he can place his lips on top of yours or push his cock inside, you wake up.

You blink a couple of times, sight still a bit blurred, as you sit up on… Minho’s couch? How come you’re on… oh. Now you remember - you’re at Minho’s place. Fuck, there’s no way you just had a wet dream about your best friend while being asleep on said best friend’s couch - is there? Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you can’t stop repeating the scene in your dreams over and over in your head. What does this even mean? Never in your eleven years of friendship with Minho you had a wet dream about him - except maybe one time, but you were drunk and particularly horny so it doesn’t really count.

“Ah, I see you woke up.”, a voice behind you startles you, making your body jolt up. You turn around only to find Minho with two mugs in his hands, the hot steam fogging his glasses a bit. “I’m sorry I startled you. Here, I made tea.”

He places the mug on the small table besides the couch - you smile when you recognize the mug. It’s actually his favorite mug - with cat faces printed all over it, but he knows you love it, so he doesn’t mind you borrowing it whenever you hang out at his place.

“Thank you.”, you smile at him.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Minho asks as he sits down on the chair next to his couch.

“What?”

“You were squirming a lot while sleeping, I assumed you were having a nightmare or something.”, he shrugs, taking a sip of tea.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel your cheeks turn red because no, you weren’t having a nightmare. In fact, it was far from it. You were actually having a sex dream about your best friend, the same best friend who is in the same room as you.

“Oh, right. Yeah, a nightmare.”, you lie, shrugging as you bring the cup of tea to your lips.

“Was it scary?” Minho asks.

“Very.”, you answer with a chuckle.

He doesn’t have to know the truth - plus it was scary. Dreaming of sleeping with your best friend? Terrifying. Not because he’s unattractive or anything, quite the opposite actually. However, you don’t need to overthink this - it was just a dream. People dream of weird things all the time, it’s not uncanny. It doesn’t mean you’re in love with Minho or anything.

“Was I in the dream?”

You nearly choke on your tea. “What?”, you cough.

“I heard you whispering my name while you were sleeping.” Minho states matter-of-factly, not particularly bothered.

Great. First you dream of your best friend naked, about to make love to y- have sex with you, and then you apparently whisper his name in your sleep. Was there anything else embarrassing you’d done when unconscious that you’re unaware of?

“Oh, yeah, you…” Were naked on top of me and about to put your dick in my pussy. “You slayed the dragon. Of my nightmare.”, you come up with a lie, and pray to God it sounds convincing.

“I knew I’d make a hell of a knight.”, he chuckles. “Was my armor shiny?”

You automatically think back of how there was literally no armor, but then again - you can’t really say anything.

“Very.”, you cut it short. “Now help me with this stupid project.”, you try to change the subject, and it works, because Minho instantly nods and connects his computer to the ac to help you with the brief report you have to submit to your boss.

You’ve been working at your report for less than ten minutes when a sudden lightning makes your body jolt, followed by a loud thunder, which inevitably results in a power failure, and you and Minho are left in the darkness of his living room - even the computer shut down since its battery is completely dead when not connected to the ac. As you predicted, it’s just the beginning of a violent thunderstorm.

“Minho, Minho!”, you squeak, and even though you seem calm and composed, he knows deep inside you’re panicking because you’re scared of thunderstorms, a fear you have since you were a child.

“I’m here.”, you feel him getting closer, and you immediately clutch his arm, during your face in his chest as he runs his hand up and down your spine to soothe you. “It’s okay, y/n, everything’s fine.”, he tries to reassure you. “Will you be fine alone for just a couple of seconds?”, he asks you.

You shake your head, gripping on his shirt tight. “No, don’t leave, please.”, you beg.

He places a soft kiss on top of your head, his hand still rubbing gentle shapes on your back and shoulders. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll just go see if I have any candles I can lit. It’s pitch black in here.”, he explains.

“Fine.”, you give in, loosening the grip on his shirt. “But please be quick.”

Minho comes back in the living room less than a couple of minutes later, and you can’t really see him, but he has three or four candles in his hands - his phone in his mouth with the torch on to make sure he doesn’t accidentally stumble. He places them on the small table, then retrieves a pack of matches from the pocket of his sweats, and proceeds to light them one by one. Once he’s done, the room is not pitch dark anymore - the faint light the candles provide is enough to at least allow you to see each other.

“Done.”, he announces, blowing on the match to extinguish the flame, proud with himself. “Now stay here while I try to figure out how to get the power back on.”, he tells you.

Minho is back five minutes later, soaking wet, damp hair stuck on his forehead - but the dark room is the evidence that he did not manage to get the power back. He shakes his head and sighs in defeat as he removes his drenched and muddy shoes.

“I don’t think the power’s going to be back soon.”, he mutters, and he’s about to say something else when another thunder, much louder than the previous ones, makes the both of you jump - and your body starts shaking.

“Minho!”, you call his name, and he immediately rushes to your side, sensing the panic in your voice.

As soon as he’s by your side, you clutch his shirt, burying your face in his chest. He tries to protest at first, muttering something along the line of “My shirt is drenched, you’ll get wet.”, but you don’t care. You just need him close.

“Shit, y/n, you’re shaking like a leaf.” Minho comments, placing one hand on the back of your head, his damp fingers caressing your hair as you’re pressed against his the crook of his neck. “There’s nothing to be scared of, y/n. I’m right here, you’re safe.”, he whispers, one hand on your back.

Maybe it’s what he says - the exact words he’d uttered in your dreams, when he was about to push his cock inside of you, maybe it’s how he says it - whispering the words in your ear, voice low as it vibrates in his chest, sending a shiver down your spine; or maybe it’s where he says it - in his poorly lightened living room, which makes it ten times more romantic. You don’t know what it is, but you can’t help but feel a knot in your stomach as you feel your arousal begin to pool in your underwear as your heartbeat picks up its pace. You’re sure Minho didn’t say those words in hopes to turn you on - but he did anyways, albeit accidentally.

Something changed in the way you’re gripping on his shirt - Minho can feel it, and he can also feel the way you’re desperately trying to squeeze your leg and rub yourself in order to find some relief without being too obvious about it but of course, mission failed, because Minho notices. He notices and he can’t pretend he doesn’t feel the familiar warmth building up in his stomach as he swallows the lump in his throat, because he can feel his cock getting harder in the confines of his sweats. The way he’s softly breathing in your ear sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps all over your skin.

Minho’s hand, which was previously on the back of your head gently stroking your hair, moves to your shoulders first, then on your arm - bare since you’re wearing a short sleeved shirt -, brushing the skin softly with the back of his knuckles all the way to your wrist. Meanwhile, he moves his head so that his sharp nose is now brushing against your ear, so close to your jawline and neck - which does not help at all with the pool of wetness in your underwear. In fact, it makes the situation even worse, to the point that you can feel your panties are entirely soaked. He intertwines his fingers with yours - delicately, discreetly, and when he feels you squeezing his hand back, he takes it as a sign to continue.

The tip of his nose brushes on your exposed neck, which makes you almost whimper - you have to suppress it by biting your lower lip, and Minho wishes you didn’t. When he brushes his lips against the vein on your neck, tho, there’s no way you can stop a choked moan from escaping your throat - closing your eyes in anticipation, impatient to feel his lips on you. When he does place his lips on you - it feels magical. He kisses and licks and bites the skin of your neck, and then right below your jawline, and then on the back of your ear, making you shiver and kick your head back.

That’s when you meet his eyes for the first time - and you see something new in his, something you’ve never seen before, something you can’t comprehend right now. And you don’t know it, but that’s exactly what Minho’s thinking right now as he looks you in the eyes, blown pupils, you’re looking at him through your eyelashes - he’s looked you in the eyes a million times before, but they never were like they are right now. Not once. Moreover, you look flustered, he notices - cheeks puffy and red. You bite your lower lip, and it’s almost imperceptible, especially in the barely lightened room, but Minho notices it. He notices it, and takes it as an invitation to link your lips - fingers still intertwined with yours while his other hand rests on your lower back. When he leans in, you don’t move, you don’t pull away or anything - in fact, you stay right there and lean in as well, closing your eyes as your heart hammers in your chest.

Minho’s lips feel even better on yours, they’re soft and, surprisingly, not dry at all - when you brush your tongue on his lower lip, you can’t help but notice how he tastes of green tea, a reminiscence of the hot beverage he’d prepared for you both. It doesn’t take long before the kiss turns into an heated make-out session, and at some point Minho moves his hand from your back to the back of your head, which allows him to crash his lips on yours even harder.

It doesn’t look like a first kiss at all, and, truth be told, it doesn’t feel like one either. It feels almost natural - as if you and him have been doing this for forever, at least a million times before, which is something that can’t be further from the truth.

You only pull away from each other when Minho feels you tugging at his damp shirt, a clear signal you want it off. With one last peck on your lips, he lets go of your hand and removes his shirt - pulling it by the collar and throwing it somewhere in his living room. Then, his lips are back on yours, and it’s his hands that are tugging at your shirt now, as he helps you take it off, leaving you in your bra in front of him. It’s not even one of your sexiest bras, it’s one you use regularly, and it’s pretty worn out, but Minho doesn’t seem to care.

You’re now lying on the couch, your bodies pressed together - your bra is the only thing that’s in the way of feeling your bare chests. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat when you hook your thumbs on the waistband of his sweats and gently start to pull them down his legs - he didn’t think you’d be going that far tonight. He kneels between your legs, not even thinking about stop kissing you, and pulls his sweats down the curve of his ass and slides them down his thighs, freeing his cock, which slaps on his abdomen. It’s long and hard, slightly curved - and it looks absolutely delicious.

You prop yourself on your elbows when Minho tugs at your jeans - undoing the button and unzipping them incredibly fast despite his shaking hands, and you lift your ass to facilitate him as he slides them off your thighs. They end up on the floor, next to his, together with your underwear. It’s pointless to keep your bra on given the fact you’re both naked from the waist down, so you quickly unclasp it and let it fall on the floor as well.

It should feel at least a little weird, right? Your best friend practically staring at your chest, your eyes on his cock, however it doesn’t. It feels natural. He positions himself between your legs once again, body lying flat on yours as he rests on his elbows so that he doesn’t crush you. Then, he latches his lips and tongue to one of your nipples, taking it into his warm and wet mouth - you let out a choked moan, kicking your head back as you entangle your fingers in his dark hair. With the fingers of his hand, he plays with your other nipple, lightly squeezing it between the pads of his thumb and index, as his teeth gently scrape the other one.

All your life you thought Minho was an ass man and here he is - proving you wrong, sucking on your tits as if it’s his last meal.

He spends a good five minutes there - licking, lapping, sucking on your nipples, before you gently tug at his hair, so he snaps his head up in your direction, and instantly knows what you want, what you need. He reads it in your eyes, in your swollen lips, in your flustered cheeks, in the way you open your legs a little wider. He simply nods, then smile sheepishly at you as he wraps his slender fingers around his length, finally aligning its tip to your entrance, coating it in your arousal.

You can’t help but think of the dream you had earlier, and you also can’t help but certify that this feels a thousand times better.

The choked sound that escapes his throat once he pushes the tip of his cock inside your walls is a blessing to your ears, and the way he closes his eyes shut and kicks his head back, mouth agape, is absolutely ethereal. He pushes the rest of his length inside of you slowly, careful not to hurt you - he won’t, you’re insanely wet, there’s no way he could hurt you. Plus, the stretch is insanely good, and you can’t help but notice that he feels perfect inside of you - he fills you up just right.

Once he’s fully set inside of you, he takes a couple of seconds to look at you in search for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty, but then you cup his face in your palms and crash your lips onto his. He smiles into the kiss, and slowly starts to thrust inside of you, savoring the way your tight walls squeeze him each time he pushes back inside, deeper and deeper. He rocks his hips at a steady pace, back and forth, and latches his mouth to your neck, sucking and licking the flesh as he grabs one boob in his palm; he won’t stop touching you - hands all over your body, on your boobs, on your hips, on your thighs, then he rests them by each side of your face as he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, still thrusting inside of you at a steady rhythm.

Minho makes love to you. It’s not sex, it can’t be - it’s too intimate and heartfelt to be just casual sex.

He makes love to you tight there, on his couch in the middle of his poorly lighted living room, where the only thing that can be heard apart from the heavy rain are the sounds of your moans and whimpers, your heavy breaths as well as the squelching sound that accompanies Minho’s thrusts. He makes love to you just like you make love to him - intensely, clutching his shoulders as you come, unexpectedly and with a shaky whimper of his name.

“Minho…”, you pant, kicking your head back and shutting your eyes closed as your toes curl while you release around him, squeezing his length incredibly tight. So tight it only takes him a couple more thrusts to find his own release, pulling out of you just in time to shoot his semen on your stomach with a deep grunt, before collapsing on top of you, resting his head on your breasts as you both try to catch your regular breathings.

You lie there for a while, your fingers entangled in Minho’s hair as he occasionally places soft kisses on the skin of your collarbone and breasts. Neither of you speaks, words are unnecessary right now - besides, you spoke a lot minutes before, just not using words. You let your hearts talk, communicate your feelings, beating fast in your chests.

Then, all of a sudden, the power is back on - and you can’t help but think the blackout might’ve been some twist of fate to help you realize that maybe all you wanted all along was right by your side, in the form of brown boba eyes and a cat-like smile.

☔︎

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#stray kids masterlist #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #lee know smut #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids kinktober #kinktober 2023 #skz masterlist #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x reader

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opluffys · 11 months

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Hey ! I love your stuff ! What a bout a pov when Ghost does spicy things whit the fem reader , but she is pregnant ! Xoxo

hi thank you so much!!! <3 very very sorry for answering this so late!! i just saw it now :( but i hope that you like it and that i wrote what you had in mind :) <3

•

-nsfw/smut-

ghost has gotten lucky enough to be home with you for the last stretch of your pregnancy. he wanted to be there for you to ensure that you didn't have to lift a finger. there were many times where you had to wake him in the dead of the night, just to shyly ask him to run to the store for your off the wall cravings.

but ghost would always make sure that you were satisfied, gently pushing his fingers inside your wet pussy when you grew needy. or he’d lower himself to his knees and eating at you like a man starved. but he hasn't been overly intimate with you in a while, ever since you started getting later and later into your pregnancy. truth be told, ghost didn't want to hurt you, he would never forgive himself, especially if it was for something as superficial as his own pleasure. as long as you’re appeased, he’s happy.

right now, you're standing in front of your mirror, changing into your nightclothes. ghost silently watches as you do your little routine that takes longer and longer each day- it's the only thing he's not allowed to help you with. he's downright staring at you, that ethereal glow that usually surrounds you has increased tenfold.

and he can't take it anymore.

he hasn't been able to for the last couple of weeks, either. he excuses himself to your shared restroom, not missing your concerned glance towards him. he quickly locks the door behind him and stares at his own reflection. he runs a hand over his face, tired and rugged, so undoubtedly him.

he can feel how strained his pants are, lowering them just enough so his cock hits his abdomen. he braces a single hand on the porcelain sink, wrapping his hand around his painfully hard length. he stifles a groan, gradually beginning to set a slow pace.

and oh, ghost wishes that it was you. picturing your pretty face and familiar facial expressions as he drives his cock deep into you. he can practically feel your nails digging into the muscle of his back, creating deep crescent marks that fade away with time.

his head tips back as he swipes a thumb over his tip, pre-cum spilling forth. he's unable to contain the low groan that leaves him, pure euphoria shooting through his veins.

it's short lived as he hears a knock at the door.

"simon?" your light voice reaches his ears, sounding concerned, "you okay..?"

he hesitates before answering, not making a move to open the door. a slight sense of shame fills him as he makes eye contact with that glittering band on his ring finger.

"yeah, s'alright love."

you can tell he's lying.

"can you open the door for me?"

he can't tell you no, can he?

ghost quickly makes himself look decent before opening the door, allowing you to look at him. your eyes trail lower before returning back up into his honey and clouded eyes. and he damns your intuition, because he’s sure you knew what he was doing.

“wanna help you, simon.” your hand gently brushes against the noticeable bulge in his pants. he doesn’t know what kind of hold you have over him, but that small and singular touch from you has him reeling.

“don’t-“ he lets out a shaky breath at feeling you continue, “don’t wanna hurt you, sweet girl.”

he hears you laugh, such an addicting sound that graces his ears and repeats in his head. your hand laces with his and you lead him back to the bedroom, sitting him down on the large bed.

“you’ve been gentle before.” you take a seat atop his thighs and not facing him, your clothed cunt rubbing against his cock. he instinctively places his hands on your hips, watching as you turn around to look down at him with a warm smile. your hand reaches down to push all of his necessary clothing out of the way.

your hips rise as you move your own undergarments to the side, raising yourself further to sink down his cock. it’s been a while since he’s stuffed you so full of him, a quiet whimper leaving you while he’s full on moaning your name.

“fuck, fuck you feel so fuckin’ good love.” he assists you ride him, lifting you as if you weigh absolutely nothing. his voice is strained, and you know he’s holding back just for you and your well-being. it makes your heart swell as you lace a hand with his, holding it tightly.

ghost stares, utterly mesmerised as he watches your smaller body accommodate him inside of you. he feels your cunt squeeze him tightly, your free hand curling into the sheets. your sounds start to grow as you fervently chase after your own bliss- ghost not at all minding and just glad that you were comfortable enough.

ghost is usually very good at hiding his own sounds, normally quiet so he can hear you instead. but when you just feel so phenomenal around him, so snug, warm and tight around his cock- he can’t form a single coherent thought in his mind. his moans are low and guttural, muttering praises to you with every breath he can draw. it makes your head swim, not accustomed to seeing him like this, so desperate and overly infatuated with you.

but you can definitely get used to it.

#fanfic #smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #fem reader

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hades-in-bloom · 9 months

Text

Scars

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: thinking of Leon’s scars (with a little bit of touching).

warnings & contents: fluff; assumed older Leon (more of RE6 and Vendetta, although I keep using ID! to illustrate); could be age gap, could be none; lots of cuddling; mentions of violence (sorta); the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: a blurb, because I can. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: billie eilish — when the party’s over

***

Leon’s figure was resting on top of the bedsheets, his bare back exposed to one’s curious sight with his features relaxed, while he was catching up on hours of sleep he was deprived of this week; thanks to another one of those excruciating missions. You couldn’t hold back a small smile; he looked so peaceful, lying there with disheveled dirty blonde hair and not a glimpse of worry on his face—something you would die to see more often after everything he has endured.

You were doing your best to stay as quiet as humanly possible so you wouldn’t wake him up when your gaze got drawn to the network of scars, interspersed with moles, scattered across his pale skin. There were a couple of fresh bruises flourishing into purple and yellow blobs, too, adding to a rich picture. You winced like you could feel his pain. You’d never get used to seeing him this way—seeing him hurt.

Your touch was lighter than one of a feather when your fingers slid over one of his scars, tracing its shape slowly, with care. This one seemed to be old, fading away over the years, thus one of the rarest ones—as there were many more those anew, coming in different shapes and shades of pink. It didn’t matter, though, how many of them were on Kennedy’s body—you knew them all, keeping the count.

You pulled your hand away in a swift motion as you felt Leon stir. He was still half-asleep when he opened his eyes a crack, his gaze fixed on your features. You looked guilty.

“Hey,” he muttered hoarsely with a faint smile. He didn’t sound irritated—rather exhausted. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, sweetheart?”

You chuckled softly as you eliminated the distance between the two of you, and then rested your head on the edge of his pillow. His hand immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. You kept your voice barely above the whisper, hoping he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He hummed, “It’s okay,” with his eyes almost shut again, as his mind stayed in the half-place between awakeness and dreams. His thumb caressed your side mindlessly, soothing himself down.

You put your hands on his back in a kind of hug, feeling the bumps of his scars under your fingers.

“You have never told me their stories,” you said quietly, cradling him with your touch.

Leon’s body tensed slightly, his face now hidden in the crook of your neck. His warm and even breathing sent shivers down your spine.

The man became silent for a moment, taking his time before he replied, “I don’t believe these are stories that I should make you listen to.”

He preferred not to bring his work home.

You didn’t insist—you have always respected his choices. You left a kiss on his temple while Leon hugged you tighter.

“I’ll listen to anything you’d be willing to tell me, handsome.”

He smiled; you could feel his lips stretching out on the skin of your neck. It wasn’t a trust issue; Kennedy could tell that much—but he needed time to gather the courage to drag you into his waking nightmare.

“Maybe one day, sweetheart,” Leon sighed deeply, his tone calm as he admitted; his eyes now closed. “Maybe one day.”

You spent the next minutes running fingers through his hair until he drifted back into a blissful sleep.

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moonstruckme · 9 months

Note

i've found your account not too long ago and let me tell you i fell in love with your writing, could i request poly!marauders with reader where each one of them has a specific pet name that reader calls them, like for example reader screams from the kitchen 'honey' and then remus comes cause that's what she always calls him, and they all just love it so much that she gives them separate pet names

god i hope it makes sence hahah

have a good day xoxo

Ahh thanks lovely! No worries, this made perfect sense, and I'm a sucker for idiosyncratic pet names! Hope you like it and you have a good day too :)

poly!marauders x reader ♡ 378 words

“Shit,” you mutter as water hisses and sizzles on the hot stove, your pot boiling over. “Honey!”

“Yeah?” Remus calls from the next room. You can hear his footsteps heading your way.

“Can you stir the pasta for me, please? I’m not going to have the sauce ready in time if I stop to watch the pot.”

“‘Course, dove.” Remus squeezes your shoulder lightly as he goes by, the sizzling sounds quieting soon after.

“Thanks. Would you mind getting the table ready, bub?”

You hear the TV turn off as James stands. “On it.”

“Thanks!”

James comes into your small kitchen to collect the cutlery, and you and Remus both move, without having to look, to let him pass. This choreography is so familiar it feels nearly instinctive by now, the way the four of you move together, brushing past each other with affectionate touches and the occasional murmured direction. Sirius, evidently feeling left out, hops onto the counter beside your cutting board.

“Hey, love.” You glance at him with a smile before returning to your work. “I know you’re not a fan of tomatoes, so I’m thinking I could add those last and plate yours up before that. That sound alright?”

“Sounds perfect,” Sirius replies, ducking down to give you a quick kiss. “Thanks, angel.”

You know you’re smiling down at the tomatoes like an idiot, but you can’t help it. It’s just the way your face wants to be. “No problem.”

Once dinner is ready, you and Remus carry two plates each to the table, where James and Sirius are already waiting. “Fuck,” you hiss, tripping over something soft before righting yourself. “Sorry, baby.”

Three pairs of eyes snap to you quizzically, but you don’t notice, setting down the dishes before squatting under the table.

“Always underfoot, aren’t you?” You coo, petting your (thankfully unharmed) cat.

Sirius huffs a laugh, and there may even be a bit of relief in the sound. “Did you guys know who she was talking to?”

“Nope,” James says, shaking his head. “I thought one of us was getting a new one or something. I quite like them the way they are, though.”

“Honestly, dove, let’s keep the pet names for just us, yeah?” Remus teases. “Otherwise it could get competitive.”

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reiding-writing · 3 months

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REDDD ‼️ MAJOR CONGRATS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT AHHHH

may i request 1 & 7 from the general dialogue prompts with spencer reid please 🥹🫶

SENDING YOU KISSES ☝️🤭😚 XOXO

POOL ‘PARTY’ [CLIMACTERIC]

/pul ˈpɑːrti/

1. “Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”

7. “I don’t want anyone else.”

WARNINGS: based on 01x18, minor lila slander, spencer thinking of someone else whilst making out with lila, arguing

spencer reid x gn!reader || flangst || 1.9k Il climacteric event!!

a/n: THANK YOU ML <3333 enjoy me dabbling back into my angst game again, with a happy ending ofc 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

You approach Spencer with a raised eyebrow and a click of your tongue, eyes scanning over Spencer’s completely soaked appearance.

His eyes turn to you widened in surprise, but his expression quickly morphs into guilt as he meets your eyes. “I uh- fell in,”

“I’m sure there are plenty of photos of you ‘falling in’,” Your eyes narrow with a scoff, and you cross your arms over your chest in very clear disappointment at his recklessness.

“I- It really wasn’t meant to happen I swear-” You cut off Spencer’s attempt at an explanation by shoving a beach towel against his torso, and he lets out a small groan from the force.

“You have to be the stupidest person i’ve ever met.” Spencer flinches at your tone, hands wringing at the towel as he lowers his head.

He supposes he deserves the scolding, he’d broken so many rules of professionalism and put Lila’s life in danger.

The worst part was that he didn’t even enjoy it.

He’d ruined everything and didn’t even enjoy what he was risking everything for.

He truly was an idiot.

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology.” You cut him off with a hand raised in his direction. “If you want to apologise to someone, apologise to Lila, because you won’t be seeing her for the rest of the case.”

Lila’s name is dripping with venom as it rolls off your tongue, and Spencer presses his lips into a tight line with a small nod in your direction.

It’s a proportional punishment, but it’s not like he wanted to see her again anyway. Even the thought of what he’d done made him want to punch himself.

“I really didn’t-” He stops himself this time, knowing that you don’t want to hear his excuses. “I’ll… go change now…”

“There’s clothes in the SUV.” He sighs dejectedly at the coyness in your tone, and he swears he’ll cry if you keep this up.

“Right…” He gives you a soft nod, and you have half the mind to feel bad about the way you’re treating him, but for some reason the image of the two of them in the pool together fills you with some unforeseen, insurmountable rage that you can’t seem to suppress.

After he’s changed and dry, he reapproaches the front of the house cautiously. He knows that he probably won’t be allowed back inside, but he also doesn’t want to hang around the SUV looking like an idiot, he’d made himself a big enough one already.

You’re the only one still outside, standing with your arms crossed with your eyes following his movements through your narrowed gaze.

You were still angry with him. Great.

He didn’t want you to be angry with him. That was the last thing he ever wanted.

“I…” Spencer exhales softly as he comes up short on something to say. You didn’t want him to apologise. You didn’t want him to explain himself. What was he supposed to say?

You answer his question for him with one of your own. “Was it worth it?”

He flickers his eyes towards yours, guilt and regret written all over his features. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.”

Spencer can feel the tears prick at his eyes as your tone continues to wash over him like an ice-cold shower, and he takes a shuddered breath in through his mouth, clearing his throat and blinking rapidly to keep his gaze clear.

“I didn’t want to… I didn’t even enjoy it…” He frowns through glassy eyes and you crumble almost immediately. How are you supposed to be angry at him when he looks like that?

“Why did you do it?” Your voice is considerably softer this time, and as much as Spencer is grateful for it, it doesn’t stop a single tear from trickling down his face.

“I don’t know-” He sighs heavily as he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, running his other hand through the still damp mess of his hair.

He did know.

Kind of anyway.

He’d always prided himself on having a vivid imagination, one that he had been using during what happened with Lila.

And you could read his dishonesty immediately.

“Spencer.”

He knew he’d been caught. “I don’t want to talk about it,”

He crosses his arms over his chest defensively as he evades eye contact with you.

“Spencer.” You were going to get to the bottom of his reasoning behind breaking one of the cardinal rules of being an FBI agent.

“I was imagining that she was someone else okay?” He raises his voice slightly in his defensiveness, and you have to take a second to actually soak in his sentence and the implications of it.

“You- What?” You can do nothing but stare at him in a state of absolute shock at his confession.

“I was imagining that I was kissing somebody else…” He repeats his statement with much less vigour the second time around, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Does she know that?” You raise an eyebrow slightly as you ask your question. God knows you wouldn’t want to be kissing someone only to find out that they were thinking about somebody else the entire time.

“We had an argument about it before you guys turned up…”

So she did know. That made it a little better at least.

“So who was it then?”

Spencer turned his eyes back to yours again with a surprised expression. “What?-”

“Who were you thinking about?” You’re not sure exactly why you want to know who Spencer was thinking about during his little ‘pool party’, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t be satisfied with whatever answer you gave him, but some twisted part of your mind felt the need to know.

“I-” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. “You don’t need to know that,”

“Why not?” You furrow your eyebrows as his defensiveness escalates again. “What’s there to hide?”

“Maybe I just don’t want my personal life being aired to the people I work with?” He mirrors your expression with his own as he rubs his hands up and down his arms.

“Fine, keep your secrets then,” you say, a hint of frustration in your voice. “But just know, you can't keep messing up like this. It's not just about you.”

"I know that," he returns your frustration with his own. “But who I’m interested in is nobody’s business except my own.”

“Why are you so defensive about this?”

“Why do you want to know who it is so badly?”

The tension crackles between you two, each word adding fuel to the fire of the argument.

“Because,” you retort sharply, “I need to know if I can trust you. If your mind is somewhere else when you're supposed to be focused on the mission, it puts everyone at risk,”

Was that the real reasoning behind why you wanted to know so badly? No. But you didn’t exactly know what was.

Spencer's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You think I don't take this seriously? You think I don't care about the mission?”

“I don't know what to think anymore,” you admit, your voice softer now, but no less charged with emotion. “All I know is that you've been acting recklessly, and I can't afford to have that kind of distraction.”

“I'm not distracted,” Spencer protests, his voice tinged with desperation.

“You just verbally admitted to thinking about somebody else whilst making out with someone, that’s not distracted?” You gesture outwards exasperatedly. “We can’t be sure that you’ve got the right head in the game unless you say who you were thinking about.”

“It was you okay?” Spencer’s voice raises again as he throws out his arms in frustration. “Happy?”

You didn’t have the mental capacity to decide if you were happy.

You barely computed his answer in the first place. Were you happy that it was you? Was that the reason you pressed him so hard?

What on earth was happening?

“What-”

“Okay yeah, maybe I have a crush on you, so what?” Spencer continued to verbalise his defensiveness in exasperation. “It’s not like it was ever going to go anywhere.”

“You were thinking about me?” You still haven’t fully comprehended his confession yet, and Spencer mistakes your slowness for sarcasm.

“Yes. I was thinking about you. There’s no need to rub it in my face.” Spencer's frustration is palpable, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rests upon them.

But beneath the frustration, there's a vulnerability, a rawness that tugs at your heartstrings.

You realise then that this argument, this tension between you, it's not just about the mission or the case—it's about something deeper, something you've both been trying to ignore or brush aside.

"I'm not trying to rub it in your face," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... trying to understand."

“I mean-” You fumble over your sentences as you try to make sense of everything. “Why would you kiss somebody else? Why would you imagine it was me whilst you did it? I just- I don’t get it,”

“I don’t want anybody else. I never wanted anybody else. But what was I supposed to do?” Spencer sighs as he takes his fingers through his hair.

“Tell me?”

“And have you rip me to pieces? I’d rather spend my whole life as just your friend than risk something like that-” He doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence.

Your lips press against his hard, your hand anchored at the side of his neck as you take what you deem a reasonable action to get him to just stop talking for a second.

In your defence, it does work, all of Spencer’s frustration dying on his tongue as he slowly starts to reciprocate, his hands half-hesitantly coming up to cup your face so that he wouldn’t lose the contact with you even if you tried to pull away, which of course, you weren’t going to do unless strictly necessary.

He finally didn’t have to imagine what your lips would taste like anymore, and he wasn’t going to let the moment end before he got his fill of you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #climacteric 🪶

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lefty-scribes · 1 year

Text

sunflower

Summary: After coming home late from a stressful day at work, Spencer needs nothing more than to be in your arms in order to feel like himself again. You offer your touch to him in more ways than one.

melodramatic handjob :>

Word Count: 3423

Songs: ‘cry’ by cigarettes after sex may fit !!

Pairing: softdomme!reader x sub!spencer

Warnings: smut (18+ please), choking (m receiving), spencer cries xoxo, fully consensual but his reactions are described as ‘involuntary’ sometimes, sudden tense switch at the end bc it felt right idk, 65% buildup, 15% action, 20% orgasm LOL

a/n: guys the transition from comfort to seggsy just happened out of nowhere and the pacing is aggressively slow, prob making this hard to get off to. i’m sorry. also if you don’t think you should be reading this (🔞) you’re probably right ?? but please don’t tell me about it. do comment anything else though if you're feeling up to it :3

With a twist of his hand on the doorknob and a step through the door, Spencer took his long awaited whiff of home. It smelled of cedarwood and floral candles and you, and the tension released from his shoulders completely for the first time today.

He walked straight to the bedroom where he knew you’d still be up waiting for him, door open with a lit bedside light to welcome him despite his insistence that your sleep is more important. The urge didn’t even come up to wash his hands, disinfect his phone, or sanitize his work bag, being replaced instead by his desire to be in your presence.

As he’d suspected, there you were, sitting up on the bed you shared, eyes fighting to stay open as they flitted through the pages of a book. The comforter covered your legs, and only a thin sleep shirt separated your back from the headboard you leaned against, the shape of your nipples hardly poking through. Spencer hesitated to walk in and ruin the pretty picture.

When you noticed him, a fond smile grew on your face and you dropped your book to open your arms wide for him. He slowly walked over to you, stomach twisting just a little at the fear of being a bother, and started to position himself as he did whenever he needed a bit of extra comfort. He gave you a quick peck and settled down so his head rested on your lap, lying down on his side with his arm hugging your bare thighs. His long frame curled sideways by your legs under the blanket. He said nothing when you combed your fingers through his hair—just held you a bit tighter; nuzzled his cheek impossibly closer.

You broke the silence, absentmindedly separating small locks of his hair now with your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” you asked, to which he shook his head, movement still restricted by your thighs on his cheek, hating that he didn’t have more to say. Hated to have to make you pry just to hear about his day, but all the more in awe of how attuned you were to his emotions—even more than he was sometimes. Hated being moody and uncommunicative, but his brain was betraying him.

Your thumb now stroked his eyebrow, smoothing it out. Every part of him that your fingers touched relaxed in its wake, coupled with the scent of your lotion and laundry into his breaths. He finally spoke up, voice slightly muddled from his cheek against your leg; perhaps he sounded like his handwriting would sound, though he hoped he was more understandable than that.

“Per hour of sleep we lose, human blood pressure tends to increase by 3 to 5 millimeters of mercury, so you waiting up for me this late probably already caused an increase of 10 mmHg. Cortisol levels can also increase by up to 80% when sleep deprived, and your reaction time can slow by up to 500 milliseconds, which will make it more unsafe for you to drive tomorrow.” I appreciate you so much, baby, but you shouldn’t have waited up, is what he wanted to say. It never came out that way. I love when you greet me. Don’t put your health at risk for me. I’m sorry I’m late. But it always came out instead as numbers and statistics because that’s all he knows how to do, and it’s the only way his voice knows how to love, but you get it. He wants to add more.

You get him. “Stop worrying, Spence. I need to see you just as much as you need to see me. Can’t sleep otherwise,” you assured him. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you rubbed slow, pressured circles onto his forehead, massaging him properly now. Maybe your words were supposed to make him feel better, but he couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut. His burden complex weighed heavier today.

“My Spencer,” you breathed. Heat rose onto his cheeks. Your Spencer. “What do you need from me?”

He laid still on your lap, face now turned upward to memorize your own, pondering on the question. Always too scared to ask, though he knew what he needed. “Anything you’ll give me,” he whispered.

Now freshly dried from his shower, Spencer walked toward where you stayed sitting on the bed just as you had been when he arrived. He stood completely bare before you, an unlikely mix of both self-consciousness and pride filling him as you looked him up and down. The implied power imbalance of your clothed decency juxtaposed with his nude vulnerability has just occurred to him; he felt a rush in his stomach.

You pulled the covers off and spread your legs apart, then patted the space in between. Spencer crawled onto the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to shake it too much, now unsure of how long he could last. He found a seat between your thighs, the outer edge of his legs lining the inner side of your own, his back flush against your torso.

Goosebumps rose on his skin when your hands trailed up his neck, grazing his ears, then his cheekbones, to comb themselves through his soft hair. He shivered, just once. His mouth parted slightly in a shaky exhale and his head lolled back toward you, as a cat would, until it rested gently on your shoulder, full trust in you to support him. His eyelashes fluttered to a close as you slowly but firmly squeezed your fingers into a closed fist against his scalp, hair tangled within your grasp, letting the leverage of your palms against his head do the tugging. Despite the tightness of the skin around his temples, his facial muscles only continued to relax as he silently handed you all control of him. He released a shallow gasp as you gave your wrists a slow twist before releasing his hair entirely.

You slid your fingers down to his nipples, running your thumbs over them each for not long enough. He let out a sigh that must’ve released more air than his lungs had the capacity to carry in the first place. The stresses of the day began to leave with it, Spencer being overcome instead by the relief of being back in the comfort of his own home—in the arms of his beloved. Your hand was cool against his humid skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ears ringing, he hardly heard his own voice releasing a shaky, dragged out, sh— shhhit, between gritted teeth.

Your hands trailed down even further toward his soft stomach which was scrunched into a bean-like mound from his position against you, grazing down his happy trail before ignoring his painful erection and inching toward his thighs instead. Your nails dragged gently over his inner thighs and he pried them open for you; all for you.

He whined under his breath and his legs flexed under your touch, only the duration of a single twitch, lifting his hips up subconsciously to contact your hands where he needed them most. You gently pushed him back down, wordlessly insisting on giving attention to his soft thighs, asserting that it was your pace being followed. And he couldn’t object. He didn’t want to. Always so patient with him, he longed for you to be proud of his obedience. His thighs were yours to touch, after all, and so was what rested now painfully hard between them.

His head still laying against your shoulder, you gently swiped your tongue against his ear lobe, getting his attention. You whispered to him, and he was so receptive to you. “Do you think you’re ready?”

He didn’t need to see it to know, but he glanced down anyway, his cheeks burning up to a colour he imagined matched his throbbing penis. He ached to be touched there, swallowing at the thought.

He hummed lazily in response, already lightheaded from the rush in his head. He tilted his head in slow roll to place clumsy kisses all over your face, whatever part of it he could reach, nodding continuously to please touch me, I’m ready. He thought his lips had caught your nose, cheekbones, ear, jaw… but at that point he’d already been intoxicated by your touch and couldn’t tell the difference; only wanted to taste the saltiness of your supple skin.

“Words, Spence.” With his head still turned to you, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped at it until it puffed up, drawing a light whimper from him. He arched his neck sideways to grant you access to the rest of him that your lips and teeth could reach. More of him now exposed to you, he quietly pleaded as you lightly sucked on sensitive points behind his jaw. A lone tear slipped out of his eye closest to you, and you lapped it up as it hung from his jaw.

“Ready. Always ready for you,” he choked, voice already hoarse. Your ability to take him to the clouds far before touching the most sensitive part of him only turned him on further, as well as the nurturing and patient but complete control you exerted. He was undeserving and yet eternally grateful. Swore to himself he’d spend the rest of his days trying to love you as completely as you did him.

Upon squeezing out some lubricant from the bottle in your bedside drawer, you grasped his erection in your slick hand, your other hand exploring the rest of his body, and he gasped with an unintentional jolt. From this position you two were in, it allowed the ridges of your curled palm and fingers, as well as the coolness of your wedding ring, to make full contact with the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock.

You played him like an instrument, and the sounds he made proved nothing less. You’d glide your sharp knuckles over him, barely making contact with him, much to his protest; your hand would run along the thin, elastic stretch of skin connecting his head to the underside of his cock. Or you’d bunch your delicate fingertips together at his tip, letting the widening of his cock separate them as you pushed down toward his balls. He almost wished, as the pads of your fingers trailed his length, that your fingerprints could be ingrained in his skin, if only to be claimed by you even more. His breaths grew laboured and he slowly lost the shame in his whimpers.

Your other hand moved to his lips, muffling his sounds slightly. Your breath tickled his ears, and he threw an arm back to grasp your hair or neck or whatever he could grab, trying fruitlessly to get closer for you to ground him.

He whined helplessly against your now vibrating hand, though it did nothing to quiet his volume as you so creatively played with his cock, fidgeting with him and using him like nothing. Tension was prominent between his eyebrows sewn together, and surely his forehead carried a few creases as well.

You gently ran your thumb against his bottom lip, and he instinctively pulled it into his mouth. Your thumb pushed degradingly against the inside of his cheek, forcing his mouth to open slightly. His tongue circled your thumb out of habit, and the slightest bit of spit dribbled out the corner of his lips.

The room started to smell and feel like sweat, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was experiencing everything and nothing all at once, sensations heightened yet brain numbed. Rare were the occasions that he couldn’t explain everything, and the times where he couldn’t think straight, but he revelled in it. Nowhere else was Spencer able to be completely defenseless and equally safe but in your arms—or hands, in this case. His guard wholeheartedly down, he cherished the privilege of being worriless and thoughtless.

His brain’s unusual absence of words and knowledge—two things which he so dutifully guarded just to feel competent—was welcomed because you were around to protect his vulnerability in the meantime.

By now, from the sweat or his own sheer lack of control, Spencer had slid down slightly so his shoulder blades were flush with your breasts; your hard nipples pressed against him through the soft silk of your nightshirt and it reminded him how eager he was to return the favour. He was leaning back a bit more, hardly noticing the ache from his weight resting on his tailbone.

The position gave you access to move your working hand even lower, gentle fingers starting to toy with his balls before moving down toward the sensitive patch of skin right beneath. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when you hit it, hums and groans gradually increasing in pitch. Against his own will, he clenched around nothing, causing his perineum to shift against your fingers. He choked out another embarrassingly loud sound, mouth shamelessly open now, and then did it again.

You kissed his jaw. “How do you feel?” you whispered. You gave more attention to the pink head now, fingers tickling his smooth tip, thumb pressing down periodically on the ridges. Your other hand played with hair.

“You treat me so well,” he breathed, as earnestly as he could, turning his head to give a sloppy kiss to your wrist, drunk on your touch, your warmth, and you. “Love you so much,"—he swallowed—"ah— oh, f— fuck— Love what you do to me.”

“You deserve it all.”

His moans got more high pitched as you worked, and his breaths came in faster than his chest could keep up with. His hands grasped at your thighs to steady himself, blunt nails digging in.

“My Spencer baby, you look oh so beautiful,” you praised, voice dripping in sheer adoration. His eyes drew open and his gaze rolled back, then lazily toward you. Another tear slowly escaped the corner of his eye, and he wished he weren’t tearing up if only to see your pretty face more clearly. His eyebrows were still tense under the nearness of his undoing, tilted in a pleading pout.

“Please, please-please-please-please-plea— mmngh…” He pleaded and begged for release, no longer making sense of what was coming out of his mouth, eyes ever-downturned and watering once again.

He was helplessly putty in your hands, his body no longer his own, but rather a shell of just euphoria and feeling. He was floating and completely at your mercy, just as he loves to be.

“I love you, please, I—” His sentences grew choppy and more and more incoherent, his speech being mixed with unintelligible throaty noises. His chest rose and fell significantly faster than it had earlier, lips hardly separating as he mumbled a yesyesyesyes keep going yes just like that please, and his hips thrusted up to move his length further into your hand.

His desperate hands sought purchase from whatever they could grab, now tightly squeezing and scratching at your thighs. He readjusted his sweat-slicked palms as they slipped down your skin.

Your hand in his hair slid down roughly to grab his jaw in utter possessiveness, twisting it up toward you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He did the best he could to return it. “Go ahead, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He whimpered into the kiss, with no more capacity to spare you an audible ‘thank you’ as usual. You squeezed your working hand just the slightest bit tighter around his cock, working your way back up to his ever-sensitive pink head.

“Shitshitshitshit, fuck, oh, God. I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so—ah—” How naughty he felt. Maybe you’d tease him later about the junk coming out of his mouth, flustering him with the thought of what the neighbours would think. But as a sunflower proved its affinity to the sun and its warmth, all he could do now was gaze at you mindlessly, his neck aching at the effort. Under the dim yellow lamp lighting up the room, he embodied the sunflower’s golden glow. Its face would follow the bright star by nature and so would Spencer's, happily compelled by some force of nature to show you his authentic self as he held on so close to his orgasm. You smiled at him.

The bed squeaked under his shaking legs. Lone tears made their way down his face, free-falling now, and he made no move to wipe them. As he neared his peak, you kept your hand on his cock, hand wrapped snugly around his tip, angling it toward his chest.

You grabbed his throat with the other, fingers squeezing inward toward the two valleys around his neck that carried his precious arteries, and he felt the first spurt of cum burst through with a loud wail of surprise.

“Baby—“ he tried breathlessly, eyes still attempting to meet yours to please understand what I’m saying, please be proud of me, “baby, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, I’m…” His muscles spasmed and sharply leaned him forward, causing your hand to obstruct his throat just a bit more, and he was thankful for it if only to ground his shaking to a minimum.

His head was pounding and his vision grew spotty as he basked in the feeling of his life, and his penis, in your hands, and the purpose with which you handled him as he prayed for this state of euphoria to not simply kill him. Though that wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, yet still saw only white. He was burning up and held no sense of himself as his muscles twitched in waves, knees buckling, though you were there to hold him through it all. His mouth opened in a silent scream as you continued moving your hand along his sensitive length.

His panting gradually became less breathy and more audible, now backed by a throaty groan with every breath he released. Your name became the only thought in his mind, and he let it shakily slip out of his mouth, not caring how absolutely brainless he sounded. With each spurt of his release onto his chest, each involuntary clenching and thrust of his hips, he repeated it. Whether a cry of pleading, gratitude, or adoration, he wasn’t certain—but it all centred around you.

You talked him through the final stages of his orgasm with gentle murmurs of praise, pushing his hips down to forcefully guide him through it. Good boy, Spencer. Keep going. I’m right here. You got it. You’re doing great. Almost done. I love you. You’re so safe here. Your ministrations on his sensitive penis didn’t slow as you patiently waited for him, though he had to rest his hand on your wrist to slow you down, eyes finally falling closed; you obliged. His body offered you one final tremor of overwhelming pleasure.

The horrors of the day seemed to have been released with his release. But with the way you were now atop him, cleaning up the mess on his chest with your tongue, then crawling back up to his own mouth to offer him a taste, he felt his once-against stiffening cock asking for more where that came from. His aftercare be damned. No longer overwhelmed by his need for solace, this new rise of arousal was geared toward you—thanking you, loving you, cherishing you, pleasuring you in the way his words so often failed to do.

He would do for you what you had so generously done for him, and more, if you’d let him. He could give you his tongue, his length, his fingers, a toy—or whatever you wanted. Offer himself to be used and taken however you pleased. Longed to give you everything he could. He was yours, after all.

Spencer told himself that there would be time for all that, though he always worried otherwise. Keeps it in his head, but he pleads every day that you wouldn’t end up like those he sought justice for at work, or be the body that haunted him until he arrived home to you, or the victim of a target aimed at him. Pleads every day that there would be more time.

But in the meantime, with not much else he can do, just as a sunflower would, he swears to turn his back to everything else dark about the world and follow his sun as long as he is able.

1K notes · View notes

gojocumeater · 5 months

Text

Warm hands

꒰ genre ⤑ SMUT

꒰ warnings ⤑ CRINGE , f.reader x college boyfriend!gojo, dom!gojo, sub!reader, swearing, hand kink, teasing, touching in public (with consent obv) , orgasm denial, finger sucking, fingering, choking, dirty talk, marking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, penetration, rough sex, pet names, size kink, big dick!gojo (act surprised), praising, creampie, cockwarming

꒰ words count ⤑ 3.4K

꒰ A/N : hi hi, here's a little something I wrote awhile ago. I'll finish editing it later, I wanted to post it tonight so it's a bit rush. I hope you'll like it. Thank you for reading my last fics, I really appreciate it. (lil reminder, English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes). PLEASE DON'T BE A SILENT READER, FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED! xoxo - sunny

M RATED

Satoru's hands were one of the many things you liked the most about him. They’re so attractive, so delicate in their ways…

You were sat in front of him, at this cute little café you went after every courses to either study, spend time with your friends or most of the time with your lovely boyfriend.

For some unknown reasons, you couldn’t take your eyes off his beautiful hands. You thought about the way his veins were prominent sometimes when his fingers are tapping swiftly over the keyboard of his laptop or the way his hands looked when he cooks, writes or the way he mindlessly plays with the pen between his long fingers when he’s daydreaming. It made you feel some type of ways..

It made you think about how it feels when he places them on your hips when he’s standing behind you, or when he caresses your sides when you’re cuddling, or the way his fingers move insid-

“Y/n?”

Your eyes were glued on Satoru's hands as he grabbed his soft drink to take a sip from it, “y/n?” he called out softly again.

You were too into your, perhaps weird thoughts, that you slightly jumped when he grabbed your hand gently “oh” he chuckled, his pretty smile making your heart melt.

“Where are you?” he asked still smiling, “huh?” your confused face making him laugh. “well, I was talking but you weren’t listening."

You’ve probably been staring at him weirdly..

He squeezed your hand softly making you gulp, your gaze dropping to his veiny hands again making you sigh deeply. “you good?” he asked concerned this time.

“y-yea yea don’t worry. So what were you talking about?” You cleared your throat before offering him a small smile.

“so I was saying, while I was working on my essay earlier I’ve-…”

and again, your eyes dropped down his large hands, fingers tapping softly on the table as he explained whatever he was saying.

Satoru stopped talking, looking at you suspiciously “so that’s how I choked Suguru, I shoved a living fish into his throat. What do you think about it?” he stared at you intensely waiting for you to reply.

"oh yea ..yea I agree! Of course.“ you cleared your throat again looking back up at him.

Satoru sighed before dragging his chair closer to yours "baby tell me what’s wrong?“ he pushed some strands of hair behind your ear.

He laid his warm hand gently on top of your thigh making goosebumps raised under his touch.

Your boyfriend didn’t miss the way you shivered. Your heart started beating faster as you watched him realize why you were so absent.

Satoru chuckled as you turned your face away from him.

”so you’re horny, is that it?“

”Shut up! you’re talking so loud.” you hid your embarrassed face behind your hands.

Your boyfriend decided to tease you a bit “so.. my hands huh?” he whispered, his fingertips slowly dancing on your thigh.

”are you always turn on everytime you look at them? Huh?“ He murmured into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin.

He leaned his body onto your side, his large hand grabbing the flesh softly. “Or when I do this.” his fingers teasingly sliding closer to where you needed him. He smirked when you suddenly grab his hand stopping him from going higher.

“Satoru.” you warned him quietly “we’re in public."

He sighed releasing his hand from your grip before placing it again on the top of your thigh. He looked into your eyes deeply, drawing random little patterns on the smooth skin.

“tell me if you want me to stop.” he whispered before kissing your cheek.

His fingers danced their way up to your panties slowly looking at you for any sign of disapproval. You gasped when the tip of his finger came in contact with your lightly covered clit. You put your hand in front of your mouth, cheeks warming up. The idea of getting caught in a public place doing such “daring” stuff made you feel lightheaded.

You lowered your head watching as his hand disappeared under your skirt. You spread your legs a little making room for his hand to slide between your thighs.

Satoru applied a light pressure on the throbbing pearl, the feeling making a soft moan pass by your lips. Your surroundings long forgotten now.

He moved his fingers in circle on the little bud making you bit on your bottom lip to stay silent. Your panties now damp at how turned on you were.

“f-fuck.” you breathed out.

You started feeling the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach as he rubbed faster. “S-Satoru.” you whimpered softly ”I’m close."

Satoru retracted his hand as he grab his drink to sip on it.

“A-are you serious?” you whined disappointed, your climax vanishing.

“Sorry I was thirsty.” he smirked before grabbing his bag and yours from the floor as he stood up. You looked up at him confused.

He held his hand out for you to take it “let’s get out of here. We’re going to my dorm. I’ll take care of you properly there.” he bit his lip teasingly, a smile plastered on his face as you laughed.

You gasped as your back hit the wall, Satoru closed the front door shut with his foot not wanting to break the long kiss you started from the elevator.

The drive from the café was fast when you think about it, much more faster than usual.

He threw the car keys onto the counter, your arms still wrapped around his neck. You hummed as his large hands stroked your sides gently.

"we’re lucky Suguru is not here." Satoru muttered before grinning as he peeked toward the living room, the tv turned off and the balcony’s doors locked.

Usually when, Suguru, his roommate and his best friend was here, the tv would be playing some series, the balcony doors would be wide open. Some snacks would be all over the table accompanied with either two or three empty cans of beer, and not forgetting his bottle of water "to stay hydrated" like he always says.

You both took your shoes off before entering the "dorm" - which looked more like a nice apartment. Satoru helped you with your things, putting your coat on the chair with your school bag.

"let’s go to my room." he said grabbing your hand gently in his, guiding you to his bedroom.

He opened his door slowly revealing his "not-so-neat" room.

"I’m sorry." he scratched the back of his head embarrassed "I didn’t clean my room this week... yet."

You chuckled "it’s not that bad… compared to the last time I came over." you reminded making him scoff.

"well, m’aam it wasn’t my fault." he glared at you.

"oh yea.. we’re gonna say it’s Haibara's dog fault huh." you crossed your arms over your chest making Satoru grin.

"exactly!"

"so you’re saying that when you brought his dog here he drunk cola and just left the empty cans on the floor? Or he just put a pile of dirty clothes on a chair? homework papers laying everywhere but on the desk? Or-"

"ok enough!" he pushed his tongue on the inside of his cheek knowing well he’s putting his bad habits on the poor dog’s back.

"I decided to have good habits now. See! I put the dirty clothes in the basket there." he pointed toward the basket full of clothing next to the connected bathroom’s door.

You nodded "so it’s, perhaps time to do the laundry.. it’s kind of full." you looked back at him.

Satoru smirked "well, not as full as you’re gon-"

"argh shut up!" you rolled your eyes cheeks burning.

"oh, you’re shy now darling?" he teased as he bumped your nose.

"you not funny." you pouted making his heart melt, you were just so cute when you’re embarrassed.

"gosh you’re so cute, come here." he pulled you to him by your hips, bending down a little so he could rest his forehead on yours.

"I can’t wait to ruin you." he said lowly, his hand caressing your cheek softly as he looked into your eyes.

You gulped at the sudden change of attitude. He was just so hot.

Satoru licked his lips, before enveloping yours in a loving kiss.

"I love you." he whispered.

"I love you." you smiled.

He backed you slowly toward the bed until the back of your knees touched the edge of it. He laid you gently on the mattress, the soft sheets welcoming you before he hovered over you.

"now I have you all to myself." he stared down at you with his cerulean eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth. His arms rested on each sides of your head as he bent down to kiss your neck making you sighed pleasantly.

Satoru nipped at the smooth skin, leaving little reddish marks. Your hands went to grab on his broad shoulders as his lips travelled down to your collarbone biting on it, not too hard but enough to make you moan as you gripped harder on his shoulders.

"fuck, you like it when I bite you?" he asked looking up at you as you avoid eye contact.

"you’re really something huh." he smirked, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt "can I take it off ,darling?"

You just whispered a quiet "yes." as he didn’t lose time and threw the shirt away, his hands going down to your skirt looking up at you again, a silent request for your consent to get rid of it too.

"please." you whined impatient.

He complied again, the clothe landing somewhere on the carpeted floor.

"fuck." he sighed lowly.

"look at you." his eyes wandering over your body "you’re so fucking pretty."

His fingers grazed over the lacy bra, your cheeks heating up as he stare down at you in awe.

Satoru breathed deeply before kissing down your chest, lips caressing gently on the unmarked skin of your breasts. He peppered soft little kisses down to your stomach before biting on the soft flesh, making you grab on his white locks.

"Satoru." you moaned breathlessly.

"yes, my love?" he licked over the reddish spot on your tummy, eyes locking with yours as he looked up at you.

"I want you." you whispered impatiently.

"you do?" He raised his eyebrow teasingly as his beautiful fingers dance over the delicate skin of your stomach.

"tell me what you want baby." he asked seductively.

"your... your fingers." you closed your eyes feeling dizzy already. Just the thought of his fingers buried deep inside of you, made you close your legs.

"ditching my dick for my fingers now?" he chuckled making you cover your flustered face.

"but I don’t mind, if I still can satisfy you." his fingers slid down between your legs as he spread your thighs for him.

His fingertips came in contact with your covered clit making you whimper, the light pressure making you lose your mind again.

"hmm, you like that?" he pressed a bit harder making you sigh.

He suddenly drew his hand back and raised it in front of your face "suck." he ordered, tapping his fingers teasingly on your lips.

Satoru knew how to turn you on because, you were so damn horny right now.

"C’mon, open up princess." you felt your heart beating faster at the nickname.

You opened your mouth slowly allowing him to slide three digits inside "now suck."

You complied, your lips tightening around his long digits. Your saliva wetting them as your tongue swipe over them.

You moaned furrowing your eyebrows as he pushed them deeper.

"such a good girl for me." he praised before retracting his hand, a faint trail of saliva still connecting your lips with his fingers.

"You love my fingers that much?" he asked, thumb sliding over your bottom lip. You just stared up at him, no words daring to come out.

"cats got your tongue, hun'?" he tilted his head to the side chuckling.

"lost of words and I didn’t even fuck you with my fingers yet." he sighed, acting disappointed.

Satoru smirked as he glided his hand down your body before dragging your panties down your legs. He caressed your thigh up to your core before pressing his fingers on your glistening lips, before entered two fingers inside you making you close your legs around him.

"tsk, open those pretty legs for me love." he glared at you. You swore you could had cummed right on the moment, the effect he has over you was insane.

He started thrusting slowly inside you as he spread your legs again.

"you’re so good baby, swallowing my fingers like that, gosh you’re so hot." he muttered.

He moved faster making you grip the sheets as you felt your high coming already.

“I’m close!" you whimpered loudly.

Satoru rubbed his thumb on your clit, almost pushing you to the edge but just before you could come, he pulled his hand away, your orgasm vanishing. You looked at him, tears in your eyes as he stole your second orgasm of the day.

"why? why would you!?” you glared at him.

"don’t look at me like that, princess." he warned.

"but why?" a tear rolled down your cheek as you felt like you’ve been overstimulated. You wanted- you needed to come so bad.

"don’t cry pretty girl." he stroked your cheek, wiping the tear with his thumb.

"I didn’t want you to cum on my fingers, i want you to cum around my dick, baby.”

He got off you, standing before you to take his shirt off maintaining eye contact.

He extended his hand for you to take it, helping you sit down. He placed your hands on his belt and you got the hint as you started unbuckle it. Satoru helped you pushing his pants down his muscular legs as your eyes met the painfully confined bulge in his boxer.

He got rid of the garments covering him from you, discarding it away on the pile of clothes on the floor. You looked away feeling a bit hot as he stood there proudly naked with no shame.

"is my princess shy again?" he chuckled, his smile making your heart melt.

"look at me." he asked gently lifting you chin up "listen carefully." you nodded waiting for him to continue.

"I’m gonna fuck you dumb, my love." he bent down kissing you, his hands coming behind your back to unhook your bra.

Satoru laid you down again, spreading your legs to make room for him to lay between them.

"You look so pretty like that under me." he smiled admiring your flustered face, laying one of his hand on your bare waist.

He lowered himself more, his head buried into the crook of your neck as he started leaving little wet kisses making you turned your head to the side giving him more access.

"'toru." you whined as he teased your entrance with the tip of his erection.

He placed one your leg over his waist, rutting forward against your core making you moan loudly "stop teasing!"

"you no fun baby." he pouted making you roll your eyes.

"please." you pleaded just wanting to feel him as he kept on rubbing his erection between your glistening lips.

"As you wish y/n." he slapped the head of his cock on your throbbing clit making you hiss before penetrating you slowly making sure to not hurt you. You threw your head back into his pillow, gripping on his shoulders as he bottomed out.

"you good?" he made sure you weren’t uncomfortable "tell me whenever you want me to stop." he reminded, making your nod.

Satoru licked your jawline before sucking softly on the skin leaving little marks.

"you’re so- fuck." you whimpered at the painful yet delicious stretch, his hips moving carefully slow.

He picked up the pace making you clenched around him. He groaned into your neck, his grip on your thigh tightened as he adjusted it higher on his hip, the new position helping him hit deeper.

"you feel so good princess."

"you take me so well." he moaned as he felt you scratch his back.

He looked down between your bodies, grabbing your hand guiding it down to press it on the bulge in your lower stomach.

"look at you.. so small we can see my cock." he breathed out, his words making goosebumps raised all over your skin.

You arched your back off the bed as he hit deeper "Satoru! I'm so close." you breathed out, eyes closed.

"fuck! Look at me. Look at me when I’m making you feel good." He asked, his hand travelling up to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat. He applied a light pressure enough to make you lightheaded.

You opened your eyes meeting his lustful ones. You wanted to look away, his stare making you feel small under him.

"you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?" he snapped his hips into yours making you cry his name out.

Satoru couldn’t take his eyes off your face. You looked so pretty under him, forehead covered with little beads of sweat, eyes half-open, moaning his name loudly.

"oh my- don’t stop! Right there!" your boyfriend bit on his bottom lip, the flesh turning white. Your fingernails were buried deep into the flesh of his scratched back.

"You feel so good." He groaned loudly as he felt you tighten around him "so warm and f-fuck!"

You threw your head back as you felt the oh-so-familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I’m so close." you moaned grabbing on his bicep.

"I got you baby." he kissed your lips, his hand traveling down your bodies until it reached your bud of nerves. He drew little circles on your clit with his thumb lazily making you arch your back off the mattress.

You looked down, mouth ajar, at his fingers, the way his veins were prominent on his hand. You bit on your lip, pleasure getting unbearable.

"Satoru!" you cried out loudly as you came around him.

The way your walls kept on convulsing around him push him closer to his climax as he dropped his head on your chest, his breathing unsteady. Satoru didn’t take much time to come inside you, his warm cum filling you up to the brim. You pulled harshly on his white hair as he rode your orgasm.

He collapsed on your sweaty body, his head buried into the crook of his neck.

"damn." he said after a few minutes making you both laugh.

"yea damn." you caressed the back of his head.

"that was awesome." he hummed satisfied against your skin.

"I agree." you hummed closing your eyes.

Satoru was about to pull out but you hug him.

"let’s stay like this for a moment … please?" you asked timidly.

"I’d love to." he smiled against your skin.

"I love you 'Toru" you kissed his forehead earning a cute smile from your boyfriend whom look up at you.

"I love you" he hugged your body tightly.

—

"should we tell them?" Shoko asked Suguru.

The dark haired boy man paused the game before putting his controller down on his desk "what? that we’ve been here the whole time?"

Shoko shrugged "he’s your roommate. I’d tease him if I was you." she smirked.

"you’re saying this like he’s not your friend too." Suguru laughed.

"I don’t live here. But well, I don’t mind teasing them. I'll tease y/n later when we will be in our apartment." she smirked before getting up from the floor, throwing her cigarette outside by the window.

"Shoko! the ashtray is just over there." he pointed desperately toward the small receptacle, he bought especially for her, placed on the window's edge.

Suguru shook his head disappointed.

"where are you going?" he asked confused following his short best friend.

"oh yes! yes! y/n! you're doing so well." Shoko yelled from the living room with a -bad -imitated- deep voice "you’re so good ahhh".

Suguru fell on the couch laughing at his friend "stop it or he’ll whine about it all day."

"the fuck!?" they heard Satoru opening his bedroom’s door.

Suguru looked at Shoko trying not to laugh but failing as they both see the shirtless man standing before them.

"you guys are so dead. See you both later." he glared at them before returning to his room, leaving his best friend dying from laughing.

240 notes · View notes

ranhaitanisgf · 5 months

Note

could i request headcanons for rindou looking after a fem reader who is recovering from getting sick (ie: more tired than normal, kinda grumpy, still dealing w headaches/congestion or more generic symptoms) ? i am recovering from COVID and i need rindou to look after me so bad LOLL

sickness begone!!

synopsis: how would rindou act with an s/o recovering from sickness?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ hiii thank you for requesting!! :3 i was wanting to make this a bit longer but i couldn't think of anything else D: i hope it's alright and that everyone enjoys !! xoxo [just as a note, i unintentionally didn't end up using any gendered specifications, so this is gender neutral! i hope you dont mind ╥﹏╥]

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ rindou haitani x g/n!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 1.4k+

masterlist

❥ rindou is the number one complainer. he isn’t complaining about having to take care of you, no, he’s complaining about how stupid you are for getting sick. it’s an extremely annoying thing to hear when you’re already not feeling well, but it’s his own way of showing that he cares about you!

“how did you even get this sick? you need to take better care of yourself.” “how ‘m i supposed to know…” “you need to be more careful.” “yep.” “are you listening to me?” “just give me the damn glass of water.”

❥ he’s actually quite unsure of how to take care of someone who is ill, so he ends up calling his brother for help, asking what he’s supposed to do, (‘aniki, they're burning up, what do i do?’ ‘you don’t know what to do when someone’s sick? you don’t know anything at all?’ ‘i’m hanging up.’ ‘no, no, ‘m sorry, i’ll help you.’).

❥ when he gets the basic rundown from ran and gets all the supplies he needs, he does his best to try and make you feel better! he doesn’t really say anything the whole time, just squinting at the directions on all the little packages, muttering about how ‘these words are too damn small…’.

❥ he’s surprisingly soft though, his worry for you taking over his usual snarkiness. he’ll gently brush your hair out of your face and will periodically wipe any sweat away from your face with a damp cloth, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. he’ll stay by your bedside for almost the whole time you are there, watching over you and making sure that everything is alright, (he also insists on helping you walking to the bathroom or kitchen even if you can walk completely fine).

❥ does not care if you bitch and moan about the bitter taste of the medicine. you will be taking it, no matter what.

❥ he makes sure to check your temperature regularly, letting out an annoys tsk when he notices that your temperature is still high, (might curse out whatever virus that is tormenting your body at the moment).

❥ his snarkiness immediately comes back when you start to get better, though it comes in the form of nagging like an old grandma.

“hey, why’re you going out?” “‘m going to get decongestant.” “stupid, don’t go by yourself. stay here, i’ll go.”

❥ he just does it because he cares, so don’t get too annoyed with him!

❥ he secretly compares you to a lazy cat when he sees you lounging around your apartment, sprawled out all over the sofa or even just on the floor, (of course, he will never voice this, but he thinks it's rather cute). sometimes if you’ve ended up falling asleep there, he will snap a few pictures because he thinks you’re absolutely adorable!

❥ i think that rindou knows what it’s like to get bad headaches since having bad vision can sometimes cause them, so he understands what you’re going through when you complain of having a pounding pain in your temples. without any sort of explanation, he’ll tell you to lay down with him in bed or on your couch and he’ll gently massage your temples, doing his best to help ease your pain, (if you try to tease him or bring it up later, he will pretend like he has no idea what you’re talking about).

❥ when you snap at him while you’re recovering, he’ll either completely ignore you or will call you an idiot and then will continue whatever he was doing. either way, he won’t ever get upset with you and he won’t snap back either since he knows that you’re not really in your right mind.

❥ rindou likes to sleep, (not as much as ran) but he will stay up for however long you can’t sleep for whatever reason there may be, whether it’s congestion, a headache, or any other pains in your body. he’ll carefully smooth his hand over your forehead to get rid of any sweat and will hold you close to him for comfort, gently rubbing his hand in circles on your back until you fall asleep, (if you say a word about it, he will once again pretend like it didn’t happen. he is the biggest tsundere).

❥ he does not know how to cook, but he will try his damndest to make you some good meals so that you don’t have to cook. every time you try to help him he will roll his eyes and tell you to go back to bed, ‘don’t worry, i’ve got this’, (he does not got this). he’s on the phone with ran the whole time, which is odd because he doesn’t know how to cook either.

“oh…wow! it looks great!” “why did you pause?” “uh, no reason…!”

❥ it’s the thought that counts…?

❥ you guys end up ordering takeout, and you have to comfort rindou for the whole night that you were very appreciative that he tried to cook for you, (he’s not outwardly upset, but it’s easy to tell that he’s sulking).

❥ you know those people who tell you to drink water whenever you complain about something? that’s rindou while you’re recovering. your head hurts? did you drink water? your stomach is achey? did you drink water? you’re really dizzy? did you drink water? it’s not even like he knows that water will fix any of those things, he just read an article on how sick people should have a lot of fluids, so he’s constantly shoving water and electrolyte drinks in your face.

❥ binge watching is the number one activity to do while you’re sick, so rindou will watch any show you want to watch with you. he doesn’t exactly say why, but it’s because he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s leaving you alone, especially while you’re sick, (it doesn’t really make sense to anybody but him).

“wait, hold on. so mary was dating mark but then she cheated on him with kendall?” “right?! it’s so crazy!!”

❥ he somehow gets into the crazy reality tv shows you watched because of your boredom.

❥ going back to this note, he’s not just by your side 24/7 while you’re sick, but also while you’re recovering. it’s completely irrational, but he has this fear that you’re suddenly going to collapse and get even sicker than you were before if he’s not there, so he will not let you leave his sight, (unless he’s going to the store to get something for you).

❥ if you want something, while you’re recovering is the time to ask for it! rindou is especially weak to your requests, and even more so when you’re feeling unwell, so if you ask him to buy you five pints of ice cream, he’ll end up buying ten, (he enjoys seeing the grin on your face, so he thinks it’s worth it).

❥ he does not care if you’re sick or still recovering, he will keep kissing you, and no, he doesn’t care if he gets sick. why should he let some stupid virus dictate whether or not he can kiss you? he might not seem like it, but he lives off of the affection that he gets from you, so he can’t even imagine not being able to kiss you.

❥ no matter the length of your hair, he will braid it. it’s a strange thing, and he doesn’t have an answer for you when you ask him what he’s doing. all he says is, ‘...keeps it out of your face…’, (he only knows how to braid because of ran).

❥ will walk by and toss a blanket on you if you don’t have one on already. it’s almost like he’s attacking you with blankets, but he just says that ‘you need to stay warm’.

❥ when you finally get better, he’s so relieved! he will only admit it to you, (and he will only say it once) but he was actually really worried about you. he’s not ever worried about your safety when you’re with him and his brother because he knows that they can fight off anybody who tries to hurt you, but sickness isn’t something that he can fight, so he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with himself. all he could do was hope and pray that you would get better, and he absolutely hated it.

❥ he takes you out to your favorite restaurant and spoils you rotten when you’re back to your normal self <3

323 notes · View notes

gretavanlace · 5 months

Text

Sugar II (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, cheating, choking (barely, and only if you squint) fingering, etc

Hello lovelies! I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate). So sorry for the wait, but I trust you’ll understand…things get so crazy this time of year! Please excuse any mistakes you find, I did some under the weather editing. Xoxo love you all ❤️

True to his word, he was knocking at your metaphorical door the second their brief intermission allowed, and now you find yourself trudging along beside him through a nearly deserted parking lot outside the town cinema that is conveniently attached to the mall.

The mall sees little action these days as it is - throw in the fact that it’s early afternoon smack dab in the middle of the week and you’ve got yourself a recipe for isolation.

Which was exactly the plan all along. It’s a small town, and questions are the last thing you need.

When he’d pulled up in his rental, some luxury sedan with sleek black paint and deeply tinted windows, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. How out of place he looked…he would’ve seemed more at home on a tricycle.

Now, after a hug that felt too intimate in the unforgiving glare of the sun, he holds the door open for you, ushering you inside, ever the gentleman, when his phone begins to hum in his pocket.

“Here,” a credit card, black and heavier than standard plastic, slips into your palm as he nods towards the popcorn and candy, “Go wear it out.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Kiszka?” You tease, leaning in conspiratorially, “Am I your dirty little secret?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shuts you down. “Dirty? Yes. Secret? Not so much.”

He tilts his phone to display Josh’s name trilling across the screen. “You’re welcome to say hello, if you’d like. But I honestly detest the thought of sharing you right now. Sounds torturous.”

Your eyes travel over him like he’s a fucking meal. Linen pants cuffed lazily at the ankles to display scuffed and worn boots. Light blue button up, barely buttoned and hardly hiding the softness of his stomach, which you long to gnash your teeth into. Coins and medallions clink about against his chest, locks curling like ribbons along the shoulders of his midnight onyx blazer…no, on this you two can agree, you’d rather not share him either.

“Don’t let him talk so long that I have to miss you.” You smile with a wink that sizzles the blood in his veins as he watches you make your way over to the concession stand.

In keeping with yet another promise, he stands beside you before the popcorn has even been buttered, ready to follow you into whichever darkened room you’ll be inhabiting together for the next couple of hours.

When you fold into your seats, you find yourselves utterly alone.

A half an hour in, and you’re deeply regretting your choice. Something more PG would have been a lifesaver. You should have opted for something animated, for christ’s sake.

Watching them twist through the sheets, his hands dipped into her waist as she rocks above him in the gorgeous, cinematic lighting would normally have no more than a minute effect on you…especially given how little you’ve paid attention to the actual plot.

But he’s so near. You can feel the warmth of his body heat. You can smell that woodsy hint that lilts through his aura, paired with the ghostly remnants of a cigarette he’d swear he never smoked. If you leaned in just a fraction of an inch, your lips could play against the corner of his jaw. And again, you’re alone, so alone, in the cool darkness of this deserted theater.

Watching them this way with him so close has your heart banging about in the cage of your chest like a bird, stunned and frightened. Intense. Inescapable.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is beating down upon smoldering asphalt just outside these walls, bathing this town, in which you’ve built a life, in blinding light. Outside, it’s just another Wednesday…but here, with him next to you, quiet and concentrating on the two strangers making love on screen, you could be a thousand miles away. An alternate reality where in which only you walk the earth - Jake’s hand in yours as he strolls along beside you.

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?” His question hushes out, though there is no one else around to hear it, but his eyes remain fixed ahead.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You bristle gently…he knows you far too well for it to ever feel fair.

“I am.” His head tilts towards yours, but still he watches on. “Would you like it if I shared, instead?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to talk at the movies?” You tease, simply to avoid whatever you know to be coming, “You really are spending too much time with Josh.”

A thought seems to suddenly occur to him, flickering a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. “Do you ever miss the way it used to be? With Josh? Before I came along and fucked everything up?”

His hand, which has been linked loosely with yours since the lights went down, offers a tiny squeeze. A reassurance that whatever the truth is, it will be alright to say it.

“Never.” And that really is the honesty of it all. “I miss the way things were when it was the three of us sometimes…but I think that’s really only because I miss you. I miss him too. But so differently. And I miss Sam and Danny. I miss…” you fall silent, searching for words that won’t come, and finally settle upon, “everything.”

“You don’t have to.” He is still refusing to look at you, though your eyes are heating his cheek with the intensity of your gaze in the dark. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore. You can come home, baby. You should come home. I want you to come home. I need you to—” his throat catches, and you watch his lips fold in against the vulnerability.

“I am home.” You argue, wishing you could take it back the second you’ve whispered it into existence.

“Why?” Finally, finally, he turns to catch your eye. “Because of him? I’m so sick of hearing about him it isn’t even funny. And not just because I’m jealous - which I most certainly fucking am - but because it’s such bullshit.”

Trying your hardest, you muster a bit of astonished annoyance, though you feel none of it “My life is bullshit?”

His response is matter of fact as he turns his attention back to the couple still feigning ecstasy before you “Yes, it is.”

“That’s real nice, Jake.” Now your irritation feels a bit more concrete. How dare he so nonchalantly sit here in the dark and try to poke holes in what you’ve cultivated in his absence? “What isn’t bullshit, then? Our pretend life that you choose to live inside? Or the one from years ago that you can’t let go of?”

Another squeeze of your hand comes tender and comforting, “I’ll let that slide because I know you don’t mean to be hurtful…and because I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you pull away and begin to miss his touch instantly. “I just…I have a fucking life, Jacob. And you seem hell bent on ruining it.”

“Okay,” he nods, turning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Take me home then, Sugar. Parade me through your life. Introduce me to Mr. Wonderful. Show me where you sleep. Where you watch TV with him at night. Where you take your baths, floating in the bubbles until you’re pruny and half-drunk on wine. Show me your backyard. Show me the walls he fucks you up against while you don’t think of me. Show me where you hide away from him at night to whisper sweet things to me…and not so sweet things. Let me meet your cat.”

His mouth is so close to yours you can faintly taste his minty toothpaste, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Alright,” he grins, sly as a snake, cheeks sweeping against yours as they perk with his smile, warm and soft “then just take me home and show me your pussy.”

It’s crass and ridiculous, and you know he’s said it simply to make you laugh…it works.

“So this is it, huh?” He leans forward, peering at your house through the windshield as you coast into the driveway. “No porch. No garden. But I’m going to wager there’s a welcome mat.”

His eyes cut over to you, a wickedly adorable gleam dancing about in them, “There is, isn’t there? How fucking quaint.”

How does he remember that you hate welcome mats? That you find them to be untruthful somehow, because certainly not everyone is welcome…some who find themselves at your doorstep should just go away. And how has he guessed that you do, in fact, have one? That he brought one home not long after you moved in and you hadn’t had the heart to tell him to throw it out?

Once more, you’re reminded of Jake’s uncanny ability to peer inside your head, but you refuse to stoke the fires of his ego. “You promised to behave, Jacob.”

He pops his door open and climbs out with a lazy stretch, “Oh, c’mon pretty girl, don’t tell me you believed that.”

Hand slipping from the steering wheel, you steel yourself with a steadying breath. This was a bad idea. A horrible choice. A disaster gearing up to wreak havoc…but here you are, leading the way with Jake strolling along behind you, taking in the suburban elements of your neighborhood with his hands buried casually in his pockets.

He always looks as though he has nowhere to be and all day to get there. It’s calming. Soothing. Like the invisible hand of a beloved caretaker reminding you that there is time enough to breathe. No reason to rush, it says…that gentle air about him. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.

As you fit your key into the deadbolt, he resumes his antics, “When will Mr. Wonderful return from sea? Is there a widow’s walk where we might watch for him together on this dreadful day of pining?”

Voice warbling and pitched low, he reaches up and tugs a lock of your hair, goading you like a drunken, English pirate.

“Shut up, Oliver, or I’ll go inside and lock the door behind me.” The hinges squeak open…no turning back now.

“No, you won’t.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at his own nonsense. “Seriously, do I get to size up the competition today?”

You welcome him in, slightly dizzy at the sight of him sauntering inside…you’ve imagined him here so many times. Longed for his penchant for filling up space, fat and full, with his greater than life presence.

He makes you feel small in the most wonderful way; you are bird cupped safe and sound in his palms as he holds you close to his chest, protecting you from the world.

And maybe you should tell him these things…the way he makes you feel. His eyes would turn soft, he might touch your face with his tender fingertips and sigh your name into the room like a wisp of a breeze.

But a glance at the mantel, and the framed picture perched there, sends a tiny rush of guilt surging through your veins and you shake the moment off and instead opt for a stern…

“No, you won’t be sizing anything up today, Jake,” you move about the room to keep his eyes on you rather than in the direction of the mantel. “I’m not sadistic enough to subject him to your gleeful nastiness.”

He laughs like he’s never loved anything more, tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat…you yearn to bite it. “Gleeful nastiness? Sugar, you wound me.”

Rather than stride across the room to sink your teeth into him, you cross your arms, disgruntled and annoyed. “You’d have way too much fun being an asshole, and he’d be far too nice to put you in your place.”

That darkens his eyes, and you almost regret it. Almost. “Put me in my place? Are you choosing sides, sweetheart? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

He’s moving toward you now, and you should back away, you know you should. Instead, your feet shuffle forward.

“Pretend your heart lies with him all you want,” he sweeps his lips over the apple of your cheek, “but I know better, and so do you.”

“Kiss me.” You bite your lip against the plea a second too late.

Those warm eyes of his, like coffee stirred with a splash of cream, flick down at your mouth and back to meet your gaze, and then his answer comes simply and with finality, “No.”

“No?” You’re incredulous, and admittedly stung by his rejection.

“No.” He reiterates, stepping away from you as your hands drop uselessly from his shoulders to your sides. “Take me on the tour, pretty girl. Show me this wonderful life of yours. I simply cannot wait.”

The “tour” he was so eager for is winding down as you steer him down the hall hurriedly, hoping he’ll ignore the door that is cracked and streaming light into the hallway.

Of course, he doesn’t. “What’s the rush, baby?” He smiles, feigning confusion, “What prize hides behind this one? Is this your bedroom?”

Suddenly, there is no space left between your bodies, and his is radiating a possessive heat as he backs you up into the room, guiding you along with a sure and steady arm wrapped around your waist.

“Is this where Mr. Wonderful fucks my girl?”

“Jake,” you’re protesting, but your fingers have curled into his shirt, thumb toying with one of the buttons that has likely never known what it’s like to be fastened. “Stop talking about it.”

He tilts his head in mock confusion, “Why? You like sex, I like sex, let’s talk about it, yeah? Oh, this is it right here, isn’t it? Look at this great big beautiful bed. Did you make it yourself this morning? Are the sheets clean?”

His mouth is at your throat now, licking and sucking between his terrible taunting questions. “If I laid you down right now, would I smell you on them? Would I smell him?”

“Jake, shut up,” you snap, but you’re pulling his lips in closer, hands fisting loosely in his hair.

You expect him to toss you down on the bed. To crawl on top of you. To grab you. To fuck you. To own you on the bed in some misguided show of territorial dominance.

And you expect to let him.

You expect to fight to be on top so that his hair will rest upon your pillow…so tonight you might drift away into a peaceful slumber gifted by the scent of him blurring your senses.

Instead, you find yourself pressed up against the wall, “I won’t have you in that fucking bed, even though I could, if I felt so inclined. I can tell you want it.” He sizes you up while grinding his cock into you with a delicious rhythm that’s got your breath panting out in tiny puffs already. “You do, don’t you, baby? You want me to fuck you in that bed. You want me all over the sheets he sleeps in.”

You’re ashamed, so fucking ashamed…but it’s true.

He’ll go, and you’ll miss him so terribly, and in some sick and horrifically twisted way you want him to spill on to the sheets, to leave his fingerprints on every surface. To lick across the bathroom mirror. To use your hairbrush so that there might be a strand or two of his silken waves left behind. You want him to drink from the milk carton and lounge about on the furniture. To lose the remote between the couch cushions. To tilt all the pictures uneven with his careless touch. You want him everywhere…to leave behind tiny remnants of himself once he’s gone, little pieces to ease your aching heart.

“Tell me, sugar.” He fucks himself against you with quick rolls of his hips until you’re praying his name. “Tell me the truth, baby. Tell me where you want me to give you my cock. I’m so hard for you, sweetheart.”

“In our bed,” it’s a rush of desperation as you clutch at him, dragging him closer to you…but it still isn’t enough, you wish you could crawl inside him. “Fuck me in our bed. Make me cum in our bad. Make me say your name in our bed. Please, jakey, please,”

Ignoring your disgraceful display, he continues to rock into you, gasping into the crook of your neck while his breathless moans tickle their way into your ear, “Does he make you cum in that bed? Does he take care of your pretty cunt the way I do? Does he make you shake and beg for terrible things? Hmm? Are you a good girl for him in that bed? Look at it.”

You shake your head back and forth against the wall, thrusting wildly to meet him. He’s right, he’s so fucking hard.

His palm wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides, directing your line of sight. “I said fucking look at it. I want your eyes on that bed when I make you cum. I’m gonna make it mine without laying a goddamn finger on it. My bed, and my girl with her pretty wet pussy that belongs to me.”

“Inside,” it’s a rasping, shaking plea, and it should embarrass you and cast your eyes downward in shame…but it doesn’t. You’ve always wanted him this badly, and he knows it as inherently as he remembers the walls of his childhood home. “I need you inside, need your cock.”

“That’s it, fuck doll…” there is a filthy smirk evident in his tone, though his face is once again buried against your neck, “Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you need it. Ask real sweet, sugar…be my very good girl.”

Your bodies writhe together feverishly until you feel like you might catch fire and burn away into ashes that will singe against his tongue like scorching want “Please, Jakey…please. I think about you all the time. I can’t clear my head, it’s always so full of you. Fuck me, fuck me, please please please…”

A painfully ragged groan rumbles out of him as his mouth, eager and starved, sucks against your throat, “Not gonna fuck you here. Not in this room where you let him touch you, not in this house where you let him love you.”

“Outside,” your teeth clench around the word until your jaw is screaming as loudly as the ache between your legs. “Take me out back, fuck me there…”

At last, his face, so beautifully flushed and dew-kissed, emerges from the crook of your neck, “You want me to take you outside and slide you onto my cock all wet and pretty? Want to let your neighbors hear what a whore you are for me? Let them hear how wet I make your gorgeous cunt? Hmm? Let them hear you whine my fucking name?”

“I don’t care what they hear…” you’re nearly mewling with need, clawing at his shoulders, clutching at his shirt, nearing your end, but so desperate to run from it because you want so much more. You don’t want this to be over without him slipped inside you, hard and hot.

“Look at me.” The insistence in his tone leaves no room for argument and your eyes flutter open to lock in on his.

A breathy, “You’re so beautiful,” trips off your tongue - a reflex that couldn’t be helped if you tried. He’s an evil, diabolical doctor banging a tiny hammer just below your knee cap.

A slow, languid blink is the only indication he gives that he’s even heard you. “You know my face, sugar?”

It’s the most absurd question that has ever been asked of you. Of course you know his face. Sometimes, it seems like you know nothing but his face.

Those sleepy eyes, that seem to see more than anyone has ever seen, down the deep and winding halls within you. His plush lips, full and pink, cruelly perfect, with a Cupid’s bow to rival the angel’s even if you stacked them all together. Rounded tip of his nose, different now, but still constantly luring your kiss. His jaw, so strong at times, so soft at others, but always begging for your tongue to trail along its path…his brow, his eyelashes, the way locks of hair display it all like a gilded edged frame adorning a wall in some ancient, European museum.

Yes, you know his face. You will always know his face. He is true north on your compass. He is the only direction in which your heart will ever willingly travel.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak even as your hips rock against him.

“Good girl,” he presses the softest kiss to your mouth, “I want your eyes on that bed when you cum, but I want my face in your heart, and my name on your pretty pink tongue. We’re gonna fucking erase him, aren’t we?”

Suddenly, you wonder who he means? Does he mean this new rival, who really isn’t his rival at all? Or does he mean Josh, even after all this time? Does he even know which? Do you?

“No, baby…” your voice is but a whimper, and it tugs a growl out of his lungs that makes you weaker still, “I don’t want to cum like this. I need you inside of me. Make me feel good, Jakey…make me whole.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head sternly and you shrink away from his scolding, head resting against the cool wall. “Never here. Not in this house. I hate this fucking house. I want to burn it down and salt the goddamn earth.”

“Give me more,” your fingers are tearing and pulling at him frantically. You need so much from him always, you need his everything.

“I’ll give you more,” his voice sounds feral, grinding and growling like sandpaper…like he is lost and stumbling along far away from himself, as he jerks you away from the wall and slams you up onto your vanity.

Tiny bottles and tubes tumble and spill to the floor, but rather than care, you reach back and blindly sweep the rest away to make room for whatever is about to happen.

“I’ll give you fucking more,” he bites into your throat as though he wants to swallow you down and carry you around inside him. “I’ll give you fucking anything if you’ll just let me. Let me, sugar…fuck, please baby.”

“Just…” you can’t finish your thought…can’t find your mental footing while vibrating with such desperation, so you don’t even try. Instead, you begin fumbling with his belt, but he shoves your hands away.

“I told you,” he grabs hold of your face, a firm yet shaking hand tight around your chin, “Not here. Stop.”

On your fingers march, fighting with leather and metal until his voice, soft and mournful now, guides you out of the haze, “Not here, sugar. Not here.”

Everything slows in a blink, as if fate has adjusted the playback speed, and you find yourself watching with bated, yet quieting breaths as he pops the button on your jeans and lowers the zipper, eyes on your face all the while.

He slips his fingers in slowly, carefully…you are precious and deserving of his care, and he wants you to have it.

“Lean back,” he soothes, the heel of his palm grinding softly against your clit, “Let me take care of my girl.”

You’re prepared to whine and barter, but he shakes his head the moment your lips part.

“Shh, settle down, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” free hand now petting at your face, he offers you the gentlest smile. “You’re so wet, sugar. So warm.”

“Jake,” you’re rocking up to meet him now, slipping into the breathtaking haze of bliss he saves just for you.

“What, pretty girl?” God, the way he’s speaking to you…each word dripping with adoration and awe. Drenched in lust. Positively soaked in love. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” your eyes are drifting closed now as you wade deeper into the tepid pool of your Jakey. You want to stay forever, to sink into his swirling blue waters until you’re forced to suck him into your lungs and drown.

“Eyes open.” The demand is soft and delicate, like lace drawn across your flushed skin.

You recall his earlier instruction and cast your heated stare at the bed you share with a man you could never exist for the way you live and breathe for Jake, but he shakes his head, “I was wrong…I don’t want that. Look at me, sugar. Right here, look at me.”

How could you ever want to look at anything else? Your gaze locks with his, and in reward, he curls his searching fingers and drags a high pitched moan off the tip of your tongue.

“Good girl, baby…” he nods, dropping his forehead to meet yours “So pretty. Silky little pussy wrapped up snug and tight around me like she never wants me to leave.”

“Don’t,” you’re writhing and grabbing at him now, crawling closer and closer to the edge, “Don’t leave me, Jake.”

His hand trails down from your face to cover your heart, “Is that coming from here, too?”

Watching him like this, your chest feels like it could easily cave in…like it could crumple in on itself - a balled up scrap of cheap aluminum foil crushed inside a fist. He is a sonnet come to life. A haunting song, living and breathing, watching you like you are love incarnate.

Of course it’s coming from your heart. It’s coming from your soul…or perhaps from the soul the two of you sometimes seem to share.

“I don’t know why I keep fighting this,” strangely, tears are burning in your eyes as the white hot band of pleasure stretches tighter still in your belly, “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted,”

Satisfied, the air sighs out of his lungs as his fingers crook just perfectly and unravel you with a jolt. It is such a lazy, undulating ribbon of pleasure, unwinding through your veins like slow heat as you gasp and hush his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, sounding far away. “Nice and slow…just like that. Shh, I’m right here. I’ve got you, sugar, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes never stray from his, even when the intensity you find in them threatens to crack your chest wide open, and when you finally come down, that’s how you both stay for so long you can almost believe the rest of the world has fallen away.

When his fingers twitch and you shiver with overstimulation, it breaks the spell and he pulls back… reluctantly sliding slowly from the cashmere grip of your cunt, only to suck those two fingers into his mouth with a muted groan of content.

“Pack a bag, sugar…” his hands cup your cheeks, fingers slick against your face as his nose tips up to meet yours, “Or don’t. We’ll go shopping and I’ll buy you anything and everything you’ve ever needed. Whatever you want, pretty girl…it’s yours.”

“I—“ you can’t seem to think straight.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’s teasing now, with a barely there smirk taunting his lips, “Let me steal you away and take you home where you belong. I’ll write pretty songs for you, and make love to you every morning until the sun is so envious of us it resents having to rise. Let me build you a house. Let me till a garden for my girl.”

At last, you find your voice, “I have to do this the right way, Jake. His heart deserves care. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. I’m the bad guy, here.”

“No,” that soft, hidden away smile of his clutches at your heart. “I think I’m the bad guy here. I just can’t find a shit to give.”

You’ve righted your disheveled selves and are now attempting to right all the other wrongs, with you stretched out on the rug watching as Jake picks up the tiny bottles and jars that litter the floor, asking after each one…

“Highlighter? What the hell does this do? Are you a book report?” And “How many lip glosses do you even need, sugar? You only have two lips.”

…before carefully placing said product back on the vanity - when, way ahead of schedule, the garage door rumbles to life.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, but on his end, Jake’s eyes light up with menacing delight, “Well, what do you know, babe? It seems our dear captain has returned.”

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ejlovespie · 2 years

Text

You're Mine

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend catches you flirting with a guy at the bar. Feeling jealous and possessive, he punishes you in bed.

Words: 1.7K

Warnings / Tags: 18+ NSFW / possessive & jealous dom!damon / bratty reader / sir kink / praise kink / tied up reader / spanking / orgasm denial / oral (fem receiving) / reader crying & feeling emotional from overstimulation / fingering / unprotected p in v sex / aftercare / fluff

A/N: I wrote this for @evergreencowboy for my drabble game! It went a little long..I'm sensing a theme here lol. Anyway, thank you for always being my cheerleader and supporting me, Lyd. I appreciate you so so much and love you dearly! I really hope you like this fic with Damon. XOXO -EJ

Damon is pissed and the thought brings a careless smirk to your face. Eyes wide, you quickly attempt to hide it by bringing a hand to your mouth. He catches it though and narrows his eyes on you darkly. You know he’s menacing, a big and scary vampire, a terrifying monster..but despite that a giggle bubbles up your throat and sneaks past your lips. Shit. Damon fully turns to look at you now. His eyes narrow further and his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. Knowing it won’t make any difference, you take a small step back as sweat forms on the back of your neck and a dizzying spike of adrenaline shoots through your veins. Damon lunges for you faster than your human eyes can comprehend. In one fluid motion he picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, races upstairs to his bedroom, and dumps you unceremoniously onto his plush bed.

Blowing hair out of your face, you look up at him wide-eyed and try to hold back a fit of manic giggles. He actually growls at you as you begin to laugh so hard that tears form in your eyes. Normally, Damon would smile with you and tell you how beautiful you look in his bed. He loves seeing your soft eyes shine with mirth but not right now. He’s so mad at you, he can barely see straight.

Frustrated, Damon bites out, “Y/N. Stop. Laughing.”

Crossing muscled arms over his chest, he glares at you murderously. Your stomach muscles ache as tears begin to stream down your face. Knowing you’ve crossed a line, you try, unsuccessfully, to stop laughing and explain yourself through giggles. “I–I’m sorry Damon!” You hold your stomach as it starts to cramp. Laughing through tears, “It was a joke, I swear! I don’t know that guy.”

Wiping tears away, you breathe through the stomach cramps as Damon grinds his teeth and says nothing in response. You had wanted to rile him up a little but really didn’t think he would get this mad. The Grill was so busy that getting drinks at the bar had been impossible, so when a cute guy bought you one, and gave it to you with a wink, you accepted it. You honestly didn’t mean anything when you put a hand on his arm and leaned in to thank him. You were just grateful. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t acknowledge the part of you deep down that knew your vampire boyfriend was sure to notice and have something to say about it. However, Damon was way more pissed than you thought he would be. When you returned back to the table with your drink, he had taken it, put it down, and dragged you home.

In a barely controlled voice Damon growls, “Turn over.” and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore.

Your heart picks up speed knowing what’s about to happen. You wait, a second too long, and Damon is on you, speeding to your side and flipping you onto your belly. Your cheek rests against the soft sheets as Damon pulls rope from somewhere you can’t see. You take a deep, calming breath as he grabs your wrists and deftly ties them together before pulling you up to the headboard. He ties your wrists to the bed and gives it a tug, testing the knots before stepping away. Turning your head to watch him, you follow his movements as he walks over to the mini bar in the corner of the room and pours himself a drink. You swallow thickly as he shoots back three fingers of bourbon before quickly pouring himself a second glass. Oh boy…You’ve done it this time.

Damon’s shoulders are tense, his whole body rigid as he drinks the second glass more slowly. He shakes his head as he finishes it before turning around to look at you. His dark eyes move over your body, tied up and splayed out on his bed. He wishes you were there under different circumstances, wishes he could give you more pleasure than pain, but you were naughty. You flirted with some asshole just to get a rise out of him. Sighing, Damon sets the glass down and saunters over to you. He eyes your ass and debates how many times he’s going to have to spank you. Sitting down on the bed he runs a palm over your rear. You make a small sound in your throat but he ignores it. You’re excited. Happy for this outcome. You’re always testing his patience, getting into trouble and pushing his buttons to see what you could get away with. Brat.

Softly, Damon says, “You know I have to punish you.” You nod, saying nothing, but that's not what he wants to hear and you know better. Exasperated, Damon bites out, “Excuse me?”

You whimper slightly and whisper, “Yes, sir.” He palms your ass before continuing, ”I would have preferred to worship your body and have fun tonight…but you had to test me. Again. Why are you always getting into trouble and making me punish you, Y/N?”

Your response dies on your throat and you yelp as Damon’s hand comes down hard on your right ass cheek. Your pussy throbs as Damon growls, “Answer. Me.” Breathless, you respond, “I–I don’t know, sir!”

It takes everything in you not to moan when Damon yanks down your pants and panties in one motion before delivering another hard spank, this time to your left cheek. Your lips tremble as he rubs a hand over the area, soothing the sting before delivering another blow to the right one. Unable to hold back, you moan softly in response, earning another hard spank. Your ass stings and your body tightens as Damon scolds you. “I guess spanking you isn’t much of a punishment with how much you enjoy it. Let’s try something else.”

You hold your breath as Damon deftly unties you from the headboard, flips you onto your back, and secures your bound wrists to the headboard again. Then he pulls your legs wide open and quickly ties an ankle to each corner of the footboard. Cool air hits your exposed pussy and you fidget as Damon crawls onto the bed in between your legs. He rubs his hands over your thighs, eyeing your dripping center. His eyes light up, pleased, but he tisks at you, chiding, “You're dripping wet for me and all I've done is spank you. Very bad girl.”

You pull at your restraints, loving being tied up but also wanting to touch him. It was an exhilarating kind of torture. You wondered what Damon would do next as he stared at you for a long moment. Your heartbeat thudded violently in your chest and you knew he could hear it. Looking into your eyes Damon says, “I know you’re excited but you shouldn’t be..”

Opening your mouth to argue, the words die on your lips as Damon leans in and presses his tongue to your clit. Your back arches off the bed as it circles your clit a few times before moving to tease your folds. Bringing a hand up, he rests it on your abdomen pushing down lightly to apply pressure as his mouth works you over. You whine as he dips his tongue into your pussy and lickes you slowly, applying more pressure as your muscles flex around him inside you. He pulls out and flattens his tongue to lick a long, slow stripe up to your clit before wrapping his lips around you. Damon groans and you watch him as he kisses and sucks on you. You thrash on the bed, pulling at your restraints and he works you over and over again, pulling you to the edge before backing off. It’s torture. You’re close, needing to cum so bad but he won’t let you.

You don’t know how much time passes as Damon teases you but it feels like hours. He sucks and flicks your clit with his tongue until you get close and then he moves his tongue down to tease and play with you until your climax fizzles out. Frustrated tears spring to your eyes and you beg to cum, apologize over and over again but he doesn’t listen. When Damon’s eyes meet yours and he slides a long finger inside of you, you about lose it. Tears streaming down your face you beg again, “Dam–Sir, please let me cum. I–I’m sorry. I went too far, I knew you would be mad and I–I hoped for this but I can’t...th–this is too much. Pl–lease!”

Unable to see you cry anymore, Damon pulls back and eyes you darkly. “If you want me to tie you up and spank you, tell me. Stop behaving like a little brat to get your way or next time I won’t stop. Oh, and if you ever flirt with some frat-boy-douche again, I'll kill ‘em. You’re mine, now and forever. Mine. Do you understand?”

Crying, you nod trying to breathe through your tears and the emotions running rampant through you. Damon growls, demanding, “Use your words, Y/N. Do. You. Understand?”

Gasping for breath, you cry, “Y–yes, sir! I understand..please, Damon!” Damon murmurs a praise before crawling towards you on the bed. Bringing his hands to your face, he cups your cheeks and wipes at the tears, shushing and calming you until your breathing goes back to normal and you’re no longer crying. “Okay..shh. That’s a good girl..It’s okay, princess. I’m going to take care of you.”

Looking into Damon’s eyes, you nod, grateful he changed his mind. Damon smiles before slipping off the bed and makes quick work of stripping out of his clothes and climbing back up between your legs. He kisses your neck and face tenderly in a silent apology for making you cry while he slowly slides himself into you. You both moan as he bottoms out and then pulls out and pushes back in slowly, adjusting his angle until he hits the spot inside you where you’re most sensitive. Murmuring soft praises in your ear, Damon reaches down and gently swipes at your swollen clit. With how on edge you were, it doesn’t take long before you’re cuming hard and crying again. Unable to see you cry, Damon pulls out and unties the rope at your wrists and ankles before settling you against his chest. Resting your head on his chest, you relish the feeling of him holding you as he wipes your tears away and you fall asleep to him telling you how much he loves you.

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#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore fluff #damon salvatore #the vampire diaries #tvd smut #tvd fanfiction #tvd

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doc-pickles · 5 months

Text

sent to save me | sidney crosby (ch. 2)

series masterlist

summary: sid grapples with his emotions and talks with annie before visiting the malkin’s newest addition

warnings: none! :)

author’s note: Hey y’all! I’m so happy you’re enjoying this series already. I’m super excited to write it out and give it some body. Hope you like this chapter!

xoxo

nina

The first time Sidney Crosby met Annie Wright she spilled coffee all over him.

“Shit I’m so sorry I wasn’t watching and my phone rang and-,” Annie had paused and looked up at Sidney with wide eyes. “And now the tabloids are going to rake me through the mud for trying to take out Pittsburgh’s Golden Boy.”

Sid chuckled and looked down at his shirt with a grin, “S’okay. It was an accident. Unless you purposely spill coffee on strangers.”

The wide grin that Annie gave Sidney is one he still pictures to this day. Her hair was in a high ponytail, her face freckled from the summer sun. He compares that image with the version of Annie standing in front of him now. She looks sad, worn down even. This is not his Annie.

They’re both standing speechless across from each other and for a moment it feels like no time has passed. But then Sid blinks and his world comes crashing back down around him.

“Is Vivie mine?” Sid’s not sure where his words come from. It feels like he’s not even the one saying them, like he’s watching the scene unfold before him from outside of his body. “I need you to tell me, I need to hear it from your lips. Is she mine?”

Annie’s eyes search his face for a moment before she nods and answers in a quiet voice, “Yes she’s your daughter Sidney.”

His hands run over his face, through his hair, covers his eyes. Sid sucks in a deep breath and immediately feels his sandwich from earlier coming back up. He quickly turns around and pukes into the bush there, chest heaving as he braces his hands on his knees.

He has a daughter.

A daughter who’s first seven years of life he’s missed.

A daughter with the only woman he’s ever loved.

When he’s sure that he’s not going to throw up again Sid stands up, takes a deep breath, and turns to Annie. Her teeth are digging into her lip, a nervous habit she’s always had, and even though he has a million conflicted emotions about her Sid finds all he wants to do right now is smooth out the skin of Annie’s lips like he used to.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Annie breathes and runs a hand through her blonde locks. “Which isn’t fair to you I know but I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into you when I woke up today. Damn it, I’m sorry I know you’re expecting answers but I can’t… I can’t think straight. I’m sorry.”

Sid sighs and nods, “I get it. I’m, uh, pretty speechless too.” He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, clocking Annie’s eyes following his hand. “I have Niki for a few days but maybe… Maybe we could meet up and talk?”

Annie only hesitates for a moment before nodding, her shoulders loosening just a little bit, “That… Yeah that would be good.”

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments as if they’d never been madly in love and on the verge of spending their lives together. Finally Sidney is the one to break the silence as his fingers twitch at his sides.

“Vivie is all Nikita talks about,” Sid smirks at the small laugh that Annie lets out. “Seriously, he spent 20 minutes this morning telling me about why blue and purple are her favorite colors.”

Annie rolls her eyes playfully before smirking, “Yeah that sounds right. Annie and him have been inseparable since they met in kindergarten. Hold on, I have this one picture…”

As Annie pulls her phone out Sidney drinks in her casual appearance, a pair of frayed jeans with a white tee tucked into it. She’s just as gorgeous as she’s always been and it makes Sid’s chest constrict tightly despite the anger and sadness still lingering there.

“Here! They wanted matching costumes so they decided to be Woody and Jessie,” Annie holds her phone and shows Sid a photo of Nikita and Vivie, arms wrapped around each other. It’s clearly from a few years ago, both of them sporting chubby cheeks and bright eyes. Sid takes in the way Vivie’s eyes look so much like his, the way her chin is a perfect replica of his.

There’s emotion overflowing in his chest and Sid finds he has to look away so he doesn’t start crying in front of a fucking elementary school right after throwing up there. He clears his throat and looks away from Annie’s phone, “She’s beautiful, An. Is, uh, is Vivie short for something?”

“Her full name is Vivienne,” Annie whispers as she watches her phone intently. “Um… Vivienne Taylor.”

Sidney felt his heart clench at Annie’s words, knowing she’d thought of him when naming their daughter. He let out a slow breath, willing back his tears once more before nodding, “That’s… Thank you.”

Annie and Sid exchange numbers before parting ways and as soon as he’s behind the wheel of his SUV Sidney lets out a ragged breath followed by a low sob.

“Mama! Papa!”

Sid’s been on auto pilot since his run in with Annie this morning, but Nikita’s yell breaks him out of his haze momentarily. He follows the boy into the hospital room, watching as Geno lifts his son into his arms and kisses his hair.

That should be you with your daughter.

Shaking the thought off Sid sets the flowers he’d brought on the bedside table before coming over to hug Anya, kissing her forehead.

“You look great for just having pushed a baby out,” Sid teases lightly, but his grin doesn’t reach his eyes.

“She big like her papa, nearly tore me in half,” Anya grins up at Sid before looking to the bundle in her arms. “You wanna hold?”

He agrees instinctively and carefully takes the baby from Anna. Her little face is scrunched up and Sid can already see wisps of dark hair peeking out from her cap. Gently running a finger down her chubby cheek Sid thinks about his own daughter and how he never got this moment with her. Hell he’d never even hugged the girl and she was already seven years old.

“Sid why you crying, it’s just baby,” Geno teases as he sidles up next to him. He looks him over before lowering his voice. “You okay?”

Sidney nods and stares at the baby for another moment before speaking, “I met Vivie today. And her mom.”

Geno grunts, his eyes trained on his daughter, “Mom never around when I am. Anya think she’s avoiding me, don’t know why though.”

“Vivie’s mom is Annie,” Sid pauses and then looks up at Geno, whose face has gone white. “My Annie.”

The two men stand in silence, Nikita chattering to his mom in the background. Sid and Geno keep their eyes locked on the baby in Sid’s arms as they come to terms with the bomb that had been dropped on them. Annie had left before Anya had moved to Pittsburgh, it was reasonable she wouldn’t know who she was. But Geno would have and Annie knew that.

“Sid is…,” Geno looks scared to utter the words as he meets Sid’s eyes. “Vivie?”

Sid simply nods, Geno exhaling and running a hand over his face. The baby fusses a bit and Sidney immediately starts to rock back and forth, bouncing on his heels and soothing her.

“You’re natural Sid,” Anya muses with a grin, missing the wince Geno lets out. “When you have your own babies?”

“Anya,” Geno says lowly and though he can’t understand it, Sid knows that whatever he says in Russian is enough for Anna to get that she shouldn’t ask more questions.

Later that night after he’s tucked Nikita into bed Sid checks his phone, a glass of scotch in one hand as he sinks into the couch. He has a few texts but there’s only one he clicks into.

Unknown: hey it’s annie. let me know when a good time for you to meet up is, i’m flexible.

And then, as if knowing his heart didn’t need to take anymore hits today, Annie sends a photo of Vivie fast asleep in her bed with a stuffed penguin tucked under her chin.

And Sidney finally lets his tears fall.

#Sidney crosby #Sidney crosby fic #Sidney crosby fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nina writes

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4channerguy · 2 months

Note

Fluff Nagumo (sakamoto days) x GN reader!! It could be about anything Idc as long as it’s fluff!! Include nsfw in the end if you would like too I don’t mind 🫶

✧ nagumo as your boyfriend

◜ ⟣𓂃 hey anonn :3 sorry for the hold up i've been suffering writer's block for like months and shit & i decided it’s the best for me to do like a little headcanon thing cuz like tbh i don’t think i could write a full fic tho 🫡 also the nsfw part is lacking at best because i genuinely still do not KNOW how to WRITE for NAGUMO!!! WHY OH WHY!!!! anyway i hope it caters to you. xoxo (。・∀・)ノ

warnings ✎ : nsfw content, gender neutral reader (genitalia is not mentioned only your chest and your butt KEK) obsessive behavior mayhaps? ➜ ┊ pairings: nagumo x reader

♯┆SFW .ᐟ ★

he's such a wonderful bf *sigh*

he's also quite a teaser ngl, i think he blows on your neck a lot and when you flinch and glare at him he always has a shit-eating grin.

quite overprotective of you, even if you're literally extremely muscular and can literally bodyslam someone, he cannot BEAR the sight of you getting a small scratch on your face. or you getting into a fight

he's also a drama king

"oh hey nagumo...uhh what're you doing...?"

"applying rubbing alcohol on your face duh, who did this to you?? >:("

"what're you talking about...oh."

"oh?"

"heh...um that was me. i did that. i was...ripping a candy bag open. with my teeth. and the sharp part...cut my face." *insert mlp squee sound*

"..."

he's still going to thoroughly disinfect it and check on it everyday until it's gone. what a king!

he's very handsy, so you will find his hand SOMEWHERE on your part of your body.

you get so used to it you don't even notice.

if you ever sleep together, he always has both of his arms wrapped around you and whenever you wake up in the morning, you feel a puddle of drool in your hair. like always.

when he's sitting down next to you he always has the habit of grabbing your nearest hand and massaging your phalanges. or just intertwining and detangling your fingers with his.

also has the habit of just staring at you for no reason

it's like when you accidentally hold eye contact or stare at a person while your zoning out

except for his case he does it intentionally.

quite possessive of you, in some cases it can be unhealthy. also a bit jealous. (i might go on with this in a ramble if i could)

always offers his frumpy looking jackets and hawaiian shirts for you to wear

and you do because...who tf wouldnt lol

and when you do wear them he melts a little

trace his tattoos with your fingers!!! he finds that gesture slightly intimate

also you two have a game where every year for his birthday you pick out the dumbest tattoo design and make him get it

last year it was a badly drawn dick with two circles and a long oval lol

♯┆NSFW .ᐟ ★

i think he's personally an ass/thigh man

he's always finding a way to sneakily grope them in public settings

speaking of that he probably likes public risky sex (what a freak literally)

the thought of you and him getting off in the back of some janitor's closet or something like that with the door unlocked will get him hard ngl

he also probably has a size kink

AND this might be an unpopular opinion BUT i personally think that he would want to explore pegging

but you didn't hear that from me........................

he would think about asking you about it time to time but he won't personally act on it because it's not something he wants to experience it yet

(sorry)

dick size is kind of around 5 or 6 inches when hard probably and it's not very girthy i will not lie 🙅but it hits all the right spots i guess so yass?

he likes bondage, but wants to see you tied up most of the time :3

⋆｡𖦹 °✩ 04.12.24, do not repost or translate my content :^)

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unlucky-corvid · 4 months

Text

Crow x Reader SFW Relationship Alphabet

So, I tried my best with this one, I hope you enjoy it. sorry if its a little OOC. i love crow but he's a character I've not had much exposure to. its also not been massively proof read but either way I hope you all enjoy! (I've yet to add the links to the lore books but when its not 11pm I will!)

xoxo

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first crow is a bit hesitant with affection. What if he did it wrong? What if he was too much? What if you realised you didn’t like him? This led to a rather frustrating lack of communication with crow hesitant to initiate affection and you pulling back slightly thinking his lack of affection was in response to being overwhelmed by your own actions. After it reaches its peak you both sit down and clear the air. Crow gets things off his chest and realises you more than welcome any affection he wants to give.

At first its secretive, shy. More cuddles and kisses when you’re both relaxing in your apartment. He’ll makes you tea or coffee on cold mornings before heading out, draw you baths when you get back covered in dirt, sweat and something he frankly daren’t ask about. His affection is soft and warm.

Eventually he’ll feel comfortable enough to show a little more affection outside your little slice of privacy. His Pinky will find yours, linking them as you listen to one of Osiris’s lectures, he’ll place a hand on the small of your back, thumb making soft soothing circles.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

His mind is in two sorts. One side shies away, best case scenario guardians would be polite, but he could see the slight contempt for him in their eyes, especially the hunters. The other side, the side desperate for connection with someone, anyone, wants to reach out to you. Its this side that wins when you and crow are paired up on a routine patrol in the dreaming city to some more dangerous areas infested with taken. When he isn’t treated to the usual harshness, the malicious and reluctant compliance with being paired with him, he relaxes a little. Glints incessant chatter in his ear about how nice you were and how he should ask to do something with you in the tower, or talk to you more, or even just smile at you a little more.

To his surprise after the patrol, you offer to take him out to the ramen joint and, after getting over his surprise, he agrees and it blossoms from there.

You’re both very close, attached at the hip and rarely going on missions and patrols without one another. He’s a very protective and considerate friend. Zavala, Osiris, and a few others had shown him forgiveness and understanding but none like you. You truly cared. He’s the first to speak up if he feels the vanguard are putting too much on you and taking advantage of your willingness to help.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This touch starved man is desperate for anything he can get.

Crows first touch from a guardian was a female titan who had spotted him as he took his first steps into the world of guardians. She proceeded to snap his collar bone and crush his pelvis with a flaming hammer and left him to die there from internal haemorrhaging. After that he decided to cover his face and very rarely sought out the touch of other guardians.

Then came you.

he trusted you enough to sleep near you, let you touch him, knowing you wouldn’t hurt him. You would sit by the campfire, leant against one another, and slowly sink into a peaceful albite short slumber.

After you and crow get closer as friends and something more, you would both find solace in each other’s arms, whether it was after a particularly harrowing mission, loss of a friend or simply a bad day full of minor inconveniences.

After you start dating, he’s so cuddly. In your apartment, he’s all over you. Cooking? he’s there behind you, arms round your waist. Laundry? Same deal. In bed? You don’t need that weighted blanket anymore, you have an awoken male shaped pillow on top of you. He’s very fond of how your fingers gently trace the swirls of light on his face as he relaxes into you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Crow knows the possibility of being able to settle down is slim to none. Theres always a new threat, a new enemy but he can dream.

This man can’t cook to save his life. He can make edible meals but cook something and make it taste good on purpose, not so much. He puts effort into other things though, always helping out with the chores when you’ve both got the time to do them. Being house proud tends to come second to being a guardian out in the field.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I honestly can’t see crow leaving you unless you did something heinous that he just can’t forgive. If he did it would be face to face after convincing from Osiris and saint or glint. When he does see you, you have to coax what he’s trying to say out of him because he’s just that nervous. And if you cry? That’ll just break him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Crow is very quick to commit. As soon as he knows that you both have the same feelings for one another and that he can trust you, he will never stray from your side. Unlike Cayde who would promise to marry you when everything dies down, crow is the opposite. Nothing big or lavish and he’ll try his best to get a nice ring, but he would want everyone to know and to have that promise and commitment. A small ceremony consisting of very close friends, probably officiated by Mara, Zavala or Osiris takes place in the courtyard at dusk as the sun is setting.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Emotionally, crow is very aware. After years of picking up the subtle glares, veiled threats and reading between the lines crow is very in tuned to other people’s emotions, especially yours. He knows when your calm face remains so but your fists client and jaw sets that your moments away from punching the next annoyance that passes you, he notices the tiredness in your eyes no matter how hard you try to hide it and he always notices the glassiness in your gaze as you fight back tears. And he always knows how to help. A calming hand, a warm embrace, a hot drink, and a blanket. He’ll never dismiss your feelings.

Physically, crow is equally as gentle. Uldrens hands were tools of death, Deaths of many and he wants to be anything but that. When touching you he’s always gentle, he treats you with reverences, like you’re the most precious thing he’s held and to him its true.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

This is pretty much covered in the cuddles section. At first, he was a little adverse to touch but after you hug him out of sheer relief he was addicted and realised what he had been missing out.

Crows’ coms had gone down mid mission while the pair of you had been separated during a high-risk mission. No matter what you had tried you couldn’t establish a connection. You reach the exfil point and…. nothing. he wasn’t there. You waited and just as you were about to go and look for him, he emerges looking worse for wear, armour muddied, cloak torn a little at the edges and panting. You didn’t give it a second thought you surge forward, wrapping your arms around him, telling him how worried you were. He freezes but with a little encouragement from glint he relaxes and returns the hug.

Crows’ hugs are gentle but firm, holding you close as he buries his face into your hair or the side of your neck. Nine times out of ten you will have to be the one to end the hug or you’ll be there a long time.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Crow would be the first to say it. Hed take you somewhere scenic, you’d have been dancing round one another’s feeling for a while. He’s a fumbling mess, what you didn’t see was the 15-minute prep talk he got from glint. When he does say it, it’s quiet, he’s holding your hands as he finally says the words. His eyes watching you closely waiting for the rejection or the horror that…never comes. When you return the little 3 words, he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding far too long.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets jealous, not a lot but he does. He likes having your attention. You’re attentive, caring, and sweet, of course he wants to be the one you focus on. He totally doesn’t move your favourite plushie across the room because you cuddled it instead of him that night…. doesn’t matter that he got home after you’d fallen asleep, it should have been him. He never voices these things because he knows its unreasonable and this manifests as frustration and frequent berating of himself. When you notice his change in behaviour and ask him, he comes clean about his feelings, he explains how he feels bad about it and is surprised when you comfort him and explain that a little jealousy is normal and okay, as long as he doesn’t let it get out of hand.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Crow’s kisses are soft and unhurried. He likes to make the most of every single one. He’s a tad inexperienced, before he got Uldrens memories, he had never kissed another, steering away from taking off his mask. And Uldren wasn’t exactly a magnet for physical affection, so crow hasn’t had much practice. Much to his delight, you’re quick to rectify this.

Crow will kiss you everywhere but he’s particularly fond of your wrists, forehead, and nape of your neck when spooning.

Crow adores any kisses you give him, be it lips, cheeks or anywhere else. He won’t admit that he’s very fond of when you kiss a particular spot just under his jaw line that makes him melt.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Crow has a surprising amount of experience with children. Uldren would tell stories to eliksni children, even putting voices on, earning him delighted laughter. Crow misses this, he often tells glit about the times he would tell exciting tales to the children and when Eido suggests him coming to tell the children stories again one day., well…how could he turn down an offer like that, and of course you got an invite.

When he’s with the children, sat cross legged on the floor as the many eyes watch him with an alarming amount of attention, its like a new side of him peaks out, a soft and confident demeanour as he does all the sound effects and voices for the young ones who cant supress their giggles. Occasionally your eyes will meet as he tells the tales, and you don’t mis the faint blush that dusts his cheeks.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are slow and warm and cosy. Wrapped in the blankets and one another’s embrace. Words are hushed and murmured, quiet giggles and soft smiles as you each fight one another to prevent each other from leaving the warmth of the covers. When you eventually climb out of the bed, crow is making coffee while you cook breakfast before you leave onto perform whatever task the day holds. On occasion alarms will get slumber leading to panicked rushing and mad dashing around the room to get dressed. Once crow face planted the floor trying to put on socks and you laughed so hard you forgot you were late and got a very stern talking to from Zavala and had to put up with crows pouting all day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent wrapped up on the sofa. If you’ve been busy on patrols and missions, then its take out and drinks at home. Glint loves these nights, bouncing between the pair of you and your own ghost as you sit and chat. On nights when the pair of you have a little more energy, walks in the tower and trips to the few restaurants in the last city, trying new food and experiences. Crow loves the long nights sat up talking, its quiet and no one has any expectations of either of you, allowing the pair of you to just be.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Crow knows you likely know his past. Its no secret, most everyone in the tower knew, no doubt at the beginning of your friendship people warned you about him, sent you the same glares, the same spiteful words. Despite this you stick by him, and he finds himself slowly opening up to you. Small stories from Uldrens childhood, moments in the dreaming city, his experiences after being ressed and fears for the future are shared over drinks in the night.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

While crow is a fairly patient guardian, he can be a little brash. Naïve and eager to fight the fight against darkness sometimes he needs to be heled back and reminded of the risks before charging in headfirst. This is even more so if its you the vanguard are discussing throwing into the fight. If you’re sent on a solo mission, he’s pacing the tower until you’re back, until he knows you’re safe. Like Cayde, he has your armour, weapons and ship committed to memory in case the worst happens and he has to go out and find you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You are everything to this guardian and he’s going to try and commit everything to memory. Your favourite food, drinks, how you like your tea and coffee, your routines, birthday, anniversary. Everything he can remember he does, anything he’s worried about forgetting, well, glint is more than happy to help.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you and crow began to grow closer together as friends, he starts to notice…peculiar things. His heart racing when you’re near, sweaty palms, nervousness. After multiples talks with Osiris, saint and glint he decides maybe he should talk to you. He invites you on a trip to the dreaming city on the promise of showing you his favourite part of the dreaming city’s gardens. That area is, thankfully, devoid of taken or scorn. You both sit in the soft grass surrounded by plants of all colours and the amethyst hue of the surrounding rock formations. He shares some of his most treasured memories until a nudge from glint who gave him an eager whisper about how he’s stalling. Eventually through awkward fumbled words and a new hue of blue/purple on his cheeks which you eventually figure out is him blushing, he confesses his feeling to you. And much to his delight, you reciprocate them.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. Crow has lost far too much, risked far too much to lose you. Crow would go on every mission he could with you and if he couldn’t, you can bet he’ll be on coms with you the whole time. Crow would have your 6 no matter what, god help anything that tries to take you from him.

Crow won’t admit it but he loves when you defend him against the lessening but still there harsh words of guardians who refuse to trust he is no longer Uldren. Seeing you reprimand them, scolding them with words about how caring and sweet and strong he was and how they were wrong for judging him based on a life he now had no control over. He thinks he’s slick and that you don’t know he likes it, not realising the dumb grin on his face afterwards gives everything away.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries, bless him. But he’s not the most experienced with courting. Dates are private affairs rather than big grand gestures. Maybe he got glint to find a recipe to cook your favourite meal ready for you when you get home, picnics somewhere not infested with fallen, cabal or hive and grabbing a meal at a small restaurant. Glint is always eager to help and offering well-meaning but questionable suggestions.

Everyday tasks, he’s making you tea, running your baths, this man will do anything for you if it makes you smile no matter how boring or laborious.

Gifts include anything from a little something you spotted in the bazar but decided not to buy because your saving glimmer to a new titan mark/warlock bond/ hunter cloak specialised just for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Crow is incredibly self-sacrificing and at times self-deprecating. Deep down he still holds himself accountable for Uldrens actions. To repent for his actions, he throws himself into risky missions sometime with little regard for his wellbeing. When he’s feeling the effects of nightmares, intrusive thoughts, and the horrors of Uldrens past he pulls away from everyone, choosing solitude rather than expressing to the people close and that care for him that he needs help and he’s struggling.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

After being freed from spider’s grasp Osiris gifted him a cloak made by Eva Lavante which quickly becomes one of his treasured possessions which he, almost excessively, makes sure is clean and pristine. He detests being dirty after missions and patrols so regularly showers and when he comes out of the shower smelling of your body wash and shampoo you can’t help but chuckle, his embarrassed mumbles of “it just smells nice” reaching your ears. You make sure to buy plenty of that brand from then on.

He takes care of his own hair, shaving it shorter on the side himself, very carefully with a mirror. He’s very surprised one evening when you approach him and offer to cut it for him. He eyes you suspiciously and on the promise that you won’t cut it too short or make him bald, he hands you the clippers. Soon it’s a regular thing that he lets you help take care of his hair.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You are crows’ sanctuary. A place away from the nightmares, haunting memories, and fear. Somewhere warm, safe, and calming. You keep him grounded, from running headfirst into trouble. He hasn’t felt whole in a long time, especially after getting back his memories as Uldren but with your help, he slowly feels like he’s reclaiming his image, his life, and his future.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Glint ADORES you. I mean adores you. The second glint saw you treating crow as crow and not Uldren, he thought you were brilliant. crow wasn’t amazing at selfcare so seeing you look after his guardian kept glint buzzing. Glint regularly finds place on your shoulder or lap when you’re relaxing with crow and crow thanks you when on rare occasion glints chatting gets a bit much and you take the chatter box into the next room, talk of ‘the headless ones’’ drifting through the wall, reaching crows ears, and making him chuckle.

One mission crow returns tired and worn out. While he’s asleep you notice that there’s a clear rip in his beloved cloak that’s left resting on the chair. When he wakes up to see you, needle in hand, occasionally cursing as the needle pricks your finger. He’s surprised to see you diligently sewing his cloak as glint whispers hushed encouragements. That’s when crow knew. That’s when he knew he picked the right person.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People who refuse to see him as crow and only see Uldren. He understands to a degree how hard it can be but when people throw Caydes death in his face over and over and over, it grates.

Crow wouldn’t like a partner who didn’t like glint, glints always been encouraging and sweet as well as protective of crow and it works the other way to. If you don’t get on with glint or glint doesn’t like you, it’s going to be a hard time getting any closer than friends.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This guy barely slept. He would take 2-to-3-hour long power naps at best when you first get to know him. Sat in the hanger, hidden amongst the crates cloak acting as a blanket. Leant against you as you read on the sofa, one of your hands in his hair putting him to sleep in seconds.

When you two begin sleeping in the same bed together, he’s worried about keeping you up, with nightmares, restless sleep and late nights but when you both lay in bed, his head on your chest and hand in his hair he melts. And for the first time since being resurrected he has a full night’s sleep, no nightmares, no waking up only hours later, no thrashing in his sleep, just blissful rest.

#destiny 2 #headcanon #x reader #uldren sov #destiny 2 crow #the crow destiny #sfw alphabet #sfw headcanons #crow x guardian #crow x reader

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Hi! I'd copy-and-pasted this request into my doc to write it, but now I can't find it in my inbox! I don't think it was anonymous, so if this is your request and it somehow got deleted, I'm very sorry! Thank you for requesting, apologies for the wait, and hope you like it <3

hi love!!! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!!! I absolutely adore your writing and if your requests are open I’d love it if you could right something about poly marauders with a reader who’s non-binary or gender fluid. Maybe they just got together and the reader hasn’t came out to them yet or something. Idk you get all the writing freedom, of course if you don’t want to write it’s totally fine!!! Thanks anyway 🫶💗🫶💗 xoxo

cw: marauders unknowingly misrepresent reader's pronouns+gender

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Sirius, no.” Remus rubs at his temples. “I will not mar you with a tattoo gun you bought from some bloke on the street.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Sirius complains, sitting spread out on his bed. “It'll be fun, you can all do it!”

“I’m on board,” James says from his own bed. He’s levitating his shoes about the room idly. “Hey Pads, can we draw anything we want?”

Sirius ponders this for a moment. “If you do a dick, it has to be small, and I’m putting an arrow with your name next to it.”

James’ smile fades, and he lets the shoes drop. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know,” you say to Remus, looking up at him from your chosen spot on the floor of their dorm. “It’s his body, I say let him cover it in shitty tattoos if that’s what he wants.”

“Yes!” Sirius hops down from his bed to throw an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That’s what I’m talking about, that’s my girl!”

You’d begun to glow at his over-the-top praise, but you dim at the last bit. Sirius must feel it; he looks over at you quizzically as Remus says for the fifth time, “That’s fine, but I won’t have anything to do with it.”

“Well, it’ll…” Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch you. You try to bury your discontent where he can’t see it, but once he catches a whiff of melancholy he becomes a dog with a bone. The levity slowly leeches from his voice. “It’ll be more fun if you all do it…Sorry, sweetheart, is everything alright?”

You don’t want the attention, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” you say softly, shoulders hunching forward. “Keep going.”

“No, that’s alright.” His slender fingers squeeze at your shoulder like he can tell you need the comfort. “It’s not actually important. What’s on your mind?”

You want to tell him. You want to tell all of them, you have for weeks, but is there ever a right time? When the boys had first asked you out, it felt too abrupt to say anything, like you were making a big deal out of nothing because they didn’t even know you all that well. But now you’ve turned serious faster than you could’ve seen coming, and they feel like they do know you that well. And the longer you go without telling them, the more like you feel like you’re keeping some dirty secret.

You should have just corrected them the first time they’d gotten your pronouns wrong. Each time feels like someone’s chipping away at your heart with a toothpick, the pain lessened by your surety in their good intentions but still very much there. It’s almost worse, now, to be on the precipice of falling in love with people who you don’t feel really know you, and it’s all your own fault.

This isn’t how you’d imagined the conversation coming about, but it might be the best chance you get for a while.

“I, uh.” You clear your throat, unsure if you should move out from under Sirius’ arm for this conversation but really not wanting to. “I don’t…listen, it’s not your fault, but I don’t really like it when you call me your girl.”

Sirius lets his arm drop to look at you properly, hurt flashing across his features. You take his hand, selfish thing that you are. “I mean it, it’s really not your fault.” It’s more plea than promise. “It’s just that I don’t—I don’t really see myself as a girl. I’m sorry.”

You watch confusion take hold in Sirius’ expression before letting your eyes flit to the other boys. James looks tentatively like he’s beginning to understand, and Remus’ face is carefully controlled. He leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at you.

“What do you mean by that, honey?”

You know the endearment is meant to soften the question, but you get all tense around the middle anyway.

“Just that…” You swallow, and James offers you a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t really see myself as any gender. It’s…it’s called nonbinary, I don’t know if you might’ve heard of it before? I’m really sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

“Hey, that’s alright.” James kicks a foot out from his bed, nudging your leg gently. “I’m really glad you told us, angel. Thank you.”

You try to return his smile, chewing your lip.

“Merlin, I thought you meant you didn’t want to be our girl,” Sirius sighs, bumping your shoulder with his. “That would have been unacceptable. You can be our something-else, though, if you like.”

This is going well, you tell yourself. They’re being as kind as you’d always expected. Still, you don’t feel like they fully understand what you’re so clumsily trying to tell them.

“I get it if this changes things for you,” you say, and when you lean away from Sirius’ touch, he doesn’t chase you. “I know this is…you signed on for a girlfriend, not this.”

The gentle smile drops from James’ face. His eyebrows twitch together uncertainly. “We…what? No, we didn’t…we didn’t ‘sign on’ for anything like that. We signed on for you.”

“Darling,” Remus says, in that careful, measured voice that you can’t decide if you should be nervous about, “I don’t know a lot about this, so correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point that you’re still you? You’re just telling us how you’d like to be treated and understood, right?”

You take a second to run over his words in your head before nodding.

Everything about Remus has gone soft, from his eyes to the gentle uptilt of his mouth. “Then James is right. Nothing has changed. I mean, we can make any changes to our relationship that make you more comfortable, but nothing about how much we care for you is any different.”

“And look around you, sweetheart.” Laughter livens Sirius’ tone. “It’s not like any of us are only dating girls.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “That’s a good point,” you mumble, and he laughs, arm reclaiming its spot around your shoulders.

“Yeah, I actually do make those sometimes,” he teases. “Listen, gorgeous, I don’t think anyone here has a problem with you being whoever you are. Just tell us what you like to be called, and we will. And if there’s anything we do that you don’t like,” he adds, giving your shoulder a little squeeze, “you can tell us those things too.”

James nods, emphatic. “Exactly. We want to support you, angel. Thanks for telling us, but just keep talking to us when you can, okay?”

You have to bite down on your lip to contain the full scope of your smile. “Okay,” you promise him, overflowing with a gratitude that feels a lot like love. “Thanks. You guys are too sweet to me.”

Remus makes a pfft sound. “Dove, I cannot believe that is your standard for sweetness. You’ve set the bar far too low.”

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