#it’s the love the looks and the sharp tongue
Note
AHH YAYAYAYAYAY I LOVE THIS SERIES SM IM SO GLAD YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTSSSS!! okay sooooo, i was wondering if you could do a lil continuation of the last part where spencer visits reader in prison and reader’s all confused because they never get visitors and then they see it’s spencer and get all excited (maybe spencer comes to tell reader that he spoke to the court or wherever is considering their appeal, idk how that whole process works lmao, and he’s told them that he believes reader isn’t a threat and that they should be moved to a psychiatric facility instead of staying in prison)
AHH OKAY LUV U BYE 🫶🫶🫶
THE FIRST VISIT
spencer reid&gn!unsub!reader || 2.2k || bloodied roses event!!
WARNINGS: sociopathic!reader, prison guards being dicks, early-seasons!spencer
a/n — thank you mllll 🫶 glad you like the series <333
main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ unsub!reader masterlist!!
It’s been almost eight months since you returned to the California Correctional Institution. Back to the familiar concrete walls of your own personal hell and practically sitting stationary as the world span around you.
It was arguably worse than just giving you the death penalty, forced to live in a stupidly awful state of limbo where you did nothing but languish in your own boredom for 23 hours a day without so much as a pen and a piece of paper to satiate you—lest you stab someone with it during your ‘recreational’ hour outside your cell.
The progress of your appeal was slow, basically static, and whilst you weren’t surprised, it was beginning to frustrate you. Why would they drag everything out when you knew they were just going to reject you anyway?
It was stupidly idiotic and a waste of everyone’s time, including yours.
There’s a sharp knock on the door of your cell, then someone slides open the metal hatch, leaving a grating sound in its wake.
“Hands.”
The borderline condescension in his tone makes you want to shove his tongue down his throat, but you know when to pick your battles, so you stick both of your hands through the slot palms up and wait for the familiar cold metal of handcuffs against your wrists.
They’re far too tight as they’re clamped shut, pinching your skin uncomfortably to the point where you’re sure it’ll leave marks, and you bite back the urge to curse out the guard his clear incompetence as he unlocks the door and pulls you out by the metal connecting your hands.
His expression matches his rashness as he forces you down the corridor with another guard to his side, and you swear that if you weren’t acting on your best behaviour for the minuscule chance that they did actually approve your appeal you would’ve given the two a piece of your mind already.
“Where are we going?”
No answer.
“Why am I out of my cell?”
“Shut up before I muzzle you.”
Oh the urge to punch that man in the face.
You settle for a side eye that would probably be the only thing the State Officials needed to reject your appeal knowing how much they despised you for existing, and the rest of the walk is finished in a thick blanket of silence.
The room they lead you into is technically two, lined by a thick pane of glass that splits the room in half, an uncomfortable looking metal chair and floating table with a rotary phone on either side.
“Sit down.”
A small flare of your nose is the only display of your rising anger, your paper-thin composure shrivelling millimetre by millimetre every second you’re forced to look at his stupid face.
You sit down with an air of curiosity. It was very clearly a visitation room you’d been led to, but who in their right mind would choose to visit you? Who had the leeway to get to visit you from inside one of the highest security prisions in the state when getting access to do so was almost impossible?
You just hoped it wasn’t someone from the appeal board. They were always so monotonous and boring.
You sit waiting for almost five minutes, watching the barred clock on the wall tick away until there’s a click from one of the exterior doors and then the door on the other side of the room opens.
And the vexation in your expression shifted into something much more resembling amusement.
The sounds of the chair being dragged out from the table is muffled through the glass, as is the sound of him sitting down, but when he picks up the phone on his table a sharp ringing echoes through the one on yours as a physical show of his presence.
You watch it ring for a few seconds before you turn your attention to the guard standing behind you, and you hold your wrists up towards him expectantly, watching the indignation rise in his face as reluctantly pulls out the keys to remove your handcuffs.
The freedom of your wrists is short-lived though, and almost immediately after you’re uncuffed, your dominant hand is dragged back down to the table to be cuffed against it, a loud thud emanating from it at the edge of your hand catches on its edge.
You’re less perturbed under the presence of your visitor, but you’re sure the seething anger is present enough in your eyes for the guard to see it nonetheless.
Regardless, with one hand free of restraint, you pick up the ringing phone and hold it to your ear, leaning back in your chair with an almost entertained expression.
“Doctor Reid, came all the way to California to visit little old me?”
There’s a small twitch in the corners of his mouth as he restrains himself from smiling at your tone.
He shouldn’t be smiling at a serial killer. Especially not inside a maximum security prison with four guards present.
“I told you I would,”
“That you did,” You give a small nod of acknowledgment against the phone at his statement, eyebrows raised ever so slightly to break the otherwise barren planes of your face. “Didn’t think you’d go through with it,”
“It wasn’t easy,” Spencer lets out a small breath of a laugh, pressing his lips together awkwardly. “There was a lot of paperwork involved,”
He’s mildly embarrassed by his confession, that he’d jumped through so many hoops to be able to visit you like he told you he would. That he’d flown across the country to see you whilst lying to the team that he was going to visit his mother.
“That’s a lot of effort,” There’s a small scrunch of your eyebrows at your response, not a show of sympathy for everything he’d done to be there in person but more of judgement that he’d put himself through it at all.
You hadn’t asked him to visit you. He told you he would, and followed through on it of his own fruition.
“I thought it’d be better to speak to you in person rather than over the phone,”
“You’re still speaking to me over a phone Dr Reid,” You jostle the phone in your hand slightly as a show of your point, and the small quirk of your mouth tells him that you’re joking with him.
“You know what I mean,” Spencer’s expression mirrors yours in the way he almost smiles, and he lets out a short breath of light-hearted exasperation. “I wanted to see you, not just hear you,”
“Well,” You make an outward gesture with your freehand as you lean against the back of your chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re seeing me,”
That he is. You don’t look quite like you did when you joined the BAU on the case, a little paler, thinner, your hair is a little longer and there’s a notable number of bruises covering your arms.
He doesn’t need an eidetic memory to know where those have come from. Although the sound of your wrist hitting the edge of the table at the start of conversation would definitely be stapled into his mind for a while.
“So then, what constitutes a visit from you Dr Reid?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your appeal,”
Any and all whisper of minuscule enjoyment at Spencer’s presence evaporates from your face the minute the word ‘appeal’ comes out of his mouth. It’s honestly fascinating just how fast your demeanour changes, although he’s not sure why it would, surely your appeal would be something of interest to you, not something you actively don’t want to talk about.
“Seriously? You fly all the way over here and you want to talk about my appeal? You do realise this—” You gesture back and forth between the two of you, “—is the one hour I get out of my cell today right? I’m not going to spend it talking about the stupid appeal.”
Seemed like he’d hit a sore spot.
“I just wanted to say that it’s looking pretty good for you,” He cuts straight to the point, not wanting to ruffle you more than he unintentionally had but also wanting to make sure that the main reason for his visit in the first place— apart from the fact that you’d inhabited a corner of his brain for the last eight months and wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried—was actually aired out.
You let out a small scoff into the phone’s receiver, and it’s almost grating as it meets Spencer’s ears. “You don’t have to lie to me Dr Reid, I know they’re just dragging everything out until they can find a reason to reject it.”
“They have three weeks before the deadline for their decision, they won’t find anything,” There’s an air of confidence in Spencer’s assessment, but it doesn’t do anything in chipping away your preconceived notion of failure.
“I submitted a report on the BAU’s behalf,” He is decidedly less confident in admitting that second part, left hand subconsciously reaching towards the rolled up sleeve on his right arm to ease the nervous tension in his hands. “To try and support it through the final stages,”
“Leave your arm alone.” You seem to almost completely disregard what Spencer says, and he practically does the same himself as his eyes flicker down towards where his left hand is absentmindedly scratching at the inside of his right elbow, leaving red streaks on his skin.
He pulls his hand away with his lips pressed taut into a line, stuffing it into his pocket so he can’t be tempted to do it again. “Sorry,”
“What did you write in your report?” You’re over it before he can even get his apology out, and he clears his throat to regain his sense of composure, tightening his grip on the phone so it doesn’t slip out of his hand under the small film of sweat coating his palm.
“You uh— displayed a lot of your humanity on the case, especially towards your family, and I thought it’d be beneficial for the officials considering your transfer to know that fact,”
You let out a small exhale through your nose, lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. He could almost believe that you were grateful for his contribution, but then you started speaking and the condescension in your tone was enough to tell him that you were definitely not displaying ‘gratefulness’.
“That’s not gonna do jack shit,”
Spencer sighs softly, eyes flickering downwards for a second in ever so slight disappointment in your reaction to his attempt at helping you.
He doesn’t really know what he was expecting from you, but having you disregard it so easily definitely blew the wind out of his sails a little bit.
“You’d be surprised I think,” His attempt at redeeming himself isn’t the most thought through thing he’s ever done, but then again he’s sat in a maximum security prison talking to a serial killer, so arguably he’s done worse. “In cases like yours for ASPD, having someone as a witness of your humanity could really help out your chances,”
“Yeah we’ll see about that,” You don’t seem as frustrated with him as you do disbelieving. Like no matter what evidence he tried to provide you of your decently likely chance of actually getting a transfer you’d made it up in your mind that it was never going to happen.
“Do you… want the appeal to go through?”
You scoff. “What kind of question is that?”
”It’s just, you’ve decided that it’s not going to go through, don’t you— I don’t know, want it to?”
”Of course I do.”
“Then—” Spencer presses his lips together with a short sigh. “…have some faith, If not in me being able to help you then at least in yourself,”
There’s silence over the line for a few seconds, and Spencer can see the cogs turning in your brain as you decide how you want to respond.
You don’t get the chance to.
“That’s it. Ten minutes is over.”
The phone is practically snatched from your hands to be placed back on the receiver, and there’s a sharp end-dial on Spencer’s before he puts his own phone down and readies himself to stand.
The roughness in the guards as the pull you from your seat and re-cuff you is almost aggressive, and the self-restraint you put on yourself to not respond to it is so decadently on display that it’s proof enough for him to believe your appeal will go through.
He hopes that your appeal goes through.
If for nothing else at least so you don’t get dragged around like a ragdoll by the people who are supposed to be reforming 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#unsub!reader#bloodied roses 🥀
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Chapter 2: Confessions for You
My Rival Series
Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.
Chapter Summary: Y/n already is losing herself to her studies as competition looms closer and closer.
A/n: Gif credits to @elizabetholsens
Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing, Alcohol, Puking, Memory Loss? (ish)
Word Count: 5.1k
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
Last Month - Spring Semester
‘I fucking hate losing to her.’ Y/n’s fists were tightly clenched as she saw Wanda celebrate another perfect score. The glimmer in her eyes almost made Y/n’s vein burst from anger. The competition was in three weeks and the last day of school was in four weeks.
It's been almost a month since she spoke to Dean Holloway about her scholarship. Since then, Y/n’s mental health has extremely deteriorated. The lack of sleep and the inability to eat was catching up to the bright student.
She was making more mistakes in math club, simple ones that even the freshman could do with their eyes closed. Her confidence has gotten lower and lower the more she was unable to perfect her craft.
And as Y/n stared at the ninety nine written on her test, all emotion was devoid from her. She was tired. Something that Wanda had noticed. The brunette had kept up on her usual appearances around Y/n. She taunted Y/n slightly over scores, grinned at every question she got right at math club, and overall proved to everyone why she was number one.
But that wasn’t to say that the brunette didn’t notice all the changes happening to Y/n. If anything, Wanda was the first to notice all the changes. She noticed the appearance of deeper eyes bags, the short temper Y/n had over small mistakes, and even worse, the lack of focus Y/n had during lectures.
There were other changes too like the way Y/n no longer engaged at all to Wanda’s banter. Instead, she would walk away, fists clenched, as if Y/n was holding herself back. Or the times that Wanda no longer spotted Y/n with her friends at all. It was like she was distancing herself from everyone she knew.
While Wanda tried her best to look out for Y/n, all her kindness turned bitter when she thought of that meeting.
Sitting across from each other, the two were finishing their project, looking over the final draft before submitting it. Wanda was looking over Y/n’s part of the essay when she came across a large paragraph that contained a lot of circular reasoning and hardly any sources.
Wanda circled it and leaned forward to show Y/n. “Hey, you made a mist-,” Y/n snatched the paper, already rereading the paragraph at lightening speed. Her shoulders were tense as she squinted her eyes to read the paper better.
“You didn’t explain your side well enough. I see what you’re trying to say but you end up using circular reasoning to back up your point rather the the sources we’ve gathered.”
Feeling already embarrassed enough from math club, Y/n had enough. She got up, causing the chair to make a horrible screeching noise. Wanda grimaced at the sound as she noticed Y/n packing up.
“Where are you-”
“Fuck off, Maximoff. I don’t need your input.” Wanda was caught off guard at Y/n’s hostility, but the smart girl had a sharp tongue and there was no way in hell she was going to allow Y/n to talk to her like that.
“Clearly you do when you’re making basic mistakes like that.” Y/n scoffed as she stuffed her backup.
“Always quick to call out someone’s mistakes. Would love for the day someone laughs at yours.” Wanda got up, her chair making the same awful sound.
“Why are you being so rude? We are doing a peer review. What did you expect? That I let you mess up my grade.” Y/n rolled her eyes as she swung her backup over her shoulder. The zipper was barely over the arch, the swing almost causing her backup to open up. Y/n grabbed the remainder of her stuff and held it.
“You’re the last person I would ever call my peer. Do what you have to Maximoff but I’m fucking done here.” Y/n left without another word.
Wanda stood at her spot, offended at the fact that Y/n even snapped at her. What was worse, she genuinely felt hurt by Y/n’s tone. Y/n had never spoken to her like that, not in the three years they’ve known each other.
So as she grabbed her stuff, her paper being last, Wanda didn’t notice the lack of marks on her paragraphs. All she noticed was the painful feeling in her heart left by Y/n.
“Okay everyone, let's please settle down so we can talk about the format for this upcoming state competition.” Up at the front of the lecture hall stood Y/n and Wanda. Naturally they stood a couple of feet apart as Wanda took the lead of the meeting.
“This year we have the amazing honor of bringing in three teams to represent Evergreen University. Fortunately for us, Dean Holloway was able to get the approval to send in another team this year.” There were several claps coming from the students as Y/n somberly looked at the floor.
‘He just wants to increase the odds of me losing.’ Y/n thought. Noticing that Y/n was not paying attention, Wanda shook her head and continued with the announcement.
“As tradition has it, we will hold a bracket competition for those that would like to compete. Each team will have four slots to fill. Naturally as your co-captains for the club, we will only have 10 slots available for those that want to participate.”
Wanda walked over to Y/n, giving her a slight pat on the back as she walked past her. “Your co-captain will list off how the competition will go.”
Y/n cleared her throat, regaining her focus as she addressed the crowd. “In order to better assess senior and new member abilities, we will be holding a kahoot style competition as this will best mirror the real competition.”
Walking away from Wanda, “In order to avoid embarrassment of who did or did not get the answer correctly, we will be using the clickers that the University has provided our club. On the sign up sheet, I will write down your name beside the clicker number. The top ten members will receive a place for the competition. However, the members that place 11th through 13th will constitute as our substitutes in the case of anything happening to our members.”
Y/n sat over to the desk of clickers, ready to write. “For those that are not wanting to participate but would like to see who has made it to our team, you are more than welcomed to stay as the questions on the screen will provide great practice. You may start lining up now for your clickers.” Wanda ended her speech with a gratuitous smile.
A long line of students started to form as Y/n wrote each name down. Coincidentally enough, the first two clickers were reserved for Wanda and Y/n. Unbeknownst to Y/n, she wrote Wanda’s name at first and her name being second. Even her subconscious knew the truth.
So as Wanda got the questions ready, Y/n sat at the table, away from everyone, hoping that her extreme hours spent studying were going to be worth it. Y/n looked at Wanda who sat with some of her friends in the club. There was still that stupid smile on her face.
‘Eat dirt.’ Was all Y/n thought as the first question popped up on the screen.
“Wait - you’re unable to pick me up when spring semester ends? Why?” Y/n sighed, still feeling the bitterness from math club as she sat under a tree that observed the Hodgekins Math building.
“I’m sorry honey - your father and I are going to attend an important meeting for his company in Europe. Unfortunately, we were unable to reschedule it as your father’s clients were only able during that time to discuss the merge factors. I do hope you understand.”
Y/n’s eyes teared up, feeling lower than ever before as she spotted Wanda finally leaving the building, the brunette’s words still in her mind.
“How are you expected to lead when you can’t even get in the top ten?” Wanda whispered as she smiled at the students who made the team. “If you can’t even score top five, how can I trust you? Get your head back or I’m going to have to get someone else to fill your spot.”
“Can you at least send Percy to help me out?” Y/n wiped her tears before they got a chance to fall. The weight of everything was crushing her down and it felt like no one even noticed.
“Of course. He’ll be there to help you. How is school going by the way? Are you having fun? Your grades still okay?” Y/n leaned back on the tree, making sure no one was nearby.
“It's been…okay. My state competition is less than a month away and I’ve been trying my best to study a lot for it.” Y/n bit her cheek, the feeling of losing gripped her heart. “But other than that, my grades are still good.”
Y/n couldn’t see it, but her Mom was smiling on the other end of the phone. “Is that girl - what’s her name - oh yeah, Wanda, still there?” Y/n froze at the mention of the brunette, even worse, Wanda was oddly walking in her direction.
“Mom - I really don’t want to talk about her.” It’s like no matter what, Wanda somehow managed to pop up everywhere in her life.
“Well, it has been a while since you’ve talked about her. I was starting to think she was no longer around.” Y/n knew when her Mom was acting oblivious and this happened to be one of those moments.
“Mom-”
“You know if you can’t stand it just come back home. Your father is more than happy to help you get enrolled into-”
“Mom - I’m not going to Langford University. Dad can keep wishing but I will stay at Evergreen University.” The topic of Langford and her father was always a strain. While Y/n’s father was an alright man and honestly a great father, his vision for Y/n’s future never aligned for what his daughter wanted.
Ever since she got accepted to Evergreen University, their relationship grew complicated. He even stopped calling after Thanksgiving break of her first semester in college. While Y/n did have a better relationship with her mother, it was still complicated nonetheless.
“Look, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later Mom. Bye - love you.” Y/n hung up before her mother said anything back. The brunette that’s been in her mind stood right in front of her with a blank look on her face.
“What do you want?” Wanda rolled her eyes at Y/n’s hostility. She hadn’t even said a word and she’s already managed to piss Y/n off. Had it been earlier in the year, Wanda would have enjoyed just how quick she could get under Y/n’s nerves. But now, Wanda couldn’t stand Y/n either.
Taking a deep breath, Wanda calmed her anger and said, “Have you thought about what I said?”
Standing up, Y/n wiped any possible dirt from her pants and glared at Wanda. “Don’t even think about replacing me. I’ll be at the competition and I’ll make sure that my group wins it all.”
“You better be on your A-game at our next practice. If not, I’m pulling you.” Y/n’s jaw clenched at Wanda’s threat. Who was she to call the shots? They were co-captains after all.
“Don’t worry your pretty head about me, Maximoff. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
‘I need to focus.’ It was a weeknight. As usual, Y/n was using this time to study for math club. Wanda had sent out a new packet for the competitors to use as practice for the real competition.
For a majority of the questions, she had gotten ninety seven out of the hundred correct. But Y/n was on the brink of losing it all. She knew that any wrong answer would immediately lead to a Maximoff victory and that was the last thing she wanted.
‘I need to be perfect.’ Erasing her calculations, Y/n redid it but still wasn’t able to match to the correct answer. Tightening the grip on her pencil, Y/n tried to not let this get to the best of her. But the constant sound of Natasha practicing her guitar started to aggravate her.
In addition small music was already playing in the background, something Natasha was trying to play along with. So when Y/n redid her calculations once more and still got the wrong answer, she could feel her anger start to resurface. Still, she maintained her best composure and erased the wrong answer. \
Retrying for the third time, Y/n was close to reaching the correct answer when her pencil tip broke. ‘Just bad timing. That’s all. Get a new pencil and move on.’ She spoke internally. But the rational thoughts mixing with her anger were not a good combo.
Was she hallucinating or was Natasha’s music suddenly getting louder? Ignoring it, Y/n grabbed a new pencil when the sound of a new email alerted her attention to her laptop. Going to Outlook, Y/n looked at the new email, its subject already signaling alarms in her head.
Dean Holloway
New Scholarship Requirements
Feeling all sorts of anger and embarrassment, Y/n broke her pencil and slammed her computer shut. Standing up quickly, Y/n looked at Natasha, and without thinking, said, “Can you please cut that shit off?”
Y/n was already fuming with anger, not caring if she pissed her best friend at all. At first, Natasha looked shocked at Y/n’s outburst, quickly turning the music off. But the realization of Y/n’s tone offended Natasha.
“What’s up with you?” Natasha placed the guitar up against the wall. Y/n had never yelled at her like this before.
“I need to study and I can’t when you’re distracting me.” Y/n waved towards the direction of the speakers and the guitar as if it was so obvious.
“You could have asked nicely rather than being a dick about it.” Natasha did not like Y/n’s tone one bit. While they were best friends, Natasha did not take shit from anyone.
“You could have been considerate of other people in the room rather than assuming.” Natasha scoffed knowing that this was not the first time she played music in front of Y/n. Heck, she always played music ever since freshman year of high school. Natasha could vividly recall the amount of times she asked Y/n in the beginning days of them dorming. Y/n would always respond with a smile, saying she never minded. So why would things change now?
“Bullshit - tell me the real reason.” Natasha stood up and crossed her arms, not giving into Y/n’s lie.
“I’ve had enough. Maybe that’s the reason.” Natasha rolled her eyes. She walked closer to Y/n, quickly lifting her shirt up to expose just how skinny she had gotten.
“You’ve hardly been eating.” Feeling defensive, Y/n backed up, pushing her shirt back down. “You hardly sleep anymore. Not only that, I’ve barely been able to speak to you without you running away to study. Something is up. So tell me.”
Y/n glanced down to the floor. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of a way to get out of this. Guilt consumed her as quickly as her anger did. And now, she doesn't know what to say.
So when the red head saw her friend silently cry, her shoulders dropped and immediately went in for a hug. “Whatever is eating you up, just please tell me. I’ll make sure to help you through it so you don’t have to go through it alone.”
‘If I’m not perfect…I’m going to lose you.’ But as Y/n clutched on to Natasha, no words escaped her mouth for the redhead had enough to worry about.
Day Before Competition - Spring Semester
“I can’t believe you’re actually going to a party.” Y/n looked over the simple outfit she had on, blue jeans, loose white shirt, and converse. This was the first time she was going to a party, vividly recalling the multiple lies she’s used to get out of one in the past.
“I don’t understand why this one is suddenly mandatory for club members to go to. We literally have a competition tomorrow.” Today was supposed to be spent for late night studying, but according to Wanda’s orders, this was a must for all twelve members.
“Who cares? I know you’re going to do well.” Natasha says behind Y/n. The red head admired Y/n’s outfit before looking eyes with her through the mirror. “You’ve been studying your ass off. I just know tomorrow is going to be your day.”
Y/n didn’t want to overthink Natasha's words. Ever since she outlashed that night, she refused to for her anger to get the best of her even though her circumstances weren’t so great. Offering Natasha a wide smile, Y/n said, “I’ll be only drinking one cup tonight but nothing else. I can’t be too drunk.”
“And I’m going to do the opposite, I will be getting drunk especially since finals are this upcoming week.”
‘I want to leave.’ Hours into the party, the crowd grew more alive. More people were in the center dancing while many small groups formed around the frat house. The backyard was filled with people vaping or smoking.
Y/n didn’t quite recognize all that attended the party. If she was being honest, people started to come even when they weren’t part of a club. There were a few outliers from chemistry and movie club, but other than that, the crowd was overwhelming.
Sipping on the last few bits of her drink, Y/n watched Natasha with a small buzzing feeling. The red head was downing her fifth shot. A smirk was wide spread on her face as she wiped the small bits of tequila that were on the corner of her mouth. The crowd around her cheered as the next person got their shot ready.
Natasha walked to where Y/n was standing and stood beside her. Feeling touchy, she decided to lay her head on Y/n’s shoulder and observed the crowd. She knew a lot of the outliers from the many parties she’s been to. Plus, with how outgoing of a personality Natasha had, a lot of people gravitated towards her.
But no matter how many people Natasha was friends with, Y/n was always her favorite. The two were opposites but that made the friendship even better. The red head always viewed Y/n as the black cat that never wanted to be petted. But the day she was finally allowed was one that Natasha always remembers.
“Having fun?” Y/n could smell the alcohol from Natasha’s breath but didn’t mind.
“A little bit. This drink is helping me not stress so much though.” Natasha smiled at Y/n’s confession. The two didn’t really have a long talk about her outburst many nights ago. And while Natasha always had her guesses, she remained at Y/n’s side, never wanting her best friend to feel alone.
As for Y/n, vowed to keep her anger in check. While she did still feel irritated at times, she focused on not letting her anger consume her as much. Even with the given circumstances, it wasn’t fair to Natasha or any of her friends to get the short end of the stick. It wasn’t their fault for the way things were.
“Ya know Nat, for this party to have mandatory attendance, I have not seen Wanda or any of the math club members anywhere.” Natasha looked around the crowd that was in the dance room and couldn’t spot the all too familiar brunette at all.
“That’s weird. Did y’all agree for a meet up spot?” Y/n shook her head no.
“I haven’t even gotten a text from Wanda. She’s usually on top of these things.” The two watched for a moment, letting the loud music fill the comfortable silence between them. Wanting to get another shot, Natasha almost left when she saw Wanda amongst the crowd.
“Why does Wanda affect you so much?” Y/n almost hadn’t heard Natasha’s question, but when Y/n followed the direction of her gaze, she knew.
“She doesn’t affect me.” Although it was a small buzz, the ability to lie knowing she had drunk a little was all the confidence Y/n needed.
“Well you talk about her,” Natasha pointed out. “Plus, anytime she’s around, you end up bickering for a while. Sometimes you would go on rants talking about what she said to you during class.”
The blush that appeared on Y/n’s cheek was hard to spot in the dark setting. The brown eyed girl clutched on her red solo cup, feeling embarrassed that she was easily called out with compelling evidence.
Looking back at Wanda, Y/n could feel her heart rate increase as she saw her talking to other people. There was this different aura surrounding her. Maybe it was the drink or maybe it was the fact that she seemed to really enjoy herself. Like academics wasn’t the only thing she excelled in.
“Is she the reason you’re acting so differently lately?” Natasha lifted her head as she felt Y/n stiffen up. Feeling like she overstepped, the red head was about to spout an apology.
“Yeah,” Y/n continued to look at Wanda. Even though it was rude to blame the situation on her, it was easier to admit it than speak the truth. “It’s just..I hate Wanda Maximoff. I hate her face and the way she hides her freckles. I hate her smile and how perfect she laughs. I hate how smart she is and how she knows everything. I hate her.” Y/n complained.
But how could she hate the girl that always took number one in everything? How could she hate the girl that captivated her mind 24/7? How could she hate the girl she would willingly be number two for?
And as Natasha looked back at Wanda then Y/n, a realization suddenly hit her. ‘You like her.’ But Natasha didn’t dare to confess this outloud but it was so obvious. ‘What else would eat her up this way?’ Natasha thought.
On the other side of the party, Wanda could feel eyes on her. Looking around the room, she finally connected to the brown eyes she knew well. Unknowingly, the sight of Natasha being so close aggravated the brunette for some reason.
But all Wanda could focus on was how soft Y/n’s stare was. There was no jealousy or bitterness about them. And that captivated Wanda even more because this was the first time that Y/n had ever looked at Wanda that way.
Suddenly, all the air shifted in the room, and Wanda couldn’t help but think, “Why does she hate me?”
Natasha left after her tenth shot as her girlfriend dragged her away. Feeling no reason to stay any longer, Y/n made her way out the frat house when she bumped into Wanda.
The red head was unable to stand up straight, almost falling if it weren’t for Y/n’s arms. “Hey - hey - are you okay?”
Here was the gaze again, the same one Wanda felt half an hour ago. It was almost too much to handle the first time, leading Wanda to drink even more. It was stupid, nonetheless, Wanda was drunk and the very reason why was the same one holding her.
Feeling too much, Wanda leaned away as she puked into the bush. Almost wanting to puke from the sight, Y/n held Wanda’s hair back as she patted her back. “There - there.”
Y/n looked around and was thankful that no one was here to witness this scene. As much as she hated Wanda, Y/n didn’t want this image to be in people’s heads.
Standing back up, Wanda teared up, hating the feeling of puking.
“Hey - it’s gonna be okay.” Not knowing what compelled her to do this, Y/n used the bottom of her shirt to wipe Wanda’s mouth. She didn’t care if puke got on her. The idea of Wanda crying infront of her was worse than puke.
“Let me take you back home. You can’t walk in these conditions.” Was Y/n thankful that Wanda had bumped into her? No…well at least that’s what she would say out loud. But as Y/n walked Wanda back to her dorm, the awful thought of Wanda unsafely walking by herself at night made her sick.
Arriving to dorm 321, Y/n swiped the key card, opening the door to a cold room. Carefully leading Wanda to her bed, Y/n lifted the white duvet, allowing Wanda to crawl in.
When Wanda looked comfortable, Y/n looked around the room, noticing the minifridge at the corner. Opening it up, Y/n grabbed a water bottle and placed it at Wanda’s nightstand.
Although Y/n could leave, the sight of Wanda sleeping made her freeze. Many thoughts slipped through her mind, some that she would blame the alcohol on. But there was this worrying feeling in her heart as the thought of Wanda puking in her sleep crossed her mind.
No one would be able to help her in time considering she didn’t have a roommate. Groaning at her predicament, Y/n looked around the room. There was no spare pillow or blanket. It would be a rough night and the competition was soon. Looking at the clock on her wall, the bus would be ready to leave at 8:00 am giving Y/n around six and half hours to sleep.
Was it worth it to stay at all? Would Wanda be fine? But as Y/n helped Wanda turn on her side to sleep, the brown eyed girl knew her answer.
“Wanda, I’m going to be on the floor. If you need anything, just let me know.” There was no response from Wanda. Figuring she could leave before Wanda woke up in the morning, Y/n laid down on the ground, feeling cold from the intense air conditioning.
‘I can’t sleep if I’m freezing to death.’ The thought of using the rug below her as a blanket crossed her mind. Before she could say fuck it, Wanda’s voice caught her attention.
“Why do you hate me?” Glancing towards the bed, Y/n couldn’t see Wanda’s face from her view at the floor. Laying back down, Y/n looked at the ceiling, surprised that Wanda was even up.
“What makes you think that?” It was rude to dampen a drunk girl, that much was common sense for Y/n. So rather than outwardly admit anything, she rediverted it back to Wanda.
“I can’t recall a moment where you were kind to me.” Y/n froze as she thought about that moment back in the library, wondering if Wanda had her flannel in her dresser. “And I don’t think you’ve said a nice thing about me…so you must hate me.”
Oh how wrong Wanda was. Because the truth of it all, Y/n never hated Wanda. She could never hate the girl that pushed her to do her best everyday. She could never hate the girl that would go above and beyond for people that need help. She could never hate the girl she lived and breathed for.
“I have said nice things about you,” Y/n whispered. The two never spoke like this before and it terrified Y/n to even admit such things. “You just have to look inbetween the lines. You’re smart - so I guess I hoped you saw through them.”
Wanda was too drunk to really recall anything. She wanted so badly to ask but was afraid of the truth. “Are you ready for the competition?”
Looking back up, Wanda had scooted to the edge of the bed, her eyes connecting with Y/n. “I think so. Do you think you’ll win?”
Pulling the duvet away from her mouth, Wanda looked away as she said, “If I don’t, I’ll just disappoint my father.”
“You wouldn’t disappoint me.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. Had she not been drunk, the intensity of her words and stare would have made her combust.
But as the long night finally reached Wanda, she suddenly fell asleep before she could respond back. “Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me, Wanda.”
Competition Day - Spring Semester
Waking up to the sound of her alarm, Wanda panicked at the time. Immediately rushing to brush her teeth and change her clothes, she rushed out of her dorm, almost forgetting the important papers for the competition.
As she ran on to the bus, sparing ten minutes, she looked around to see that everyone besides two people were left. The migraine in her head was hard to ignore, regardless, Wanda was thankful that she made it on time.
Soon, the remainder of the team hopped on board, choosing a free row for themselves. Since it was a four hour ride, Wanda didn’t bother lecturing the team this early about the competition. She could do that later.
Finding a free row near the front, she sat down at the seat closest to the window. Cursing herself for even drinking so much, Wanda glanced over and noticed that Y/n was across from her. She had jeans and white shirt on with a weird stain at the bottom.
Wanda almost wanted to yell at her for not being in uniform when she noticed that she was asleep. Feeling another headache, Wanda focused on trying to find medicine in her backpack, the events of last night gone from her memory.
Taking an ibuprofen, Wanda pulled out her notes and studied some problems. And although she didn’t remember, the girl across from her did as she finally got some sleep, having been up all night making sure that Wanda was safe and sound.
Chapter 3
Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog
@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me
@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha
@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff
@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa @alyciaddict @justgotlizzied
@msmothermaximoff @ielliesitchyeyereposts @nothanksbye07 @unicorniusfallapatorius @misshelchwhen @marvelogic @emiliaisdead @tobiaslut
@fawnedolly @lizzieswife101 @viosblog112 @theenglishswiftie @chickenlittlsblog @starry-night17
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#My Rival#Rivals to Lovers#college au wanda maximoff#College AU#college!wanda maximoff#marvel#mionemymind#academic rivals
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hi ! i adore the way you write for arle ໒꒰ྀི´͈ ᵕ `͈ ꒱ྀི১ your writing in general is just always so amazing. i was wondering if you could write something for arle x chubby fem reader ? i feel like people rarely write for chubby reader, so it would be nice if you could whenever you had the time. 🩷 btw can i be 🪷 anon ?
hiii tysm i'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of arle ♡♡♡ also, yes!! emoji anons are always welcome.
i totally hear you, though. it's tough finding wlw fics already 😓😓 i hope this is okay!!!
(also, i got another ask for a similar concept, so i combined it here and got 2 birds with 1 stone)
(nsfw utc)
her claws, always so sharp, yet dulled on specific days- for moments like these. she kept them sharp enough for you to feel them, blunt enough to not hurt you.
her left hand slides up to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss while you shift around on her lap, trying to lean up on your knees. she grunts, moving her hand back down to your hips, shoving you down and holding you still.
"must you squirm around so much?" she asks, brows furrowing when you look away. she guides your chin back up to face her, frowning.
"aren't i... a little heavy to be sitting on your lap like this?" you ask, leaning back, gasping when her sharp nails dig in further to keep you in place.
"excuse me?" she asks, silencing your soft protests. "you think i cannot handle you? is that what you're implying?"
"no- i... i just..."
she squishes your cheeks together, pulling you in so your fuller chest presses to hers. she secretly indulges in the plush feeling, enjoying how cute you look with your lips puffed into a pout.
"do not presume to tell me what i can and cannot do. you are mine, and i am yours. i love every inch of you to pieces, just as you promised me the same. or do i need to remind you?" she asks, preventing you from speaking still.
you whimper, feeling her push you down to lay beneath her, shoving your shirt up and off of you. her nails lightly scrape over your stomach, cupping your breasts.
"perfect." she mumbles, pinching your nipples before leaning down to lap over them, feeling them peak under her touch. she kisses down your body, tenderly holding your waist, leaving little bites at your stomach, sliding her fingers into your panties.
you moan as her fingers swipe over your cunt, sliding your panties to the side to expose you. her eyes trace your slit, leaning down to place a kiss on your clit, eyes finding yours.
she shoved your thighs up, hands squishing them down against you, gripping the thickest part of them, leaving indents from how firmly she held you down. your moans increase in volume as she keeps you in place, sliding her tongue over your pussy, dipping it into your fluttering hole every so often.
she mumbles to herself in a language you're not sure you understand, considering your mind has gone fuzzy from her tongue on your clit. you can only assume her words are loving from how tenderly she sucks your clit, fucking you with her tongue.
once you cum on her tongue once, she lets your thighs sink back down, instead reaching up to kiss you again, hearing you whimper at the taste of yourself on her tongue.
"beautiful." she praises you, kissing down your neck, listening to your gentle moans. "you're perfect."
#🪷─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𐦍༺#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader smut#fem reader#genshin wlw#💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚#💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴#🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´#arlecchino x reader#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino genshin#arlecchino smut#arlecchino x y/n#arlecchino x you
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Bleeding hearts
Theme: nsfw
Summary: After being taken by the doppelganger of Francis, it was actually peaceful. But it seems another doppelganger wants you too
Pair: Izaack doppelganger & Francis doppelganger x chubby reader
Tw: monster fucking, double penetration, tentacle use, monster-like features, spanking, overstim, praise
Back? Stay? Nothing
art by: @sidhion
Ever since the copy of Francis took you, you actually felt loved. It was weird to say, how could a monster who killed many be built to love, but he apparently didn’t act like the rest of his kind.
You were curled in a bed, though you felt small, it was two times your size! Well, it’s to accommodate the large copy who is currently enjoying himself.
His head rests on your exposed breast, his hot breath hitting your nipple. He seemed to enjoy skin contact, often complaining about the texture of clothes being rough.
He liked how he could feel the heat of your body, the softness of your flesh.
But be fooled just because he’s a monster, he would never stain your flesh with blood. You even started to develop affection for the man, he treated you as a lover, not a blood bag.
His black tentacles wrapped around your thighs, and hip. He wanted to feel every inch of your body, greedy creature.
The deep purrs could be heard from the half asleep copy, you giggle. Your fingers comb through his slicked hair, untangling any knots.
“What’s so funny?” Francis grumbles, peeking up at you.
It was weird to call him Francis, he definitely wasn’t him. But he told you to just call him Francis, he really did know about the crush you had on the real Francis.
Looking at him reminds you of the old Francis, the man who you'll never see again. Hopefully he’s doing good in this forsaken world.
“Oh nothing~” you coo, smiling down at the man who snuggles closer to your breast.
His heated breath hits the poor hard nipple, making the numb harden even more. Francis perks up when he hears a quiet shuffle, his tentacles unwrapping around your body.
“What a cute mate you have, old friend~ though I wished I was able to get to her first” a voice chuckles, you could hear the anger in his voice though he tried to conceal it.
Francis’s grip on your body tightens, pulling you closer to him. Emerging from the shadows was a man who looked like Izaack, except with sharp claws and scales.
He sends you a grin, sharp canines visible. You couldn’t help but to shiver, they could pierce through flesh with ease.
“It’s a crime to keep a pretty human hidden from your best friend..” Izaack says, his grin dropping when he talks to Francis
They definitely weren’t “friends” as Izaack makes them sound like, something happened between them. The black claws on Francis's hand threaten to tear the blanket, anger coasting through his blood.
“Mmh, you missed the point that she’s mine.. not yours” Francis says, claws poking holes into the blanket.
“Oh.. but we used to share everything together, did you forget?” Izaack fake pouts, he was pushing Francis.
Izaack fake pouts, grinning when you give him a weirded look. He chuckles, stepping closer to you and Francis.
“Old times, don’t push your luck” Francis threatens, the tentacles of his pointing at Izaack with eerie intentions.
“Oh come on~ you wouldn’t mind sharing her with little ol’ me? She looks so delicate, so delicious” Izaack grins, licking his lips.
Your eyes widened in shock, not only was his tongue snake-like, but he has four! Almost as he knew the effect he had on you, he chuckles.
“She seems curious, won’t you let me show her my tricks~? I promise I won’t bite her, unless she wants~” He coos, his footsteps echoing around the room as he walks closer to you.
Francis takes a glance at you, the gleam of curiosity filled your eyes, you really were interested in this punk. He sighs, his finger rubbing on your plush hips.
“Mmh, as long as she’s fine with it..” Francis grits, glaring at Izaack.
Izaack sends you a wink, his eyes filled with a lustful stare. Izaack now was close to you, his hand rubbing on your exposed thigh.
“What do you say, sweetheart?” Izaack says, leaning closer to your face.
You look at Francis for a split second, turning to look back at Izaack with a nod. Izaack sends you a charming smile, clearly happy you agreed.
His clawed hands cup your breast, tracing the stretch marks that cover the mound. He carefully squeezes your breast, careful to not prick you with his knife-like nails.
Izaack’s tongues swirl around your nipple, the constant stimulation making you whimper. You could feel something rubbing on your cunt, Francis’s tentacles rubbing up and down your clit.
You let out a choked gasp, one of Francis’s tentacles sink deep in your cunt. You your moans fill the room as the tentacle inside your cunt pokes at your walls, rubbing on your g-spot.
“Does that feel good? I bet it does, your moaning so loud~” Izaack coos, peppering kisses to your neck.
You nod your head, spreading your thighs wider to give Francis more access. You tense up feeling another tentacle sink into your hole, slowly pumping in and out to loosen you up.
You grab at Francis's hands, leaning your neck back. You could feel Izaack’s tongue rubbing down your neck, nibbling on your sweet spot.
Francis pushes you down to the bed, your face resting in the pillow with your ass in the air. You could feel someone’s hand squeezing at the flesh of your ass, giving the area a smack.
“I think the guest of honor should go first” You could Izaack say, you could already imagine the glare Francis sent him.
“Not happening” Francis sighs, pressing his hard cock on your cunt.
“So cruel..” Izaack taunts, holding your hands to keep you from scrambling away.
Francis slowly sinks his cock into your cunt, his tentacles stimulating your clit. Your eyes roll back, biting on the pillow to stifle your moans.
The feeling of Francis’s cock dragging slowly in and out of your cunt, plus the stimulation on your clit was enough to bring tears in your eyes. A pair of hands gently lift your head from the pillow, kissing your lips.
You moan, multiple tongues exploding your mouth. Izaack grunts in a satisfied tone, pulling back from your already so swollen lips.
A thin sheet of spit connects your lips to his, a cunning grin on his face. You moan, looking back to see Francis who's moaning in pleasure as he slams his hips into your body.
“Aw, gonna cum already? Why don’t you show me how good you can be, sweet thing” Izaack chuckles, kissing your cheek.
You whine, closing your eyes in pleasure as you mouth shapes an O. Francis grunts in pleasure, slowly down his hips. Spurts of cum fills your womb, making you sigh.
“My turn now, little lover boy” Izaack say, shoving Francis away from your body.
Francis grunts, you could tell he wanted to say something snarky but he holds back. Francis whispers sweet nothings in your ear to distract you from the sting, Izaack was larger than Francis.
You groan, before letting out a gasp as you feel both of your holes being filled up. Izaack’s hand grab at your love handles, squishing the soft flesh.
“It’s ok my love, just relax from him” Francis says, peppering kisses on your tear stained face.
“That’s right, honey. Relax for me, let me take care of you better than that idiot could ever~” Izaack coos, chuckling when Francis growls.
You could see the shine in Francis's fangs, threatening to hurt Izaack. You couldn’t do much but moan, the pleasure making your head gone.
Izaack’s claws grab at the fabric of the pillow, pounding you into the bed. The base of Izaack’s cock has a white ring of cum, only getting more messier as you cum around his cock.
Francis’s tentacles twist your nipples gently, paying attention to the hard buds. Izaack groans as you clench tighter around his cock, your head buried into the pillows.
“Fuck.. she’s good, gonna cum for you, baby~” Izaack praises, his pace slowly getting sloppy.
“Mmh, don’t get too excited” Francis grunts, jealousy dripping from his voice.
Izaack only chuckles, slamming his hips. He says still, his hot cum filling your womb even more.
He slowly pulls out, watching cum drip from your abused cunt. He sighs, lying beside you.
“You should get used to me, friend. I don’t plan on leaving for a while, not when this cutie is here” Izaack teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
Izaack pulls your body closer, rubbing your shoulder. He buries your head in his chest, chuckling when he hears the soft snores from you.
Francis groans, moving closer to get the heat from your body. His fingers trace hearts on your love handles, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.
You slowly fall deeper in the embrace of sleep, hearing the quiet arguing between the two doppelgangers. Now you have two boyfriends, who are going to fight for your attention.
Taglist: @sidhion @ihatelifesm @mlkyshxrtcke
#chubby reader#female reader#fem reader#gn reader#smut#that’s not my neighbors smut#thats not my neighbor#thats not my neighbor x reader#That’s not my neighbor smut#thats not my neighbor x chubby reader#Tnmn#Tnmn x reader#tnmn x chubby reader#Tnmn smut#Izaack Tnmn#izaack x reader#izaack doppgänger#izaack smut#Francis tnmn#francis smut#milkman smut#milkman x reader#milkman x chubby reader#Izaack x chubby reader#francis doppelgänger#francis mosses#izaack gauss#francis x reader
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"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜" - 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
“Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”
You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult.
(Learning a new language is always hard at first)
gn reader, implied to be a short lived race
5,000+ words :o
tw: minor description of violence and blood
Post-canon Mithrun, could be considered spoilers
An ink black eye flickered up and landed on your face. You knew it was there. You always knew when it was there. The light shiver that ran down your back was like a cold finger languidly tracing every bump of your spine.
You didn’t know whether you liked it or not.
But you accepted it, for the most part.
Mithrun’s gaze was devoid of light as you met it. It was only natural for his prosthetic eye to be glassy and lacking in life. Yet, his remaining eye was like that as well. Fleki liked to joke that the captain had ‘dead fish eyes’ and you could see what she meant sometimes. Most of the time, though, you considered his gaze to be more like an endless pit. An endless pit that you were always on the verge of falling into.
But you managed to keep your balance— for the most part.
It didn’t help that Mithrun stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. If you were in an especially combative mood, you’d meet his gaze and stare back. His good eye would start to flicker a little, like when a cat slowly shuts its eyes. You once heard that cats slow blink to signify that they love you. But Mithrun wasn’t a cat. He was an elf. An elf who had a habit of trying to consume you with his gaze alone.
It was one of the days when you couldn’t help but return his look. You glanced up from your plate of food, fork in your left hand and your other hand fiddling with a napkin. Ever since the dungeon, Mithrun had become more physically expressive. He had his elbow on the table and his cheek resting in his palm. As his sleeve fell down his forearm ever so slightly, you could see a hint of a pale scar.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” You couldn’t help but ask. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop to think about the consequences or implications.
Mithrun only blinked. A slow blink.
“No,” he answered simply. His voice wasn’t what one would call particularly deep or rumbling, but it was scratchy. When you heard him speak for the first time, you wondered if he had ever drank a glass of water in his life.
And the lack of inflection in his tone was something you eventually got used to. With a sharp ear, you could pick up the lilts at the end of his sentences when he asked a question. You recognized when he was annoyed, when the growl in his throat got more pronounced. You knew when he was sad, when emotion thickened every word. It was all subtle, learned. And you were good at learning.
For the most part.
“I don’t mean physically,” you replied, returning your attention to the food on your plate.
“Then?”
“I mean—” What did you mean? You weren’t quite sure. You were sure of the fact that you didn’t want this particular vegetable as part of your lunch. So you lifted your plate and absently scraped it off onto Mithrun’s. He didn’t react.
He did, though, slightly raise his brow. He shifted to sit up a little, moving his palm to his chin instead, eyes still lingering on you like petrichor after a rain shower. The slight tilt of his head told you that he was expecting an answer.
You forced the words to the tip of your tongue. It was rare for you to keep your thoughts to yourself, especially around Mithrun. As unreadable as he could be, the assurance that it was difficult to genuinely offend him was comforting. Except, this instance was different. If you openly acknowledged his habit of staring, that was too close for comfort to a much bigger acknowledgement. Mithrun’s heart, and yours, were closely guarded, surrounded by layers of walls. He’d knocked down a few of yours. You’ve knocked down several of his. But going any further was risky, at least in your opinion. The walls were bigger and more well guarded and seizing them might not produce anything good, anything worthwhile.
But his head was tilted and he was watching you. You felt as if you were on a stage with a spotlight shining down on you.
Might as well get it over with.
“Staring,” you said, “don’t you ever get tired of staring?”
His good eye blinked. You’ve seen Mithrun surprised or shocked before, and you knew he wasn’t. Then, that meant he was expecting that question. He was aware of his staring and was doing it on purpose.
“No, I don’t get tired of it,” Mithrun said as he sat up straight, elbow slipping off the table. He grabbed his fork and began poking at the food you had scraped off onto his plate. Peeking just barely through his hair were the chewed, jagged tips of his ears. They flickered. Elves really couldn’t hide their emotions well, their ears tended to give them away.
The fact that he was feeling anything made your heart flutter. If only you knew what it was. It couldn’t be embarrassment or shame, those didn’t exist within Mithrun. Then what? What else could someone be feeling when called out for their habit of excessive staring?
“I mean, I’d just like to know why,” you said without thinking, again. It was rare for either of you to feel as if you needed to fill the comfortable silence you often shared, but at that moment in particular your heart was clenching and something unpleasant passed through your abdomen. The question had crawled up your throat and slipped out of your mouth.
“Why I stare at you?” He asked. You were seventy five percent sure it was a question. But sometimes, Mithrun would simply state something, not asking at all, just echoing. You could usually tell the difference in the lift of his voice. Subtle, but there.
“Yeah,” you met his gaze. Ink black. You started to teeter on the edge of the dark pit again. “Do you stare at everybody like that?”
“Do you ever see me staring at other people like this?”
No. And Mithrun knew that you didn’t. The question was hypothetical, designed to draw the answer out of you.
You felt your jaw tighten as you stared down at your food. You’d missed something, a little morsel of a vegetable you didn’t like. You promptly scraped it off onto Mithrun’s plate before answering him. “I guess I don’t.”
“And?”
Fire flickered to life inside your chest. “And what?” You snapped your gaze back to his, “What do you want?”
His brow raised, “You’re the one who wanted something.”
“I want to know why you’re always staring!”
“Why do you think?”
You couldn’t help but groan, burying your face in your hand, “Mithrun, please just give me a straight answer. I can’t handle this right now.”
“Why not?”
Glancing up, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. His ears flickered again. Was he enjoying this? As much as he could enjoy something, at least, which was more than before the dungeon.
That fire within you only grew taller and hotter and more destructive. The flames warmed your heart but also threatened to burn through your bones and muscles and ligaments and consume your body entirely. You didn’t know whether you wanted to smack Mithrun over the head, or grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close for a kiss.
Or both? Both were good.
You managed to resist the urge growing beneath your skin and instead shot him a weak glare, “Because— Because you’re not eating and it’s weird for me to be the only one eating right now, especially with you staring at me, watching me chew.”
Half true.
Mithrun’s nose wrinkled a little in thought. Slowly, he grabbed his fork and speared one of the unwanted vegetables you’d given him, finally eating. Relief flooded your body, until his gaze flickered back up to your face once more.
“Happy?” He asked before swallowing.
“Never,” you snarked back, “you’re still staring. Why?”
Did you want to know?
Another wall was crumbling and you were doing all you could to keep it from crushing you beneath bricks and emotions and emotional bricks. It was a mistake to ask that question, to even bring this subject up. You couldn’t go that far. You shouldn’t knock down those walls. You wouldn’t acknowledge the terrifying, unknown thing that had been growing between you and Mithrun ever since he’d decided to live.
You remembered that day. Celebrations surrounded you. Mithrun’s hand clenched the grass beneath him, the only betrayal of his feelings at the time. His knuckles turned white, but he finally let go as the realization, the emptiness, settled in; acceptance of the fact that he had nothing to live for anymore.
You remembered the relief when it all changed, when the listlessness disappeared. You remembered Senshi’s words. You remembered the sting of hot tears in the corners of your eyes as Mithrun smiled for the first time in forever.
It was a secret tucked inside your chest, kept close, chained up. But at night, when you stared at the ceiling with bright eyes and racing thoughts, you let the secret out just a little bit. You loved the captain like a desert dweller loved an oasis. You loved the captain like flowers loved rain. You loved the captain like—
“I can’t not stare at you,” Mithrun’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You crashed back down to Melini, to the restaurant and to him, shattering on the floor and making a complete mess.
“What?” Your voice was just as scratchy as his now. You grabbed your sweating glass of water and gulped it down.
Mithrun waited for you to finish before he continued, “I can’t not stare at you. It’s simply what I do. What I want.”
And he wanted so little.
The wall crumbled, and you internally cursed yourself before returning Mithrun’s gaze. “You don’t want that.”
“I want that.”
Was this really happening? Years of longing, of denial, of fear, all built up into one moment. And the moment was taking place in a dingy restaurant where you and Mithrun were surrounded by chattering people and the scrape of utensils on plates. Nearby, someone laughed. But it was as if cotton had been stuffed into your ears, your focus entirely on the elf sitting across from you— and his dead fish stare.
You began to consider your possibilities:
Option 1: Kiss him.
Option 2: Fake a heart attack to get out of this.
Option 3: Explain your fears about starting an official relationship with him.
Option two looked best.
You put a hand to your chest and coughed a little, “I-I think I’m—”
Mithrun rolled his good eye and stood up. The legs of his chair scraped across the ground as he loomed over the table, looking down at you. “Let’s go already, we have work to do.”
You scoffed, “I’m kind of busy having a heart attack here.”
“The heart attack excuse didn’t work when you wanted to get out of that dinner with the Canaries, and it won’t work now.”
He was right. He was always right. You hated that.
You stood up as well. Mithrun went to the front of the restaurant to pay. People used to cast him curious glances as he passed by, but very few did that anymore. The locals of Melini knew who Mithrun was and were generally used to his presence. Plus, the kingdom had become a melting pot of different races and cultures as of late. Seeing an elf wasn’t too surprising these days.
You watched the back of his head. He had a curl there. He’d always had that curl. Something in the back of your mind desperately urged you to wrap it around your finger.
Mithrun cast you a flat glance as he made for the front door. “Are you going to just stand there? Or are you coming?”
Your frown covered up the flutter of your heart. You followed, silent, grumpy, your right hand itching to take his left.
And as you followed him into the street, you noticed, just for half a second, that his fingers flexed, then curled into a fist before releasing.
This was bad. How could the people of Melini happily go about their lives as your world started to shift? How was the sun still shining? Why didn’t time stop for you as the growing thing between you and Mithrun got too large to ignore?
(Perhaps you were being too dramatic.)
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The captain did not only stare. He touched.
It was weird, really, because he didn’t enjoy being touched. Mithrun would prefer to keep his personal space, you knew. The Canaries often invaded it and he said nothing to stop them, but you saw the twitch of his ear, the slight narrowing of his good eye. Lately, since he’d been learning how to be more expressive, he would sigh. It was that kind of sigh that told the listener precisely what he wanted, the kind of sigh that spoke a thousand words his lips refused to say. Those thousands of words usually consisted of ‘get away from me’ or ‘stop touching me.’
He never sighed with you.
But perhaps that was because you knew better than to invade his personal space. He had no qualms invading yours. He touched you. Often. At first, you noticed it too much. The feeling of Mithrun’s hand on the small of your back made your mind race with questions. Eventually, you got used to it and hardly noticed it anymore.
But that hyper awareness had returned since the staring conversation.
And also since the staring conversation, he touched you more than ever before.
Mithrun’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were always cold, for some reason. He held up your wrist between your bodies, but he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on something rustling through the forest. His other hand leaned against the rough bark of a tree. There was absolutely no reason for Mithrun to be holding your wrist right now, but you had a feeling he didn’t even notice what he was doing.
“Quiet,” he said in a low tone, casting you a glance, “there’s someone up ahead.”
“Someone?” You asked, “Not something?”
“Yes. Someone.”
Melini had many types of people. Most of them were good, interested in the future of the nation. Yet the existence of an entirely new country caught the attention of other types of people. The laws weren’t yet established, Laois didn’t really care about imposing taxes, and homes were still being built. While it had settled down as of late, criminals still flocked to the area.
Mithrun cast you another glance. His good eye, black, flickered up and down your body. The look only lasted for half a second, but it still made heat flare up in your abdomen.
“Stay here,” he commanded.
The heat disappeared as you sent him an incredulous stare, “Excuse me?”
“Stay here,” he echoed.
“No,” the argument escaped your lips quickly and harshly, “I’m going with you. There could be any number of people out here and I won’t let you face them alone.”
His eye narrowed slightly as he turned to fully face you, “There’s a chance I won’t even be fighting. They could simply be hikers.”
“Don’t lie to me, I know when you’re on edge.”
Another narrowed eye, another flicker of his ears. The chewed tips slowly lowered, pressing back against his head, barely visible through wavy locks of silver. You’ve always thought that when elves did that, they looked quite aerodynamic.
“Fine,” his voice was flatter than usual, “but stay close to me. I won’t allow you to be hurt.”
Mithrun released your wrist, but his fingers deftly slid down your skin, across your palm. A shiver ran through you as he tangled your fingers together. They were puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, created specifically to hold each other.
And Mithrun didn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the fact that he was now holding your hand. He simply turned and began trudging through the foliage of the forest, gently pulling you behind him. Did he have any idea what he’d done? Did his sharpened elf hearing notice the pumping of your heart? Would he even acknowledge it?
He held your hand tight, as if afraid you would slip away.
“They know we see them,” Mithrun murmured. Tension filled the air and threatened to suffocate you. It was the feeling of danger, and a tingling through your limbs that made your hairs stand to attention.
He pushed aside a thorn bush, not caring when the sharp tips pricked his skin or when they clung to his clothes like childish hands trying to desperately keep him from leaving. He slowed down a little so you could navigate the bushes more carefully. His fingers slipped away from yours, but he kept your hand, holding it up like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage.
The moment you escaped the bush, he interlocked your fingers once more.
Your mind raced as you followed him. Why was Mithrun holding your hand? What did it mean? Was he trying to acknowledge your relationship? Impossible. That was impossible. Mithrun surely didn’t want a relationship with you. There was something between you two, obviously, but it wasn’t anything either of you were ever going to do anything about. At least you thought as much. His desires weren’t just going to randomly appear again. And surely you weren’t special enough to cultivate anything new within him. No, Mithrun was just being—
The taut pull of a bow string filled the air. It happened too quickly. The whish of an arrow cutting through the atmosphere— it sliced the tension in half so smoothly, like butter. You only caught a glimpse of it as it came straight for your chest.
But it never hit you. You’d closed your eyes without realizing, but when you recognized an utter lack of pain, your eyes shot open to inspect the situation.
Mithrun still held your hand. Tight. A little too tight. You could see his jawline clenched, his ears pushed back. In front of you, only inches away from your chest, was the arrow. He’d caught it mid air. His hand was wrapped around the shaft and his knuckles were white as he gripped it.
Your heart didn’t just skip. It flipped, did an entire gymnastics routine, then promptly flopped onto the floor and passed out.
There were wasps in your stomach. Not butterflies. Wasps.
And Mithrun was angry. His chest rose and fell before he slipped his hand away from yours. You only caught a glimpse of his face as he turned away, but you could see the flicker of silver consuming the black; the crackle of a flame, the flip of a switch, a lightning strike in the distance.
He reared his arm back and promptly launched the arrow at something between the trees. A guttural noise erupted. It was thick with something, pain or blood or shock or fear. A tall-man stumbled out of hiding with the arrow lodged in the front of his neck, then he collapsed face down in the grass.
Silence.
Mithrun lowered his arm and stood up straight, staring at the body.
Your throat was strangled, but you managed to push the question out nonetheless. “Did you just… throw a goddamn arrow so hard that it went through a man’s neck?”
“Hm?” Mithrun sent you a glance, his eye widening just the slightest bit. But it returned to the black pit that you were seconds away from falling into. “Oh, yeah, I did.”
“Just now,” you pointed at the literal corpse laying in front of you, “you killed him.”
His brows furrowed, “Obviously.”
“Why?”
“He was going to kill you,” Mithrun looked at you as if the answer was clear and he was genuinely confused at your bewilderment. He lifted his hand, the left one, and held it out for you expectantly.
While your mind raced with questions and horror and a bit of admiration, you placed your hand in his. The air smelled like blood, metallic. Mithrun told you that he wouldn’t allow you to get hurt. He meant it. It felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of your lungs.
Maintaining eye contact, he leaned forward, pressing his dry lips to your knuckles. The forest, the chirping of birds, even the warmth of the sun overhead, faded into the background. All you knew at that moment were his cold fingers holding yours, the feeling of his lips on your skin, the lingering look he was giving you.
Damn.
His expression wasn’t blank this time. His good eye wasn’t lifeless. He looked at you through his lashes, his gaze glued to your face. Or perhaps not glued, but rather welded. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blush. But the intent was clear. His lips gently brushed across your knuckles for precisely four seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your heart started to do its gymnastics routine again.
You could’ve lived beneath the spotlight of his gaze forever.
Yet soon enough, he dropped your hand and turned away. The tension dissipated like mist as he began walking, casually stepping over the corpse. “Let’s go. There’s been reports of a cockatrice nearby.”
Right. Monsters. Work.
You looked at the corpse and the blood soaking into the soft earth, drying to a darker color on the leaves and grass. You should’ve been horrified, but…
The fact that Mithrun was willing to kill for you only made you burn. Your knees were weak.
This was a desperate situation. This was a confusing situation. This was the kind of situation that required an expert.
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“Are you stupid?” Cithis asked.
Perhaps. You weren’t quite sure anymore.
You held a coffee mug tightly, wrapping both hands around it as you sent Cithis a pleading look. She returned your expression with something like boredom and disinterest. White braided hair fell over her bare shoulder. She sat across from you with one knee over the other and her hands politely clasped in her lap. While this elf woman was the picture of elegance, you knew what she really was. You knew how she could be.
Which was precisely why you’d come to her.
“I don’t understand,” you began explaining, feeling a ramble coming on, “he stares at me. He holds my hand. He gets furious if someone tries to hurt me. He looks at me sometimes with this face that almost makes me think he wants me. He—”
“I think you’re stupid,” Cithis interrupted casually, “Or in denial. You know precisely how the captain feels. Admit it already and stop wasting everybody’s time.”
You couldn’t help but scowl, “I don’t want to admit it.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” the words got caught in your throat and you had to forcefully shove them up and outwards, “Because it freaks me out. I don’t want to ruin the comfort between us. I don’t want Mithrun to one day get tired of me. I don’t want to… to die and leave him behind. He deserves better than that.”
Cithis only tilted her head, “Don’t you think he deserves to get what he wants? How often does the captain want something?”
Rarely. And you held the firm belief that when Mithrun wanted something, the world should bend its knee to meet that desire. Yet, this was different. Did he want you? Why? How? How can you be sure? Cithis seemed sure. How? Why?
Her stare was unamused. She looked at you as if you were a dead fly that landed in her food.
“I guess I just don’t want to assume,” you finally said with a heavy exhale.
“There’s no assumptions to be made here. He wants you. Everybody knows it.”
Your head shot up, “What?”
“Everybody knows it,” her eyes narrowed.
Nonsense. That couldn’t be true. You scoffed, “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Listen,” Cithis leaned forward in her chair, pinning you in place with topaz yellow eyes— or piss yellow, how you described her eyes usually changed depending on your mood. “Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”
You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult.
You shot Cithis a dark look. Her lips twitched into a smile that held not even a hint of humor.
“I’m aware,” you said, “however, that doesn’t mean I understand. Does he even know how to flirt? Does he know how a relationship would work with him in this state? Do I know how a relationship would work between us? Does he have any desire to be, you know, intimate? Does he—”
Cithis interrupted, “Honestly, I believe the captain would burn down the world just to keep you warm. But that’s just my observation.”
What?
“What?”
“Idiot,” she huffed, “he touches you every chance he gets as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have his hands on you in some way. He stares at you like you’re a damn masterpiece—”
“He stares at me rather blankly, actually.”
“But he’s still staring.”
“Maybe I’ve always got food in my teeth or something on my face.”
“You know I don’t really enjoy doing this.” Cithis leaned back in her chair and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Her piss yellow eyes narrowed, “It’s much more interesting to watch you and the captain silently orbit each other than it is to so dramatically reveal his feelings. Yet, I think it’s time you stop being foolish and give him what he wants. He’s developed this odd love language for you and I think you should start learning it.”
She was right. You hated it when Cithis was right.
But that was why you’d consulted her in the first place, because you knew she’d be right. Still, how annoying.
“Okay,” you threw your hands up, “What do I do? What’s the next step?”
She smiled softly, but her furrowed brows and pitying eyes made it clear that she was condescending you. You were a child trying to ask her why the sky was blue.
“Kiss him, obviously.”
Kiss him. Just kiss him. How simple. How elementary. The idea of kissing him definitely didn’t fill you with stinging wasps or anything.
All you could do was close your eyes to block out the sight of Cithis’s condescension. “Yeah. Kiss him. That’s– Yeah.”
“Now go,” she waved a dismissive, elegant hand, “off with you.”
Whatever. You shot her a glare before setting the warm coffee mug on the table in front of her. You’d been gripping it like a lifeline, and you hoped it left a ring on her nice table. Her lips parted in silent offense at the tiny act of revenge.
You left Cithis’s home. Were you assured? Yes. Were you going to kiss Mithrun? Probably not.
There was still so much to sort through, still so many concerns. Mithrun wanted you and, apparently, everybody knew it. He hadn’t even been trying to hide his feelings all this time. You accepted his staring and his touching and his willingness to do anything you asked as simple friendship.
Maybe you should kiss him.
Maybe you should—
“What’re you doing?”
A shout ripped from your throat. You couldn’t control yourself, you stumbled backward, putting up your hands as your heart jumped and your stomach churned. You knew who it was that had snuck up on you. He did this all the time.
“Mithrun,” you hissed, “stop teleporting to me, you know it drives me up a wall!”
Mithrun’s nose twitched ever so slightly. He was considering your words, just a little. Then he shook his head, “No. I don’t think I’ll stop.”
Right. Okay. So, he wasn’t willing to do anything you asked of him. Again, you could only wonder if he enjoyed this. Did Mithrun like getting on your nerves?
You two were standing outside of Cithis’s little house. She should’ve been in jail, really, but she and the other Canaries had been pardoned, sort of. It was really more like a house arrest. You knew that Cithis didn’t care enough to watch you and Mithrun out her window, but it was still unnerving to be so near her, knowing what she knew.
Now, you were the one grabbing him. You took his wrist, gently pulling him down the road. “Come on, we need to talk,” you said.
Mithrun’s good eye widened just a little as you led him through the streets of Melini. It was more crowded than usual. Merchants called out to passersby and people laughed and talked and lived their own little lives. And this was your life, now, pulling the man you adored through a crowd in a desperate attempt to find a quiet, private spot.
You still hadn’t decided whether or not to kiss him.
There was an alley nearby. It seemed relatively clean. You and Mithrun entered the alley and walked around the corner of a stone building before you released his wrist. Yet, immediately, he took your hand, unwilling to allow even a second of no contact between your bodies.
The words came flowing out of your mouth as if a dam had broken within you. “Your love language, I’m learning it.”
He only blinked, “What?”
“Physical touch,” you raised your other hand, wrapping it around his, “quality time,” you met his eye and considered the possibility of drifting in black ink forever, “acts of service.”
He blinked once more. “Oh. I see.”
Your brows furrowed, “Why were you near Cithis’s house anyway?”
“I was simply passing by when I saw you.”
“And your first response was to teleport to my side?”
His head tilted slightly, “Yes. It was.”
“Why?”
Now it was his turn to furrow his brows, “Why not? It’s what I wanted to do, so I did it.”
“And the staring,” you murmured, breathless, “the hand holding, the lingering touches… That’s what you want as well?”
You didn’t expect Mithrun to react strongly to this conversation, and his reaction fulfilled your expectations. He remained calm, but his gaze lingered strongly on yours. His other hand slowly raised and he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles onto your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into the touch.
“Yes,” he answered, voice as scratchy and tired and level as ever, “that’s what I want.”
“Why?”
His composure broke just slightly. His eye narrowed and his lips quirked into a little frown. “Why wouldn’t I want to touch and stare at my partner?”
…What?
“Excuse me?” Your tone was thick with disbelief as your heart began to do flips. “Your partner?”
“Yes?” His brows furrowed and he blinked a few times as if confused, “My partner.”
“...Me?”
“Yeah.”
“But—” it was as if someone had punched you in the lungs, “Me?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m your partner?”
A sigh as he closed his eyes. “Yes. You’re my partner. You have been for the last year.”
“...Huh?”
His eyes opened to pin you in place, “Were you not aware that we’ve been dating for this long?”
“No!” You couldn’t help yell, “I wasn’t aware! I thought we were just good friends!”
Mithrun said your name, tilting his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. He was amused. How rare. You only wish it wasn’t at your expense. “I wouldn’t do these things with just a good friend.”
Alright. Cithis was right in calling you an idiot.
You felt like you were about to explode. You weren’t sure if that explosion would be from anger, embarrassment, or adoration. All three? You were going to self combust, then your flesh would fly everywhere and get on the walls and cause this huge, bloody mess. All that would be left of you were chunks. But if that happened, Mithrun wouldn’t be able to hold your hand anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stare. You weren’t about to take that away from him. The world needed to kneel and deliver him whatever he desired on a silver platter and you were not about to stop that from happening just because you exploded.
“I am in love with you,” you said matter-of-factly. It was pure word vomit.
“Yeah,” he remained calm, “I know.”
He knew. Of course he knew. You wanted so badly to smack him over the head.
“If you knew…” your voice was strangled as you resisted every urge to scream, “then why haven’t you ever kissed me?”
Mithrun shrugged. He shrugged.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes!” You snapped.
“Alright.” He released your hand, then grabbed your face and gently pulled you closer. His lips met yours. You wanted to melt. You were basically a popsicle on a hot summer day, then. And you had no clue what to do with your hands.
The kiss was… chaste. And soft. You weren’t quite sure what you expected. Certainly not passion, not from Mithrun. But chaste? That wasn’t right either. It was kind of… laid back, as if he’d kissed you a million times before and this was just another to add to the pile.
That wouldn’t do.
You figured out what to do with your hands. One gripped the front of his shirt, balling your fingers up in the fabric. The other stretched around his neck and tangled into his hair. He made a small noise of surprise. Satisfaction flickered through your chest. Gently, but firmly, you pulled him closer to you. Your back hit the stone wall. Your chests brushed against each other. His left hand dropped from your cheek and found your waist as he dug his fingers in and suddenly yanked your body against his.
There. That was better.
Slowly, Mithrun deepened the kiss, tilting his head. His hand slid away from your cheek and found a resting place on the back of your neck. You were both breathing through your noses as you kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed.
Heat began to build up in your abdomen. Your entire body tingled. He pushed you further against the wall and let out a soft exhale before introducing a soft bite on your lower lip. Another flash of heat wracked you, leaving you breathless.
Finally, the need for oxygen dominated and Mithrun pulled back, but only a few inches. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, letting out an exhale.
“I think… I like that,” he murmured, “We should do more of it.”
All you could do was nod weakly.
“Right. More,” you leaned in, pressing your lips against his, and it started all over again.
One might call it a new beginning. In reality, it was a continuation of what always was. You set aside your endless questions and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him some more.
You’d officially fallen off the edge. No more teetering, no more balance. You were gone, and you’d never hit the ground.
#ehehe#I take requests btw#rubs my dirty little raccoon hands together#will I ever write for another character? perhaps#x reader#reader insert#mithrun x reader#mithrun#mithrun of the house of kerensil#dungeon meshi#dunmeshi#delicious in dungeon#my writing#writing#dungeon meshi imagines#dungeon meshi x reader#gn reader
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like me better.
pairing: lee minho x f reader.
warnings: hand kink, fingering, praise kink if you squint, slightly narcissistic minho but he just loves himself too much lol, implied oral (m receiving).
genre: smut, strangers to friends to lovers/fwb....?
rating: explicit.
word count: 2.6k
Changbin’s roommate had the sexiest hands.
And you said exactly that.
Lee Minho was a second year digital arts student and taught dance classes in his spare time. With an experienced dancer body and a face that looked sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves, Minho was accustomed to admiring remarks about his ideal body proportions, his muscular and flexible physique, his thick and sinewy thighs, his excellent and toned pecs, his sharp jawline, his plump and pouty lips, his pointed nose, his big and round eyes… and the list went on because everyone always had something to talk about when it came to Lee Minho.
As a complement to his exquisite appearance, he had just the right amount of confidence that made people either want to be with him or want to be him. It was like every fragment of his being was the pristine example of transcendence beauty. Very praiseworthy. And everyone should be jealous. Minho was aware of all that. To be frank he relished in the heart eyes of people as they walked past him.
But then Changbin brought you into his shared apartment to work on a project together.
Instead of widened eyes and parted lips and a stuttered breathing like the reactions he’d gotten from most people, you beamed and happily greeted him with an unashamedly loud and sincere “oh, wow, you’re really pretty! And nice hair, too!” before following Changbin to the living room.
Your compliments were honest. But clearly lacked worship. And where’s the ulterior motive in the eyes begging to get fucked? Thought anyone wants him in bed? Minho blinked, glancing at your back.
And then it was the umpteenth time you came to hang out. You and Changbin doodled on your respective sketchbooks but you’d been too distracted to carry on. You were blatantly staring at Minho’s hands chopping some vegetables on the kitchenette across from you. The next minute you casually told him that he had the sexiest hands you had ever seen.
He couldn’t help but choke on his own spit coughing profusely as his knife clattered against the cutting board. Changbin eyed you with a clear “what the fuck” look evident on his disgusted face.
Because when people say something about Minho’s hands, it would be that they were nice or soft or chubby or just anything else other than sexy. You shrugged, “I said what I said.”
You weren’t joking. His arms might not be as beefy and massive as Changbin’s, but you thought they were the perfect amount of toned and well-defined. The veins protruding along the skin of the back of his hands and forearms especially when he was straining might be the cause of your sudden moan. The width and length of his hands were below the average of an adult male that you likened them to kitten paws sometimes.
But his fingers… Well, they were thicker and longer in size than most people you hooked up with. And most definitely much thicker and a little longer than yours.
So yes, when you said his hands were the sexiest you had ever seen, you weren’t joking.
“You should stop saying I have nice hands.” Minho commented with a laugh one day.
You were filling in your glass with ice water from the fridge as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.
“Oh, but I never did.” You denied, before sneaking a quick glance at him with a chuckle, “I said they’re sexy.”
“And you mean it?”
You turned on your heel with a glass full to the brim, “from the myriad of hands I’ve observed, yes, yours belong to the sexy category.”
He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, brows furrowing amusedly as an idea that’d been invading his thoughts lately travelled down to the edge of his tongue, threatening to be let out. And he did, “so you have a hand kink.”
You hopped onto the counter and paused for a moment, taking a gulp from the glass, letting the cool liquid freshen up your throat as you stared up at the ceiling. And then you shrugged, “yeah, that makes sense.”
If Minho was surprised at your nonchalance at the accusation, it wasn’t shown through his face as his grin widened and he laughed. You glanced over at him with a raised brow, “what?”
He shook his head, “do you usually go around telling people you like their hands and admit it right away when they tell you that you might have a hand kink?”
“Not people. Just Changbin and you.”
“You like his hands too?”
“His hands are sexy.”
“Sexier than mine?”
“Gotta be honest, no.”
“I always love your honesty.”
“You mean you love the compliments.”
“So you like my hands better?”
Your eyes narrowed with interest, all while the distance between you and Minho had eventually gradually scaled down. He was practically standing between your legs, and the glass in your hand was the only barrier between your chests. You took another sip of the cold water, “depending on what needs to be done.”
“I’ll make it easier. Whose you’d prefer to have around your neck?”
“What the fuck kind of conversation did I just heard?” Changbin stood behind you across the island counter with a pair of ice packs attached to the back of his thighs. Yesterday was his leg day.
Minho shrugged, “just kinks and stuff.”
Changbin’s face contorted in disgust as he walked around to grab a can of diet coke from the fridge. He sauntered back to his bedroom, leaving the scene with a shout, “I don’t care if you bang each other. Just not in the kitchen!”
Minho shouted back, “suggestion accepted!”
You rolled your eyes with a giggle, pushing his chest away with a pad of your finger and about to hop off the counter but you caged you in. He took your glass and put it on the counter, leaning in to speak lower despite his roommate having been out of earshot.
“So whose hands you like better?” You thought it was just another flirting attempt, unless there wasn’t a sign of it on his face when he said that. Instead, his eyes were searching for yours as he was waiting for an answer.
You smiled.
Perhaps you had a hand kink. Combined with the attractive Lee Minho? And you’re dead.
You were settled in his lap, back flushed against his chest as he reclined back against the leather headboard of his bed. His legs intertwined with your own, holding each of your legs apart as his hand smothered along the inner of your thigh. His other hand rested around your throat, keeping the back of your head stilled on his shoulder as his lips moulded with yours.
Once his thumb added a slight pressure to the side of your neck, you released a shaky breath into his mouth. And he smiled against your lips.
He discarded his shirt, leaving himself with only his boxer shorts. The whereabouts of your skirt and shirt were vague in your head. Probably in the doorway of his room where he’d had you pinned against earlier, or somewhere at the foot of the bed where he’d dragged you from to settle between his thighs. Somehow you just ended up in only your panties and bra.
He caught your lips again. His hand trailed up to the warmth of your center, fingertips gently rubbed against your clothed cunt before he hooked a finger around your panties and dragged the thin fabric to the side. You pulled away once the cool air caressed your bare entrance, head thrown back on his shoulder and releasing a long sigh as he began stroking your clit.
He nibbled the shell of your ear. The hand on your neck cradled your jaw, pulling your head off of his shoulder for you to look down. “Watch.”
And God, were you so soaked already.
Even in the dim of his room you could still see how his palm and fingers were glistening, his slick-wet skin reflecting the lights from the night lamps at each side of his bed. But hotter than all of that was the protruding veins that bulged along his arm all the way to the back of his hand as his fingers persistently rubbed your clit, each stroke leading his middle digit to dip deeper into your entrance. You squirmed and mewled, legs lightly shaking at the mere sight of it.
There had been a few nights out with alcohol in your system where someone would have their fingers deep inside your walls and make you moan out loud. Minho wasn’t the only person who’d laid a finger on your sensitive area trying to get you off, but nobody had ever managed to get you drenched with only the tip of their finger barely inside you like he did now, no. To his credit, there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in your system. Only a few gulps of cold water.
The amount of slick you produced pooled in the creases towards the center of his palm. You gripped his wrist tight, whining out loud cries of his name as he kept assaulting your clit with perseverance. His lips stretched wide into a pleased grin, chin resting on your shoulder as he himself watched his middle finger slowly sink into your entrance.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
His thirst for compliments. Seriously.
The answer was, his. His hands were just so oddly sexy it was ridiculous. But curse him and his overflowing confidence and overwhelming self love. You might want to tease him a little.
You bit down onto your lower lip as you watched his finger sink deeper and deeper, your walls clenched at the intrusion. Your grip around his wrist loosened, letting him go inside of you further. You let out a long exhale, and hummed, “Changbin.”
And all the increasingly pleasant tinglings coiling up in the pit of your stomach forcefully boiled away as he pulled his finger out. You turned to him with furrowed brows of disapproval.
“Better ask Changbin to make you feel better than I could ever do then, darling. I’m afraid I’m not up to your standards.” His lips pursed into a feigning frown as he spoke. But in contrast to his disappointed pout, he brought his hand up to his lips, licking his drenched digits clean with a sensual movement of his tongue without breaking eye contact.
You wouldn’t lose to him. You’d get what you wanted. You weren’t the only one affected here, if the slight poke on your backside was anything to go by.
You mirrored his pout, palm wrapping around his wrist and bringing it back down between your thighs. He let you, but only until his palm hovered over your folds, barely touching you. His face twisted with an impish grin, “you know the magic words.”
Still with a feigning pout, you leaned close to plant kisses up his jaw, then settled your head back down on his shoulder. Your face nuzzled the side of his neck. “Of course I love your hands better, silly. Isn’t it obvious enough?”
“Better than everybody else’s?”
If you had learnt something else about him tonight, it was that everything seemed to be a competition for him. Or he was just eager to have your sole attention on him. Tsk.
You hummed.
His fingers thrusted once.
Then twice.
“Words, baby.”
You grinded down, shifting backwards to where a tent of his erection poke your backside. He groaned at the slight contact, then humping forward to get more friction, while simultaneously adding the second finger in.
You giggled, “better than even my own hands.”
It was all he needed to give you what you wanted. His middle and ring fingers were sliding in and out of your walls in an unforgiving pace that made your thighs quiver. His other hand found its place around your middle. You looked down, purring when you watched his fingers only get wetter and wetter as they kept disappearing and reappearing inside of you.
“Oh—” you sighed, nails clawing at his arm, “good… feel so good…”
As if his fingers weren’t already tormenting enough, his hips began jerking forward, his clothed bulge grazing and rubbing between your ass.
Your eyes threatened to slide close at the tingles in your stomach that gradually evolved into an overwhelming bliss the more he assaulted you from both sides. And yet you couldn’t give up on keeping track of the indecent sight down there; his thick and long digits invading your walls and poking deep into your bundle of nerves, his whole hand coated with your juices and the drenched sheets beneath you.
It was too much. His fingers were too much. His throbbing clothed length was too much. The sight was too much.
And then you convulsed, your walls clenched hard. Head thrown back, curses and his name and an endless of “good… good… good…” spilling out of your parted lips. It wasn’t a plain white ceiling above your head, but stars and white and sparks.
His fingers curled, drawing more of your juices to dribble out of your hole.
When had been the last time you came you hard with just two fingers inside you? But it was two thick fingers and veined hands of Lee Minho we’re talking about here.
You heard a loud pop beside you. Minho was licking clean his slick-glazed fingers. “Tastes so sweet,” he hummed in delight.
Even in your fucked out state, your mind went towards the prominent erection that kept twitching against your backside. Hell, you could even feel his precum even through his shorts and the thin lace of your panties.
“You haven’t— you haven’t come… you…” you said between ragged breaths, attempting to turn around.
He chuckled, sliding his shorts off and helping you lay on your side between his legs. He carefully pulled you closer where your head could comfortably rest on his bare thigh.
He combed through your hair that was half wet with sweat, moving the stray strands out of your face before stroking your cheek softly. Maybe you shouldn’t have only paid attention to his sexy, veined hands because oh my God he looked godly from down here. Perhaps you eventually grasped the obsession people had over him.
You almost gave into the gentle touches of his hand on your face, head still hazy with the most blissful orgasm you’d had in a long while— if it wasn’t for a distracting view presented right there for only you to gawk at.
Your hooded eyes fixated on the glory of his length that stood proud against his toned abs. Your hand reacted faster than your hazy brain, mindlessly reaching for the base and stroking it lightly.
Your eyes were big and pleasing when looking up at him, wordlessly and helplessly asking for permission. He snickered.
“Pretty,” he caressed the side of your face down to your jaw, “so pretty for me.”
Then he brought his hand up to his face. He licked his thumb. The pad of his forefinger tipped up your chin, and his thumb rushed over your parted lips, coating the plump flesh with his spit.
His unoccupied palm led your hand to properly wrap around the base of his cock, guiding you to stroke and palm the head. And when you thought he was about to jerk himself off using your hand, he dragged your face closer with his other hand and hovered the tip of his cock over your lips, precum slowly dribbling out of its slit.
He parted your lips wider with a thumb, smiling down at you, “my turn?”
#skz fictions#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz smut#skz x reader#skz lee know#skz lee minho#leeknow smut#lee minho smut#straykids smut#skz scenarios
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His Cheerleader ♡
Featuring 🌷: joe anoa’i + female!reader
Warning ☁️: dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, fingering, cunnilingus, slight overstimulation, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v, squirting, 18+ Minors, please don’t interact. Thanks! ୨୧
Word count 🌷: 1.1k
Scenario ☁️: currently in love with this request! After a thrilling football victory, joe and his girlfriend unwind together, basking in each other's love amidst the pressure of college.
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Joe walked across the college campus, amid the swirl of students, his eyes always sought one face. There, on the open landscape, his girlfriend sat with textbooks sprawled around her. She was the epitome of brains and beauty. “Ready for tonight’s game?” she called out, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. Roman grinned, dropping his bag and leaning in for a quick kiss. “Only if you’re ready for another study session after,” he replied. She wasn’t sure if he was being serious or just being typical, horny Joe.
The football field was his sanctuary, coaches and teammates were quick to notice his dedication and passion. His hard work paid off during a playoff game that was televised nationally. But success came with its challenges. Mid-season, Joe found himself struggling academically, and soon he was placed on academic probation. The news hit him like a freight train, threatening everything he’d worked for.
Later that evening, As Joe took his position on the field, his eyes found hers among the cheerleaders. She was front and center, her movements fluid and confident. “Don't stop, get it, get it! Don't stop, rock with it!" she chanted, rolling her hips in perfect rhythm. Once she finished the routine, she stood on the sidelines, her gaze locked onto him. The game was a blur of tackles and touchdowns, with Joe at the center of the action. Each time he made a play, she was there, cheering him on with unwavering energy. As the final whistle blew, signaling their victory, the team erupted in cheers, she blew him a kiss, and he nodded, a silent promise to meet her soon.
After the game, the tension of the day melted away as they exchanged soft kisses on the comfort of his twin sized bed. She traced a finger along his jawline, her voice barely above a whisper. "You did so good today." He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, "So were you," he replied, a grin spreading across his face. "I couldn't have done it without you." As their kisses deepended, she pulled back slightly. "Nope! We’re gonna study first," she said, though her tone was playful.
"In a minute," He looked at her with half lidded eyes, completely dazed by lust.
“I know you’re already dripping for me, lemme touch on her.”
For some reason, this made her hot all over, causing a butterfly feeling in her stomach and she instantly clasped her thighs together. “Please,” She whispered.
Without hesitation, he slowly took off her shirt and found the clasp of her bra. He pulled on it, “Want this dick, baby?” She nodded, the bra falling to the floor as one of Joe’s hands lifted, massaging her breasts. Admiring her erect nipples, he began softly kneading them between his fingers. He leaned down to place kisses on her nipples, then he began sucking on them as she let out soft whimpers.
In the same rhythm, she slid off her shorts, anxious to feel Joe’s tongue or fingers inside of her, “Pl..please?”
“Use your words.” He stated calmly as he crept in between her legs, his hands holding her thighs apart, and were almost able to wrap completely around them. She threw her head back as his tongue expertly flicked her clit while his fingers maintained a steady rhythm inside her, “Is this what you want?”
“Yesss!”
It didn’t take long before her body shuddered, her hips rolling against his tongue to chase the feeling.
“Oh my gosh-” She wailed. Joe began to scissor his fingers inside of her, causing her moans to grow louder. With a sharp slap to her thigh, Joe had to shut her up. “Gotta be quiet, pretty girl. Don’t want everyone to hear, do you?”
There was an incident when the RA came to Joe’s dorm due to the noise complaint, thanks to her, and issued a formal warning. Joe didn't want to be in deeper trouble than he already was—academic probation was enough!
Because of her loud moans, Joe pulled away from her. Denying her an earth shattering orgasm. She started to pout and protest, causing him to take his length out of his boxers. Her cunt throbbed and clenched around nothing, anticipating to swallow his member whole.
He stroked himself with one hand, using the other to slowly line up and press himself inside of her tightness. As she felt the head of his dick fill her up, she hissed immediately. He was her first and though they’d been fucking for a year now, he never fails to make her speechless.
He kissed her, swallowing her moans as she dug her nails into his skin. He was so thick that it felt like forever as he dug deeper and deeper inside. Her eyes were closed and she couldn’t kiss him back anymore, it felt euphoric.
“Feels good?” he cooed, kissing from her jaw and down to her neck as he began to massage her walls. Her moans were in sync with each thrust, her fingernails scratching down Joe’s back.
“Mmmm fuck…it feels so fuckin’ good!”
“I know it feels good baby,” He kisses her, the dorm filled with her sweet sounds and subtle sounds of the bed creaking with every thrust. As Joe hits her spot, her body goes tense. She let out a shriek before Joe quickly covered her mouth.
“It’s okay baby, I know.” He groaned, his voice rough and breathless as he pulls out and hits the spot again, “Fuck, you feel so good babygirl. Let it all out, I’m behind you.”
She’s a moaning, whimpering mess who can barely contain the tears from flowing down her face. “J-J..aaahhhh i’m cumminggg!—“
“Yeah? Cumming for daddy?” Joe purrs, condescendingly as he fucks her through her orgasm. He kissed her as he sped up his pace. She began to feel something different coiling in her stomach. She began to scratch at him and even try to fight him off, he knew what’s about to happen, and he wasn’t gonna let up on her.
“Unh… I-I, It’s too— too much—“
“I know baby. Take it like a good girl,”
He could feel her growing tighter around him and with one thrust, her juices gushed out as she babbles incoherently.
“That’s my girl,”
With a few more thrusts he followed suit, spilling himself into her. After pulling out, Joe hovers over her watching their mess between her legs leak onto the bed.
“Lemme clean that up for you, babygirl.”
She looked at him with a fucked out expression, giving in for a moment. How could she resist him? "Fine, but you owe me a solid study session after this."
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Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷
・❥ ・ @blcst4r @romanreignsbae @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @xoxoril3yyy @rwbypatootie @solefae @adoreesun @alyyaanna @shantinextdoor @zombiedixon89 @acknowledge-reigns @browneyedgirlfriend4l @girlnred @theasiaabattoir @glitterywitchstarlight @xbriexx @melaninpvssypoppin @nashalis97-blog @truefant4sy @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @girlsg1rl @fuzzycandywitch @ariiaeltheedonn @headoftheetable
#wwe imagines#wwe smut#the bloodline x reader#roman reigns#roman reigns fanfiction#acknowledge him#the tribal chief#requests! 𐙚#roman reigns fic#roman reigns x black reader#roman reigns fluff#roman reigns imagine#roman reigns smut#joe anoa'i
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☆ Toji Fushiguro
Sucking his cock for the first time :p a short drabble
Since you told him when you first got together that you wanted to go slow, Toji reminded you that you didn’t have to do anything that you didn’t want to do. But you insisted. You insisted that you wanted to suck his cock. You insisted that he taught you how to properly take him in your mouth.
Toji sucked in a sharp breath at the view of his already flushed tip making it past your soft and pouty lips. He was way in over his head but very much so powerless to resist.
“F-fuck…” Toji mutters out shakily, knuckles white as he gripped fistfuls of the sheets beneath him. He brings one hand up to stroke against your jaw with his thumb. “Just.. start slow, just.. suck.”
When your tongue experimentally swirls around the slit of his cock to gather the beads of pre cum, he can’t help his hips from involuntary bucking. He watches as you take more of him inch by inch as your lips form a tight seal around his cock. Toji lets out a guttural groan.
“Shit yeah, just like that. Fuckkk your mouth feels amazing.”He praises gruffly as he steadies the back of your head. He watched your reactions closely before beginning to thrust slightly.
When you gag lightly around his girth he looks down at you as his brows crease in concern. “Shhh take it easy, breathe through your nose for me.” Sliding his fingers through your hair gently to ease back a little to help you adjust.
“You’re so good for me… doing fucking perfect.” Toji guides his cock out of your mouth to smear the slickness and spit on your lips. The sight out your shiny lips and gaze makes him want to burst right then and there when he slips his leaking cock back in your mouth.
His chest heaves up and down as your head bobbled eagerly, moaning around his length. “S-shit… baby. You’re a pro at this already. Sure it’s your first time?” He noticed how you relaxed your throat, he resumed the shallow thrusting of his hips. His eyes scans your flushed features, occasionally pushing your hair out your face. You were putting on a show and he loved it. He didn’t want it to stop anytime soon but fuck he felt like his balls were going to explode any minute now. He wipes the drool leaking from your messy lips with his thumb, hypnotized by you.
“F-fuckkkk baby if you keep it up just like that I’ll cum in that pretty mouth of yours.” Hips bucking with a little bit more force as you take him deeper. He’s never seen you this eager before so he definitely intended on rewarding your dedication.
He can’t hold back as you push him close to the edge, his fingers tightening in your hair. “I-I’m not gonna last- fuck.” His breaths come out in ragged warning as he locks eyes with you. It all happens so fast when Toji feels that familiar heat rushing to his cock as it twitches in your mouth. He doesn’t have time to warn you before white ropes of warm cum spurt into your waiting mouth. “S-shit…” Toji lets out a choked moan before removing himself from your mouth, holding back another groan as he watches you swallow down the liquid and smile up at him.
“You.. you little shit… where’d you learn that from huh?” He looks at you with an amused but fucked out expression.
“Mmm I’ve been doing my research, leaning a lot ya know?” You giggle as you look at him.
Toji rolls his eyes and smacks his teeth before leaning down to capture your lips with his, tasting the faint saltiness on your lips. “Think you could show me more of what you learned?”
#jjk smut#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji smut#toji jjk smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#fushiguro toji smut#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk toji#toji jujutsu kaisen#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji drabbles#yunnys ׂׂૢ
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— twisted love
nsfw mdni :3 | yandere!toxic!seokmin x fem reader | 1.3k
!! dubcon/noncon + stalker + manipulation + gaslighting + minnie is kinda mean ig + other stuff that might shock if you get shocked easily !!
- omgg this was so fun to write, thanks to @my-favefics for giving me the idea to actually develop this anyways i hope its a nice read, feedback is much appreciated i don’t write smut fr.
Seokmin likes you, he likes you a lot so much it’s hard for him to keep his eyes off you, talk less of his hands but he’s trying for you, he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable around him. He’ll be patient if that’s what you need, that’s probably what you need, time, it doesn’t make sense that you would reject him after how thoughtful he’d been.
He thinks a lot about you after dark, about pretty you looked in your clothes that day loving how the material hugged your body so tightly he could clearly visualize your naked body he had brushed the thought away all day. It was torture, the way you’d move your body in the most innocent way but somehow so erotically. He thinks about that a lot, the way your breasts pressed against his chest, he swore he would feel your hard nipples through the thin fabric.
And as much as he tried not to he’d always somehow end up with his fist squeezing around his bulging cock, twisting and pulling as he recalled your perfect curves. Your sweet voice messages playing in the background, just so he could hear that pretty voice that never failed to get him going. He couldn’t help it, you were just so precious to him, so delicate, so tempting.
He was sure that you felt the same way about him, that you touched your wet cunt at night thinking of how his body would feel, why wouldn’t you? He did everything you wanted, took special care of you, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t really understand why, he did it all for you.
The mood was right, you were alone and so close why would you push him away when he tried to kiss you, then proceed to act like nothing happened. Were you trying to toy with him?
Now you were just making him seem like the bad guy, he’d been so nice to you why did you have to ruin it?
He wasn’t planning on following you home it just happened like this, you were so naive so he had no problem in doing so, it was almost like you wanted him to. He’d wait for you to get in the shower to make his appearance, absentmindedly rubbing your body clean, stripping himself off all his clothes before joining you, wrapping arms around your waist from the back.
He could feel you tense up, could hear your heavy breathing, he understood you didn’t expect this but what else could he do. He let his head rest gently on your neck, pressing his tongue first against your soft skin before bringing in his gentle kiss. You couldn’t move even after he turned your face to his and you could see his doe eyes that you were so fond of, he kissed you so gently like he was showing you love but nothing in this situation matched that gentleness.
“What’s wrong?” he asks cupping your cheeks in his hands, searching your face for a reason for the disgusted look on your face, his eyes pleading for an answer, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want you to understand how much I love you.”
A short gasp escapes your lips an array of tears follow, masked by the pour of water from the shower head above you, but he could see your frown and it hurt, because he was honest with you and yet you didn’t accept him. What more could you want, he loved you.
“Stop crying” he leaned in closer letting the words brush against your skin, cold and sharp, wrapping his hand over your mouth to mute your silent sobs, he watched you squeeze your eyes shut as you tried calming down your tears.
Once your sniffling stopped he let go of his grip on your jaw, sliding it down to your neck pulling you into a hungrier kiss pressing your bodies against each other, your back resting on the cold bathroom tiles, you could feel him so hard against your belly, so thick just poking into you.
His hand massaging your waist as his lips travel down your neck, you can barely hold back to tiny gasps that escape your lips, “That’s it”, you can feel his smile placing kisses on your breasts, sliding you pebble hard nipples between his teeth before sucking on them swallowing down every drip of water that trailed down.
You let him guide your hand down around his shaft, holding you tightly there as he rubbed your hand around him, twisting and pulling just enough for his voice to come out so breathy, “Kneel”
Your legs quickly gave in, kneeling in front of him coming face to face with his aching member, watching as it throbbed at the sight of you.
“Fuck” he sighs as he presses his thumb against your lips, opening up your mouth for him, loving the way you looked up at him so cluelessly before he shoved it down your throat, he didn’t know you could look so hot. The way your head bobbed around his cock drove him wild, you found yourself sucking on it, rolling your tongue around it, the sound of his gasps pushing you to give him more pleasure.
He lifts your head up gesturing for you to stand up for him, holding up your leg as he rubs his tip against your surprisingly wet cunt, wasting no time before forcing it into you, the tight walls driving him greedy for more.
All you weight is lifted up against the wall as he thrusts harshly into you, paying no mind to your soft cries from the thickness pulling you open from every inch, your begging only pushed him further, his kisses growing rougher the more your juices wrapped around him.
“Tell me you want me to cum inside” Resting his forehead against yours pulling your lip between his longingly before meeting your tired eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he nodded slowly asking for your confirmation, “Come on baby” he knew you were too dazed to know what you were agreeing to only using it to his advantage.
“I want..” you didn’t even have to finish for him to quicken his pace, your words vibrating out as you completed the statement. With a soft kiss you felt your insides being filled with liquid warmth, his dick leaving you empty your aching walls clenching around nothing as your breaths came back to a normal pace.
He let go of you bringing you back to your feet that barely could handle your weight, keeping his hands on your waist. When you look up at him his eyes are filled with worry like he wasn’t the cause of your state. Taking you out of the shower and wrapping you in a towel before bringing you to your room.
Kneeling on the floor in front of you at the edge of your bed, he takes your hands in his, placing soft kisses on your palms.
“I’m sorry, forgive me?” his voice is sincere but the act is confusing, he inches closer between your legs mostly exposed despite the towel that only barely covers your pussy, “I wasn’t thinking straight, please let me make up for it” kissing your inner thigh, his eyes looking up at you yearning for your taste.
You don’t need to say anything, his soft pecks lead him to your cunt, the tip of his nose already grazing your clit as he takes in the sight. The gasp that escapes your lips once his tongue hits your sensitive spot makes him smile, he kisses on it gently passing his tongue along your slit enjoying the aftertaste of his own semen.
His touch makes you a loud mess, you didn’t even know you could be so loud from someone’s touch, he could feel himself getting harder from your sounds of pleasure, just the feeling of his tongue savoring your perfect taste was enough to make him a leaking mess.
Maybe he did love you, maybe you loved him back 'cause you couldn’t just keep your hands off him for the rest of the night, soaking in all the pleasure he could give you, it was an inexplicable feeling.
#svt hard thoughts#svt hard hours#dokyeom hard hours#seventeen smut#svt smut#dokyeom smut#dokyeom hard thought#svt x reader#seokmin smut#seokmin hard hours
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also ALSO-
I know the old "AFTG is badly written" jokes but hold the FUCK on for one goddamn second
I have been writing for almost 20 years. I got my college degree in English and the only reason my specialization wasn't creative writing is because I had bad time management skills and missed my chance to do my final creative writing workshop. I'm autistic and Storycrafting and Wordsmithing are my special interests. I understand writing pretty well.
AFTG opened my fucking eyes to a blind spot of the utter craftsmanship of writing sticky characters that infect you with brain worms, and here it is:
The Conflict of Material and Form
AKA the Character Creation version of Nature versus Nurture
"This isn't who I truly am. This is who I've had to become, what I've had to fashion myself into to survive. The original me is buried in there somewhere, if only you knew how to look. If only you knew to look beyond the mask."
Easily exemplified with our fave lil guys-
Neil Abram Josten:
Material: smartass with a smart mouth, attitude problem, cares about people deeply, sharp tongue to cut a bitch with, kinda feral, a lil unhinged, oblivious idiot
Form: quiet and hidden, liar liar pants of fire, run rabbit run, docile and tame, hyper-vigilant and hyper-observant
Andrew Joseph Minyard:
Material: caring, protective, strong sense of justice, gentle even, cares deeply, give me sugar or give me death, yearning
Form: cold, apathetic, ruthless and unforgiving, allow me to introduce you to my knife, regret? don't know her, i want nothing nothing nothing
Why am I using 'material and form' instead of 'nature and nurture'? Because I am a subscriber to "Characters are not meant to be real people; they are mirages of real people meant to encapsulate a function or idea that serves the story". But use whatever terms click with your noggin.
This isn't about 'want vs need'. This isn't about 'lie believed and truth learned'. This is about Presentation and Basic Action - how would this character react here? Which part are they reacting from?
With Material vs. Form, one isn't the 'true' version and the other the 'false' version of the character. They are both true and real in their own right. The Secret Sauce is that the Material and the Form fight 1v1! And regardless of which part wins, there will be consequences and rewards; so which rewards do we want and which consequences are we willing to suffer? And this fight happens beat by beat, scene by scene, plot point by plot point.
At one point in TFC Neil laments his inability to shut his fucking mouth because his Form of 'don't stand out dipshit' and his Material of 'initiate smartass.exe' are disagreeing with how to respond to his circumstances! It's that fucking meme "My healed and unhealed versions of myself deciding who is going to handle this situation" but as Storycraft!
Now, I don't think this is a new idea by any means. But sometimes to make the essence of an idea truly stick, it must be presented in multiple different ways until one triggers a "Eureka! By Jove! Aha!", and this was the way that truly made this concept stick for me. And why did it stick? Because AFTG is a labor of deep love and passion for Characters and all their complexity and inner machinations, and that depth of devotion had to manifest as some good ass writing somehow my homies in christ.
I have a collection of my favorite Storycrafting Wisdoms and one of them is effectively:
"Put Compelling Characters into a Compelling Situation and see what happens."
And Nora does Compelling Characters beautifully
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Jack Hughes 18+ thots
You thought you had heard him wrong. You looked at Jack as he stared at you waiting for your response. You knew that he loved eating you out, but you never imagined him asking you to sit on his face. His question took you by surprise so much that you were sure that you had heard him wrong. “Wha- what?” You ask as your mind seemed to not be able to comprehend if he truly said those words. “I said, sit on my face." Jack’s voice sounded so confident that you could only nod as your mouth salivated you took a quick gulp as your mind rushed with the erotic image. Your hands moved to take off his borrowed shirt, he watched intently as you removed his shirt, taking note of every curve and dip in your body before you started climbing up to his face, guiding his head towards your entrance with one hand while holding onto his hair tightly with the other. The anticipation built up inside of him as he prepared himself for this intimate act.
"Good girl." Jack’s voice dripped like honey as he pushed your legs open. He bends down to take a small sniff at your soaked folds. His eyes roll back slightly as he takes in your scent. You always smelled so good, he swears he would die between your legs. As you hesitantly complied with his request, Jack couldn't help but feel an intense mix of excitement and pride swell within him. It was clear that you were nervous about what you were doing, but your willingness to trust him and try something new made his heart swell with affection. He wanted nothing more than to make you feel comfortable and safe during this intimate moment, and he hoped that by encouraging you to take control of this encounter, it would help alleviate some of your nerves. With each second that passed, Jack grew increasingly aroused by the sight of you perched above his face, your legs spread wide open for him to explore.
As soon as you felt the warmth of Jack's breath against your pussy, you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold yourself together. He wanted to make sure you enjoyed it as much as possible. You slowly lowered yourself until you felt his lips pressing against your clit. Your fingers tightened around his hair as you moaned softly, arching your hips forward into his touch. Your other hand rested on his good shoulder for support, your nails digging into his skin just slightly. You were enjoying this more than you expected, and you weren't going to hold anything back now. Jack smirked at the way you reacted to his touch, feeling a surge of pleasure at being the cause of your moans. He gently ran his tongue along your slit, savoring the taste of your arousal. As he continued to tease your clit with his tongue, he reached up with one hand to grip your ass cheek, kneading it firmly as he kept his gaze locked on you.
He then slid his free hand up to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple teasingly as he increased the pressure on your clit with his tongue. Jack was determined to show you how much he appreciated your willingness to experiment with him, and he planned to do everything in his power to ensure you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. You gasped as you felt Jack's tongue sliding along your slit, your back arching involuntarily. You'd never been the type to enjoy oral sex, but Jack was quickly changing your mind. His skilled tongue was driving you wild, and you found yourself grinding against his face eagerly. You let out a sharp cry when you felt his thumb press against your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You rolled your hips, pushing yourself deeper onto his face as you struggled to keep yourself from falling over. You leaned forward, resting your hands on the headboard for support. "Jack… oh god…" you murmured, your breathing heavy and ragged.
Jack groaned at the sound of your pleasured cries, feeling a sense of satisfaction at knowing he was the one responsible for your pleasure. He increased the intensity of his tongue lashing, swirling it around your clit before sucking it into his mouth. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading your body and made for his hand curves, all while maintaining eye contact from under you. He could tell you were close to reaching your climax, and he didn't want to stop until you did. So, he redoubled his efforts, using both hands to stimulate your nipples while his tongue worked overtime on your clit. Jack was determined to push you over the edge, wanting to hear you scream his name as you came hard on his face. Feeling Jack's tongue swirling around your sensitive nub, combined with the sensation of his hands on your breasts, sent shivers running up and down your spine. You felt your orgasm building rapidly, and you couldn't hold back any longer. With a loud cry, you came hard, your juices gushing out onto Jack's face as you ground against his mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure. "Oh fuck! Oh god, Jack!" You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your climax. You slumped forward, panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath.
Jack grinned as he felt your orgasm wash over you, your sweet release coating his face. He lapped up your juices greedily, savoring the taste of you as you rode out your climax atop his face. He continued to suck on your clit even after you had finished coming, prolonging your pleasure as long as he could until you pushed him away. When you finally began to slow down, Jack pulled away slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at you with a satisfied smile, proud of himself for making you cum so hard. "That was fucking hot," he murmured, his voice husky with lust. Panting heavily, you lifted yourself off Jack's face, your legs trembling as you lay down on the bed. You leaned against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed yourself against his chest. "That was… amazing," you admitted, blushing slightly as you remembered just how intense the experience had been. "I've never come that hard before…"
Jack chuckled at your admission, pleased to know that he had given you such intense pleasure. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he nuzzled his nose against your neck. "I'm glad I could do that for you," he murmured, his voice still thick with desire. He gave your ass a firm squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thought about all the ways he wanted to take you. "And we're just getting started."
#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x fem!reader#new jersey devils#nj devils#jh86#nhl smut#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#hockey imagine
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An idea for (if sagau works) is that the reader is just stupidly forward when talking (Or just outright unhinged.) If they hear scaramouche talking smack? "I don't want to hear it from the short grape with a plate for a hat." Or calling childe ed sheeran. In short their mouth has almost little to no filter. And each time they say something it usually ends like: "They... Have a point..." or "Why does the creator hate me???"
Ooo this one will be very interesting to do!!
SAGAU The creator with a sharp-tongued.
They wound up teleported into Genshin Impact world and as known as the creator. But they have a strong mind as vast as the heavens but also has a tongue as sharp as a primordial blade.
Love to be straight forward or just outright unhinged when they are irritated at someone.
When they get irritated at someone they tend to say something that makes them think twice about themselves. (cause deep down when the characters think about it... it makes a lot of sense.)
And when they are very irritated they sometimes use their ability on some of the characters. Like trapping them in a golden bubble.
Short Story:
(a/n: while I write this I decided to use y/n instead of using they/them because it confuses me to tell the difference.)
As y/n are relaxing in a peaceful meadow after finishing some paperwork and having a meeting with the Archons. As y/n are relaxing the quietest get disturbed by someone's arguing, so y/n decide to check it out cause they disturb your relaxing time. Once they get to their destination they have a very unimpressed look because you saw Scarmouche and Childe.
'Of course it has to be them two.' They thought.
Notice that both Scarmouche and Childe are about to fight. Y/n decide to intervene by using their ability to trap them in a golden bubble. Once those two realize that they are trapped they turn their head towards y/n and saw that y/n is non-impressive and on a verge of snapping at them.
"Can't you two just either get along or don't make eye contact with one another." Y/n said while you can hear how irritated they are.
Of course the first one to speak is Scarmouche and said a whole lot of talk and no bite in hopes that y/n can let him go.
"I don't want to hear it from the short grape with a plate for a hat," the Creator declared, unfazed by Scaramouche's snide remarks.
Immediately Childe burst out laughing at Scara's face expression, but he is still under the flames from the creator y/n, who quickly turn towards him with golden flicker in their eye.
"The same goes for you too 'Ed Sheeran'." Y/n said with a sneer that could equal the trickster god himself. Then decided to let them go by dropping them on their butt and walking away from them.
Both Scarmouche and Childe were indazed by the creator's boldness, at this point underneath their distrust lay a resenting affirmation of truth. "They... Have a point," mumbled Scaramouche, hesitantly surrendering to the creator's unpolished perception. "For what reason does the creator loathe me???" considered Childe, however where it counts, he really wanted to appreciate their shameless negligence for accepted practices.
Thus, the creator's excursion through Teyvat proceeded, each experience leaving a path of confounded partners and dumbfounded foes afterward. For in our current reality where words held power unfathomable, the creator used their tongue like a sword, slicing through misrepresentation and uncovering the crude pith of truth, doubtlessly stirring up a lot of entertainment for everyone around them.
#genshin impact#self aware genshin#genshin x reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#genshin childe#genshin scara#genshin wanderer#genshin impact x gender neutral reader
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Lucien and Helion Headcanons (A.K.A. Wishful Thinking for a HEA)
Even though the initial adjustment is rough knowing they're father and son (especially with the inevitable frustration around the Lady of Autumn's circumstances), both Helion and Lucien genuinely try to be on good terms. Lucien is initially the more resistant, and it's Elain who helps him through this (having had plenty of experience in resisting potential love in another form).
Helion willingly takes Lucien under his wing and genuinely likes him from the start. It's awkward for a while, but Lucien's personality starts to come out, and it's because of him that everyone hears the High Lord's laugh for the first time in ages: a loud, braying laugh that Elain and the Lady of Autumn both know well.
Helion teaches Lucien the ins-and-outs of Day, but makes sure Lucien knows he's willing to answer anything about what happened (and what didn't). He will be transparent with him. When these conversations happen, they aren't always easy, and sometimes, Lucien's tongue gets a bit too sharp from the hurt he experienced, both on his own and on behalf of his mother. Helion proves to be patient, and there are certain topics the two simply agree to disagree on for now. They're good at keeping it amicable, and the two can easily converse about business over breakfast the next day without any real tension.
Lucien begins to see what a strong leader Helion is (and all a High Lord can be) in a whole new light, and Helion starts to realize how remarkable his son really is. His intelligence, his perception, resourcefulness, and genuinely good nature. It's that good nature and kindness towards others that really makes Helion love his son.
When watching Elain and the Lady of Autumn bonding (both of whom are adored by Helion, to the point Lucien jokes that his father likes her better than him but is happy about it), Helion opens up about his regrets where the Lady is concerned, and compliments the way Lucien is with Elain. That he's proud of him not just because of who he is for her and what he was willing to risk for her, but that he's proud to call Lucien his son for everything he is.
Lucien irregularly starts referring to Helion as his father after that, though he can't quite bring himself to call Helion "Father" directly (which Elain finds deeply amusing).
Helion's personality also starts to come out more and these two end up being the Father/Son Chaos Duo as they start to loosen up. Lucien gets his ass handed to him at Day Court sports regularly by Helion and Day's warriors, but that doesn't stop him from being competitive about it and the two trash-talking each other. Needless to say, Elain and the Lady of Autumn are never bored during the former and Lucien's visits or stays in Day.
For such a skilled horseman, the thought of riding any of the Pegasi is more than a little unnerving to Lucien. Elain is actually the first of the two to do it (a fact Helion enjoys good-naturedly reminding him of). Meallan won't stop giving him the side-eye and pinning his ears back every time Lucien's eye makes a sound, and Lucien mutters to the stallion that he's an asshole. Despite it, the two genuinely begin to like each other and bond over the fact both thinks the other is an asshole. It's actually a sweet mare who immediately takes a liking to Lucien that finally gets him up in the air.
Lucien begins to genuinely look forward to the time they spend in Day, and Elain adores it there not just for the sunshine, but because of her family.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#lucien vanserra#helion#helion spell cleaver#helion spell-cleaver#elain archeron#elucien#day court#the lady of autumn#acowar#a court of wings and ruin#sjm#sarah j maas#lucien acotar
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Nina reads Dracula 🦇
May 16th
Thought things couldn’t get worse for our good friend Jonathan…? WELL YOU WERE WRONG:
God preserve my sanity, for to this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed.
Is the Count running for N.1 Abusive Technically-Not-Boyfriend? Because he has a pretty strong shot.
Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say:—
"My tablets! quick, my tablets!
'Tis meet that I put it down," etc.,
for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.
We’re his only comfort and we can do nothing to help… 😭
When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came into my mind, but I took a pleasure in disobeying it.
The fact that this was an intentional infraction breaks my heart in the best way possible.
In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was behind them, they threw no shadow on the floor.
More normal human things!!!
There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth.
Honey I think Mina will forgive you for [checks notes] being manipulated through vampire pheromones
There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat.
SOMEONE DRAG HER AWAY FROM HIM
I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them.
NO NOT YOU
"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:—
"You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:—
"Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done."
Queer-coding? In my XIXth century monstrous villain? It’s more likely than you think!
"Are we to have nothing to-night?" said one of them, with a low laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor, and which moved as though there were some living thing within it.
Oh oh.
Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.
Jonathan would love 2024 Tumblr slang! He too was once overcome by The Horrors™!
I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count must have carried me here.
YIKES.
I am sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would not have brooked. He would have taken or destroyed it.
😭
As I look round this room, although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were—who are—waiting to suck my blood.
Was this staged…? Was this entire assault staged as a fucked up manipulation tactic to get Jonathan to seek protection from the Count??? I need answers
< Prev 🦇
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Infatuation Rewritten - Chapter 1
Joe Goldberg x Reader (ft. Love Quinn)
Previous | Masterlist | Next
Summary: Love's longtime friend moves back to LA. Fortunately, Joe (Will) never had too much trouble adapting (Season 2).
Warnings: Alcohol consumption (we're all adults here), Joe actually loses his mind a little at the end.
Now for something nobody expected! The long-awaited rewrite for Infatuation... I have 40 pages of this, by the way. I'd like for *some* of them to see the light of day... and so I've told myself: If I wait for it to be perfect, It'll never be posted.
I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts!
xoxo Ona
My eyes roamed the list of names by the front door of the apartment complex. There were about four total, so finding yours was the easiest part. The hardest step came in the form of mustering up the courage to press the buzzer. But, was it really a trouble with courage? The more I thought, as my finger hovered over the button, the more I began to consider it to be uncertainty.
I pause and reach my other hand into my pocket. My fingers slide across the screen of your phone, and I remind myself why I'm here. Simply put, I’m here to give you your phone back. I found it on the passenger’s seat of my car and almost thought to tell Love… Instantly, a part of me knew she would’ve pried it from my grip to give to you herself – and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for us to speak again, this time unmonitored by her perceptive gaze and sharp ears… and without the alcohol in your system.
Last night, you clung to Love as she touched you tenderly, playing the role of your dutiful sober saviour. She hosted a dinner and she invited her friends. One of them was you.
“A good friend,” She had called you. The last she’d spoken to you was ten years ago, and I guess I hadn’t realized good friends stay out of reach for a decade at a time. It didn’t matter how much time had split you two apart, though, because Love embraced you with a warm smile and open arms. There wasn’t any malice, no judgement either. She was just happy to have you back in her life. When you got too drunk to take public transportation, Love tried to coax you into staying the night. You wouldn’t budge, even with a slipping tongue, fluttering eyes, and a head too heavy to stay upright. So she compromised: you let her coddle you, sober you up just enough, and I drove you home. It wasn’t even that late, Love just couldn't stop pouring you wine after wine after wine. You seemed like you needed it, though. Tense as you were. Pent up little thing.
“What’s your relationship like with Love?” I asked, feeling rather bold with your inebriated self. The image of her hand resting on your thigh flashed in my mind. I laughed. “She hadn’t mentioned you until you’d moved back to LA. She practically can't shut up about you now.”
You shifted in your seat like a child. No position in my car seemed comfortable for you, and you had made it more than obvious.
“She’s a good friend.” You responded and looked out the window like it meant something. Love had said the same thing — I believed you both — but I felt as though you were withholding something else from the conversation. The annoying bell on your purse jingles as you tuck it closer to your side.
“You two seem close. Should I be concerned?” I then asked teasingly, laughing to fill the awkward tension of a silent car ride. I wanted to spark something in you, but you brushed it off as you curled your arms around your waist.
“I think I had too much to drink…” I glanced at you, and I was suddenly nervous. Your coat was askew, hanging off your shoulders. I knew you were drunk, but your direct announcement sounded to me as a warning.
“Tell me if you need to throw up, okay?” You slowly nodded before slotting your forehead against the cool car window. We remained like that until you got home, choosing to stumble your way for a block to feel a semblance of privacy – but I watched you walk up those steps. I knew your building, and you were still too fucked up to realize.
I pull your phone out of my pocket and look it over one more time. My thumb runs over the plastic case before turning it around and looking at myself in the black reflection.
Your phone is dead. Has been since I found it. None of my chargers fit into the port, unsurprisingly. It’s one of those phones where the keyboard slides out, for Pete's sake. Your phone is more than a few generations old. A brick. I chewed my fingers raw trying anything I could to get it started again – I wanted to pry, really. I’ll be honest with you here, I really wanted this glimpse into your personal affairs.
I wondered, exasperatedly, about what you were hiding behind this screen. Clutching it tighter into my palm, I lift my free hand and press the buzzer.
A few long moments after the sound, I hear a click.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N. It’s Will –” I begin to say, ready to explain myself in the same manner I had rehearsed at home, eating breakfast, in the car, and on my way up the steps. However, you cut me off immediately.
“Do you have my phone?”
My heart skips a beat and I’m momentarily stunned. I blink a few times before speaking.
“Yeah, actually.” I replied. “I found it on the passenger seat this morning, I guess I didn't see it when I got home last night.”
“I’m going to buzz you in.” Perfect.
After hearing the buzzer, the door clicked. I made my way inside. The stairs were wooden and creaky, the walls showing obvious water damage, and the lights hummed obnoxiously. Obviously, none of this was of your doing. Your landlord just didn’t care.
Your door’s paint was chipping off, revealing the cracked wooden layer underneath, but the rusted numbers on your door somehow looked worse. I knocked.
I heard the shuffling of your feet from behind the door before it opened. When your head peeked out, you gave me a smile and extended your hand.
I momentarily look at it, thinking… Right. I drop your phone into your awaiting palm. I almost thought you wanted me to reach out as well. That would’ve been too good, right?
“May I use your bathroom?” I ask.
Your mouth opens momentarily, as you look away and off to the side. There’s nothing there, you’re simply thinking it through and disappearing into your head again.
“Sure.” You then reply, reluctantly scooting back and giving me my first glimpse into your apartment.
If only you knew how ecstatic I was to slip through the crack of your front door. My heart thumps excitedly, as I waste no time looking around. By the door sits a coat hanger with a few pairs of shoes around its feet.
“Should I take off my boots?” I ask.
“Yeah, actually. I’d appreciate it.”
I untie the laces and slip them off my feet. Then, just as I drop them by the coat hanger, you beckon me to follow.
Your apartment is a fair size, with one large space making up both the kitchen and the living room. Right of the front door, a short hallway leads us to a room. As you continue past the door, I slow myself and look to my left. Your hallway has a little louvred closet, and I can’t help but reach out and open it. There’s nothing exciting inside, only white bed sheets.
“The bathroom is over here.” I suddenly hear you say from within the bedroom. I close the closet and hurry along, hesitantly making my way into your room.
I examine the layout of your furniture: your bed is made, your dresser tucked away in the corner, your desk by the window, and your small bookcase right by its side. I take another look toward your window: It overlooks the front of the building, I think. I want to look around more, but I’ve already entered an uncomfortable silence through this simple observation… you’re bound to find it weird. Hell, you’re already finding it weird – my being here – if your reluctance to me using your bathroom is anything to go by.
“Thanks.” I tell you, nodding in your direction and scooting by to enter the bathroom. I peer over my shoulder, however, and take another peek into your bedroom before shutting the door.
In the bathroom, I made my way to the toilet and listened to your shuffling from the other side of the door. I lifted the seat without paying much attention, and stilled when I heard you leave the bedroom entirely. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to use it.
I waited a moment, lowered the toilet seat again, and didn’t bother flushing or washing my hands. The sound could set you off that I was finished, and I definitely wasn’t finished. I needed the opportunity to snoop just a tad bit more. I unlocked and creaked the bathroom door open, observing the quiet room with more attention than I had before.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I leave the door open. My head snaps in the direction of your bedroom door and I pleasantly find it shut from the rest of your apartment. You’re making this too easy. I make my way around quietly, being careful with my steps as I approach your nightstand with a familiar object glinting in the natural sunlight of the room: your phone, on its charger. When I press the button on its side, the logo appears as it powers on.
I take the time needed for the phone to boot up as an excuse to look about your room. The bookcase, which I had only glanced at before, takes shape infront of me. My hand drifts along the spines of the books… and I feel unsatisfied. You have a small selection of kitschy modern romance novels. My judging eyes shift to your dresser, the framed pictures sitting on top catching my attention. I don't recognize anyone, but a weird feeling washes over me. You’re not in any of these pictures. I feel a… disconnection… from the room. My eyes move elsewhere and I catch sight of a few unopened cardboard boxes against the wall near the bedroom door. They’re folded. Unused. I wonder briefly as I look back down to your phone. It’s open.
Unlocking it was easy, no password. You know, the good thing about an older cellphone model is how easy it is to just… get in. I flip your phone over and pop the back right off. I slide the chip out of my pocket and right into place. Once everything is back in its place, I unlock your phone and fully install the hardware. As much as I would like to start snooping about your phone now, I close it and set it back down on your nightstand. I make my way back into the bathroom, pulling my phone out all the while. I open the freshly installed app and bite at my lip as I see the device sync up. Done.
I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and make my way out of the bedroom. When I step back into your living room kitchen, you’re seated at the short island, your back to the small living room.
“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” I say, making my way back to the front door. You swivel the chair as I walk by and watch me duck for my boots.
“Thanks for bringing me my phone. I was almost going to head out to Anavrin–”
“Oh, I don’t work Saturdays. You would’ve missed me entirely.” I say all matter-of-factly, like an asshole. You shrink.
“Noted.”
As I loop the laces around, I look up at you. Your brows knit together and you avert your eyes from me. I watch you for another moment, smiling to myself. You’re nervous.
“What’re all the boxes for?” I ask, looking around the apartment. They’re a little sprawled out everywhere, but most of them are still folded up. I chew my cheek as I wonder – are you packing up to leave already? You just got here not even a week ago. Is that what’s gotten you so nervous? Cause I caught you? I bite my tongue and choose to rephrase my thoughts. “Still unpacking?”
“No, It’s… complicated.” You respond.
I nod my head and stand. Your eyes fleet to me for a second before drawing away. Is it me, Y/N? Am I making you nervous?
“Thank you again, for my phone.” You mumble, drifting off somewhere. I smile wide, and huff. You’re not a threat. A pest, likely. But not a threat.
“Yeah, no problem.”
I’m out the door not a moment later, spinning my keys while on the way to my car.
—
Back at my apartment, I notice the door’s unlocked.
I'm cautious as I walk through the threshold, peering ahead only to notice Love behind the counter.
“Love, I didn’t expect you to break into my apartment.” I tease, taking off my boots and shedding my jacket.
“I thought you’d be home,” she whines. “Besides, it’s not breaking in when you’ve got a key.”
I make my way into the kitchen, to her side, and slip my hands around her waist. She turns her head to look at me, a big smile on her face.
“Where were you?” She mumbles, still looking down at the counter.
“I went over to Y/N’s apartment,” I began, rolling the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “She forgot her phone in my car last night.” I kiss her shoulder.
“Mmh,” Love hums. “That was nice of you.”
I look over her shoulder, noticing the restaurant brochures infront of her.
“What were you doing here?”
“Looking for something to order. I don’t really want to cook again tonight.”
I lift my hands off her hips, placing them on either side of the counter. I press forward, and slide one of the menus into view.
“This one seems good.” I whisper, inconsiderate of what I’m pointing to. I’ve got one thing on my mind right now, and it isn’t the brochures.
Catching onto my carelessness, Love turns around and faces me. She tilts her head and observes my face for a moment before sliding her arms around my neck.
“How did it go?” Love suddenly inquires about us again.
“It went well,” I tell her, keeping it short. Still, she pries.
“Tell me more,”
“Well, she showed me to her bathroom,” I look around, as though I was recalling the few minutes I stood in your apartment. I’ll keep the snooping to myself. “Aaand, that’s about it.”
Love thins her lip. She’s pensive for a moment. She thinks, and I watch her grapple with her thoughts as she looks about the kitchen. She clears her throat before speaking.
“Will,” She starts, her hand taps my chest and I watch it circle around. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important, but… can you do me a huge favour?”
My hands find Love’s face, cupping her cheeks, and pressing her forehead to mine. My eyes search hers, and I pout.
“Anything for you,” I tell her. Anything.
“Forty has this thing tomorrow… I didn’t think ahead, and my plans are jumbled. But, this is really important.”
For a second, my stomach drops. I try not to let the horror show on my face as I’m convinced she’s about to glue me to Forty’s side for a day. But she continues.
“Y/N needs help clearing the apartment,” My eyes narrow, and I nod as I continue to listen. “You see… Will. It isn’t really my place to say this, but I thought you should know her mom passed away a few months ago. She’s been trying to sort through the estate, and they finally gave her the green light to clear out her old apartment. I can’t be there to help.”
Love’s hands slide over mine, cupping my fingers as I cup her cheeks.
“Are you free sometime tomorrow? Would you be able to help her out?”
With this revelation, the framed pictures sitting on the dresser make sense.
“I mean… yeah. I can do that.”
Love lights up at my response, hopping up for an intimate kiss. My hands fall to her ass, but she pulls away too soon. Always too soon.
“Thank you, Will,” She grins, tapping my chest again. “I’ll let her know.”
As Love pulls out her phone, I watch her tap away at the screen.
“You know, that entire complex looks unlivable. The place might have a rodent problem, too.” I say as she hits send.
“I know! I told her she could stay with me,” Love leans her head against my chest with a frustrated huff, slipping her phone onto the counter.
“You both already spend so many afternoons together,” I begin, sliding her head up to look at me. My fingers brush her cheek, and my next words come out hushed. “If she was around any more, I’d never have you to myself.”
Her eyes flutter as my hands brush baby hairs out of her face. I hum, and lean in for another kiss.
“Will,” she starts, pressing her palm into my chest. She pushes me back, and I let her. “I’m not in the mood right now. Is that alright?”
I purse my lips… a little agitated, but I understand. I’m in the mood, but I understand. She doesn’t want to have sex, she wants to talk about you.
“Of course, Love,” I kiss her cheek. “Some other time.”
With a smile, she returns her attention to those stupid brochures. I agree to whatever she wants, whatever she’s in the mood for. I always do.
Once dinner’s sorted, we pair it with a movie on my tv. We cuddle, and it’s nice. During an intimate scene, a quiet one with rustling bedsheets, Love decides to speak.
“I’m glad you’re getting along well with Y/N.” She says with a hum, rubbing her face into my chest. I grunt when her hand squeezes my knee. “She appreciates it too, I know it. She doesn’t know many people in the city anymore.”
I tear my eyes away from the sex on tv to look Love in the eyes.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I have that thing with Forty. Someone seems a little forgetful tonight” I laugh and apologize, scolding myself. Of course… Tomorrow. I did forget. She turns her attention back to the movie. When I reluctantly return my own attention to the screen, I can’t help but scrutinise everything I see. Love seems pleased, watching the protagonist and her girlfriend lounge after what felt like the most drawn-out fucking I’d ever witnessed on tv. She’s probably thinking to herself: what a nice couple, happy, in love, and all tuckered out. But I feel differently. I see something I’m missing. We could be them, Love and I. But, instead of being wrapped in each other with more to do than to SAY, I think about the brick phone, I think about the lunch dates, I think about the selfishness of only reaching out when things became convenient, and I think about YOU. I think about the rust on your door, think about your dead mom, I think about how Love wants me to help you pack her things – like I’m some tool to be borrowed and Love’s the kind neighbour willing to lend – and I think about how Love touches you and I can’t help but wish I could crawl into your skin and rip you up from the inside.
The bell on your bag rings in my ears, jingling as you tap it over, and over again. Should I feel threatened by you? Because I do, even when everything about you proves to me you’re no threat at all. You’re meek, small, pathetic. Despite it all, you’ve stepped into my yard, trampled the very bushes I’ve trimmed and watered to perfection, and made yourself cozy against the love of my life. And, like a call to battle, the bell stirs something in me.
But you’re innocent, I cry in my head. You’re not Peach. You’re no evil mastermind, and stepping into someone else’s yard doesn’t mean much when you’re a helpless rabbit. Your mom is dead, you’re grieving. I think about you, in my car, curled in on yourself, skin exposed. Scared. I grit my teeth at the thought.
When Love departs, just after the movie ends, I spend some time catching up on your messages. That’s all I can really do, actually. With such an old model, your system doesn’t allow access to anything, anywhere, anytime. Just the text messages. I scroll to find your mention of me dropping by earlier.
‘Left my phone in Will’s car. He dropped it off.’
‘He’s the best <3’ Love responded.
About twenty minutes after that, Love let you know I’m replacing her tomorrow.
‘We can reschedule.’ You tried, but Love tells you the plans are already made. You can’t run from this. Neither can I.
I recline on my couch, huffing as I read as far as your messages go. I couldn’t get the older logs but anything you send from here on out, I have access to. When the late hours of the night finally catch up to me, I look out my window at the flickering street lights, and I head to bed.
#joe goldberg x reader#joe goldberg#love quinn#love quinn x reader#yandere#x reader#yandere x reader#yandere joe goldberg#Joe Goldberg x Love Quinn
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Anon cause I can't ask from my sideblog, I've never requested anything before but here we go, I couldn't decide so here's a few to choose from, I hope any of these inspire you~
'If you won't take care of yourself, then who will?' - Abner or Bob, dealer's choice
'How is it you're never scared?' - Johnson, I adore the way you write him~
'Don't we deserve to be happy?' - dealer's choice :3c
'Don't you know what you mean to me?' - this one is a longshot but Simon Lynch if you've ever seen his episode
Choice
Pairing - Johnson (Reprisal) x Neutral!Reader
Summary - You ask Johnson a question that's been weighing on you for a while now.
Word Count - 715
Warnings - slightest bit of angst
A/N - Sorry for the lame ass title. I decided to go with Johnson's prompt as I've been feeling very inspired by him lately. Thank you!
July’s summer air was muggy, the humidity sticking to the crevices of your skin. Crickets, and the other sounds of insects surrounded you. The car headlights split between the overwhelming darkness of the field, illuminating on you and Johnson. His arm supported the back of your head, as you snuggled into his side. The worn quilt beneath you two acted as a barrier from the harsh dried patches of grass.
Up above, a cluster of stars against a black sheet twinkled down at you. Music poured from the portable radio propped up on the hood of the car, the singer unknown to your ears. Yet it was soft and lovely, their voice tugging at the loose threads of your heart.
Johnson sighed, shifting his body closer to yours. Your hand rested flat against his chest, toying with one of the many sleek black buttons on his shirt. He was speaking about Matty, and Ethan. Something had gone wrong, a run-in that ended poorly (for the others).
“How is it you’re never scared?” You asked, voice quiet against the night.
He briefly glanced down at you, sensing the worry in your tone. “What do you mean, darlin?”
You sighed, moving to sit up and properly face him. His hands tried coaxing you back into his side, your sudden absence leaving a cold gap of space.
“You’ve been a Phoenix since I met you, Johnson.” You explained, crossing your legs. “And probably longer than that. You talk about things going wrong, run-ins and fights, like it's another Tuesday.” His eyes (as dark as the sky above you) watched, puzzled by your words.
“God, I imagine it’s probably terrifying sometimes.” You said, staring down at your lap. The question had sat on your tongue for weeks, almost too heavy to hold. It felt almost silly to fret over Johnson’s well-being like this. He alway assured you things were fine, and you expected to hear those same words now.
Only you didn’t.
“I’ve been a Phoenix for years now.” He confessed, mulling over your question. “Everything about that life sort of becomes second nature to you.” A thought crossed his eyes, quickly diminished as he sucked a breath of air through his teeth. You could see the chips in his stone-faced facade, wanting to come undone around you.
“I guess to an outsider, it is pretty terrifying.” Johnson continued, eyes looking up at the sky.
“So, it never scares you, at all?” You asked again, knee brushing against his hip. He exhaled, craning his neck to look up at you. His hand found your thigh, where he subconsciously ran his thumb over the jean material.
“Sometimes.” He whispered, as if it were a secret.
You felt your heart splinter, as the shimmering of the stars got caught in his pupils. The ballad of some song filtering through the radio filled the gap of silence. About some singer detailing the woes of life, and the hardships he had to overcome. The sharp chirpings of the crickets cut through the music though, nearly deafening.
Without another word, you crawled back into his arms, where they warmly engulfed you. He nuzzled the side of your face, a kiss (as faint as the wind) left upon your temple. His hands greedily welcomed you, pressing you into his side as if trying to mold your figure into his.
“I chose this life of a Phoenix.” He said, lifting your hand to pepper kisses across the knuckle. “It’s the only life I got, and it’s alright for what it is.”
You nodded, as if you understood. Perhaps a small part of you did, somewhere. We’re told we never get to choose our families. But you did, slowly along the way. Sure, people filtered in and out of your life, as they do. But it was beautiful to have a choice altogether, on who you can love. You wondered where you stood though, in-between the family of Phoenix’s and Johnson. If maybe, you held some significance somewhere in-between those two lives. The possibility of there being no gravity to your presences in Johnson’s life sat like a bowling ball in your stomach.
You searched the sky for an answer, but the stars only winked, providing none.
Was the choice of love still beautiful if it hurt?
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