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mondaymelon · 11 months

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— …𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱..!? ♥

:feat~ alhaitham, kaveh, cyno, tighnari x gn!reader:

⤷ just doing my part to contribute a fic to this ✨scrumptious✨ trope ⤷ ...might have a part 2 with the anemo men... ⤷ the title says it all. (sfw!!)

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

"Ah, welcome, travelers! Deepest apologies, however..."

Your eyes linger on AL HAITHAM's expression as it flickers slightly at the innkeeper's sheepish words.

"Only one room, hm?" His gaze is stern as he eyes the man from head to toe, before making a slight 'tch' noise with his tongue. "There's no point in complaining. We'll stay the night." The ashen-haired man makes a slight nodding motion, taking the keys from the other's hand. The two of you had originally planned to stay in separate rooms for the night, before meeting up in the morning, but one room shouldn’t be too much of a problem… right?

As the two of you head up the stairs of the hotel, making your way to the designated room, silence is the only thing that envelops the two of you. However, it’s not one of those awkward moments of quiet, more so a comfortable one - so it doesn’t exactly bother any of you.

It isn’t until Al Haitham turns the knob and swings the door open that the silence turns… dangerously unsettling.

The reason? Beyond the door frame, into the space, lies a singular bed. One, not two.

It takes a good ten seconds more before one of you speaks. Al Haitham moves his lips as to, but words have already left your mouth.

“...Well, this is a predicament, isn’t it?”

“Unexpected, perhaps, but not exactly.” It’s strange, the way he tilted his head and how his eyes are trained on every movement. “I see no problem with sharing-”

“Woah woah woah-!” You cut him off, shaking your head frantically as you wave your hands, seemingly to disperse your… thoughts. “T-That’s what intimate people do, and we’re…!”

“...Coworkers.” Al Haitham finishes your sentence with an air of smugness riding his expression. “Ah, but who's to say anything will occur? Oh, you don’t happen to be thinking about anything unsightly, do you?” His tone is lilting as his gaze upon you seems much too observant. His tongue has always been quick, and more so sharp, and you can feel the tinge of his words cause a flush of red to settle upon your expression.

“...What… hey! Stop painting me as the bad guy here! I wasn’t thinking about…” Your face goes red. “...A-Anything!” The relationship between you and him had always been somewhat blurred. Sure, you were merely coworkers, but sometimes, the atmosphere that the two of you shared was easily much more… insinuate.

“I’m sure.” Somehow, Al Haitham’s sedate words hold a sarcastic essence, before he lets out a quiet sigh. “It’s getting late. If you insist, I’ll sleep on the floor, and you can go ahead and take the bed.” He wraps his arms around your waist firmly, placing you on the soft surface with ease, before moving to take off his shirt.

“...Wait-”

“What, do you have any complaints? I thought you were the one being all huffy about having to share a bed with me.”

"That's not what I..." The hesitance in your voice is evident as you tried your best to resist the urge to stare at him. “...Well, I suppose it’s fine if I do it just once, right?”

Al Haitham smiles, just slightly. “If that’s what you want, then very well.”

And just like that, a note of satisfaction in his voice, he nestles into the space next to you without another word. You can feel his body press up against yours, his warmth spreading into you. It’s awkward, how the silence that surrounds the two of you is so suffocating, but it doesn’t last long, not until Haitham shifts his body and pulls you into his own, his firm arms around your waist.

“Is this okay?” He sounds hesitant, and you can feel the subtle vibrations of his heartbeat against yours.

“...Mhm.”

“Then…” The next words that come out of his mouth are soft, uncharacteristically so as the smile that's painted across his face only widens.

“Sleep well.” ♥

“Oh, more customers? I have to inform you…”

You blink in disbelief at the receptionist’s words, struggling to keep KAVEH on his feet. The male has almost his entire weight leaning against your frame for support as he giggles slightly, loosley turning his head around to observe the dim scenery.

“Eh…? Wh’re we?” His words slur together as he shifts his position.

In hindsight, you should’ve known that when the blonde invited you out for drinks, you were the one who’d be paying… and, of course, Kaveh would be the one who ended up black out drunk. You were no stranger to these incidents, having heard tales of his excursions through Al Haitham’s huffy words, and having experienced your fair share of these ordeals yourself. Still, these past occurrences did little to aid you in the current predicament you were in… that being that there was apparently only a one bed room left at the singular inn within a 50 mile radius… it seems that you’ve just about signed your life warrant the day you accepted Kaveh’s proposal.

“...Alright, we’ll take it.” You hesitantly receive the keys from the innkeeper's hands.

“Th-Thank you…!” The man gives you a hasty bow as he watches you depart, up the stairs and into your room.

“Great… well, what do we do now…?” You let out a long sigh as you dump Kaveh onto the mattress, wringing your sore shoulders with slight disdain. It’s rather fruitless to be talking to someone completely out of it, but it’s a habit that you’ve adopted. “Ah, I suppose there’s only one option.”

While it’s rather awkward to leave him in his clothes that reek of wine, it’d be even more disturbing if you were to remove them, so you decide to leave the blonde as is. However, taking of your overgarments should suffice, so you proceed to do so, before sidling next to Kaveh under the covers.

“Night, Kaveh.”

...

It takes another two hours until the male awakes, blinking groggily in the darkened atmosphere.

“...Huh…?” He moves to sit up, but pauses when he feels someone next to him in bed. “Wh-”

He recognizes that familiar silhouette, that’s pressed against his body, sending warmth spreading throughout his body… archons, everything feels too warm, too hot…

Haha, maybe he’s still a little drunk… to the point he’s hallucinating…?

“Mm… Kaveh…”

It’s barely intelligible, the sleepy mumbles that escape your lips, but he hears them, and they send his heart aflutter.

“...Are you… awake?”

There’s no response.

“Hah…”

Drinking buddies. If he had to describe the relationship he shared with you, those might be the words he’d say. Ah, but of course, that phrase surely wouldn’t be enough to describe what he felt for you. Kaveh is one to fall easily… and fall hard, and that’s precisely what’s happened.

He takes one last glance at your sleeping form, a soft smile spreading across his features as he faces you, heart thumping loudly in his ears. And it’s then that he’ll say two words toward you that’d he never dare attempt to if you were awake.

“Night, love.” ♥

“Th-The General Mahamatra? U-Unfortunately, sir…”

“One room?” CYNO's tone shows no emotion, and you can tell that the innkeeper is absolutely terrified.

“I-I’m very sorry sir-! It’s just that-”

“Save it. We’ll take the room.” You’re sure his stern words may come off as too threatening - and you’d be right - the innkeeper lets out a petrified squeal, frantically nodding as he practically throws the keys into the mahamatra’s hands.

“H-Haveanicestay!!”

Cyno seems perplexed as he walks to the designated room, a scowl making its way onto his features. “What was his problem? Ah, perhaps he was j’inn’tery.” There’s a long pause. “What, do you not get it? He’s an innkeeper, and he was jittery… so he’s-”

“Yes, Cyno, I get it.” You let out an exasperated sigh at his antics. Even though the two of you were on the hunt for runaway criminals, he still somehow had the gall to make wisecracks. Sure, it made the trip slightly more “entertaining”, but at the same time, certainly much more insufferable.

“Was that not funny to you?” Great, now he’s pouting, puffing out his cheeks as usual. Anyone would just about laugh if you told them how the renowned mahamatra, ‘instrument of justice’, was here, frowning at you like a child.

“C’mon, say something, will you?” He reaches for the door handle, gaze fixated on you as his pout only deepens.

Yeah, ridiculous indeed.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s leave it at th…” You never finish your sentence, blinking into the open doorway. “...Am I seeing things, or is there only one bed?”

“He did say there was only one room.” Somehow, the male seems completely indifferent about the situation, merely unwrapping his scarf and placing it on the wall rack.

“Well when he said that, I at least expected there to be two beds…!” You let out a groan, loosing a couple swears from your lips.

“What’re you getting so worked up over? I’m sleeping on the floor, so-”

You pause. “...Then I’d feel bad.”

“Archons, what do you want me to do?” Now he’s the one getting strangely worked up over the topic.

“Just sleep with me for tonight, okay? Let’s not think too much about it.” With that, in a desperate attempt to hide the growing blush on your cheeks, you whip around, tugging off a couple layers. It takes the man the count of three to hesitantly agree, and when he does, his voice is quiet.

“...Do you want the left or right side?”

“You choose.”

…

Fuck.

Somehow, in the midst of your packing several days before, you had failed to realize the need to pack nightclothes. Now, you sat here, face overcast as you towered over your half-empty suitcase.

“What’s up with you?” Cyno’s already in bed, shirt off as he aimlessly twirls with his hair, one hand propped under his head.

“...I forgot to pack sleepwear. Can I borrow one of your shirts?” It’s awkward how sheepish you sound. There’s a silence that seems to stretch onward, to the point where you hesitantly turn your head to see Cyno’s expression - only to see his face flushed, one hand over his mouth.

“Ah…? Y-Yeah, go ahead.”

…Hold on, did the general mahamatra just stutter? No wisecracks or archons awful puns, but stunned silence?

Now here’s a moment you won’t forget. ♥

“It’s getting late for the night, here, let’s stay at my place.”

Those are the words he spoke to you minutes prior, and presently, TIGHNARI's leading you up the stairs into his home, hand around your wrist as he gently tugs you along. His ears are fully perked up, flicking to every rustle as the dark forest comes to life while night falls. “Alright, here we are.” He smiles, albeit a little sheepishly. “It’s a little small, but it’ll do.”

As he opens the door, the first thought that comes to mind is: cozy.

And it really is, with the dim, warm lighting and the flowering vines that dangle from the round ceiling. There’s no shortage of potted plants and books lying about the house, most sitting in organized cases and shelves, while a few others sit strewn at his lamp-lit desk. All around, it immediately strikes you as someplace Tighnari would call home.

“Ahaha, sorry, it’s a little messy at the moment… I wasn’t expecting visitors, so…” He laughs softly, before shaking his head, as if to dismiss several thoughts. “You must be tired, right? The bedroom is over there, tell me if you need anything.” The male moves to walk away, but your words stop him.

“Bedroom… as in singular?”

More laughter, this time more nervous. “Apologies, I live alone, so I only have…” Tighnari coughs into his fist, ears twitching. “Well, to put it simply, one bed.”

“...Oh. Oh.” The information takes a good second to digest, so you only blink at the male. “Ah, then, where will you sleep?”

“It’s no big matter, there’s a couch in commons where I can-”

“Sleep with me.”

“...Pardon?” His eyes are wide as he stares at you, ears pressed flat against his head.

“Shit, wait no, that didn’t sound right-” You let out a long sigh. “The couch would be uncomfortable, so…”

“...Then I suppose it’d be alright.”

…

“Nari… do you… usually hug your tail when you sleep?”

He flinches, whipping around with wide eyes, ears shot straight up. “Wh- I- I thought you were asleep-” His face is blown red as he lets out a mortified high note.

“Is it soft?” Your eyes sparkle as you lean in closer, seemingly unaware of the almost negative distance between the two of you. “C-Can I try hugging it-?”

The male seems to deflate with every word, his ashamed expression only reddening. The only words he manages to get out are mumbles. “If- If you really want to- then…”

Without another word of confirmation, you wrap your arms around the soft, fluffy surface and lean into it, earning you a surprised ‘wh-’ that leaves Tighnari’s voice in a whisper.

“What are you-!”

“Nari, you’re really cute. I like you.”

“...Fuck it, please. Just go to sleep already, okay?”

“Say it back.”

“Hah… sleep well, beloved. I love you too.” ♥

(a/n) 2.3k words. that's almost double my usual amoutn jLKSDJlksjf

ehehe did you notice how in tighnari's section, the starting dialogue was his line, unlike the others? additionally, he was the only one who directly confessed (after you)!!

i wanna make these little information tidbits like the taisho era secrets an occuring thing hehe

2K notes · View notes

miinatozakiii · 6 months

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can we get even closer?

detective!jihyo x spiderwoman!reader (pt. 3, finale!) ; smut, fluff

synopsis: spiderwoman becomes 10x more alluring AND convincing, detective park is completely disregarding the chief at this point.

wc: 11.7k

warnings: blood ; mentions of wounds, cuts, bruises ; smut!!!

pls read for context: pt.1, pt.2

the crime scene was a messy tapestry of deception and disorder.

jihyo scanned the mess of a venue. there were flipped-over tables, pieces of chairs, and debris scattered all over the venue—even a light had fallen from the ceiling—it was a sight.

the cluttered, frenzied scene wasn't even the worst part; to tell the truth, what made it worse was seeing her colleagues all stuck together tangled up in spiderwebs against the wall.

the chief included in the mess.

the chief was tangled up alone, arms and legs restrained with only his head free. he seemed infuriated; this does not help your case. the chief will hate your guts even more, and if he catches you, he might rip them out.

jihyo has her final conclusion made up in her head after fully processing the mess in front of her: you have one functioning brain cell.

the officers and chief aren't the only ones captured, there's an apparent culprit tied together in a large, thicker layer of cobweb: the lizard.

it's green, it's ugly, and it's huge—jihyo furrows her brows at the sight—but her face lights up when she sees the familiar silhouette of the special spider-like "hero."

you stand there in front of the grotesque reptile, gazing at it with slumped shoulders and heavy breaths. you're exhausted and aching from the very physically demanding task. on the bright side: there are no broken bones or any limbs missing—that's a plus—though there are a few scratches that rip the new suit you had just gotten. you sigh at the thought of having to face your suit designer nayeon. you really don't want to hear her complaints again.

the thought of nayeon yelling in your ear distracts you from the blood that seeps out the cuts on your body and the pain from the sore areas that will surely be dark, annoying bruises—though the thought of that nayeon pulling at your ear and bickering with you doesn't distract you forever, the discomfort in your abdomen returns and you almost fall over.

screw that ugly ass lizard.

jihyo runs over to your side, looking at your weary state.

"y/n-" jihyo catches herself, immediately quieting down when uttering the last part of your name. she watches her words even if she's not in the field of vision of the officers, they still have ears afterall. "spiderwoman, are you okay?" jihyo asks, looking at the cuts in your suit.

"yeah." you respond, and you're lying your ass off because you think you might fall over soon. "just a bit beat up, could've been worse."

“you think a stab to the stomach is comparable to a paper cut. " the detective sighs, “that doesn’t make this any better.”

it’s evident in her tone that she’s worried. your heart feels heavy knowing that she feels like that for you, but you don't want to overwhelm her anymore. you put your hand on her shoulder and her eyes soften. her look almost hurts more than that stupid pain in your stomach.

"park," you say softly, "i'm fine."

“you’re not.”

"i need to change back and leave, keep an eye on the lizard?"

"y/n-"

"it's spiderwoman." you say sternly. your voice had lost any hint of playfulness, now it’s more of a croaked-out, low tone.

"sorry, i just-"

"let's talk later, yeah?" you urge. jihyo nods with disappointment.

you smile as you shoot a web up, looking at her with the same softness before pulling yourself and swinging away.

jihyo's jaw tightens up.

you don’t break into jihyo’s house or even show up at the department for four days and counting. that’s 96+ hours of jihyo not seeing you, of her having all these questions swarming in her brain with no answers and 96+ hours of missing you. detective park is running out of patience.

jihyo spins the pen in her hand while examining the papers related to the “lizard” case, i mean, there’s not much to do since the lizard-man had been captured after turning back to normal, but jihyo had to do a brief check before going back to the prison to interrogate the human form of that nightmare.

the identity of the lizard was found after it had transformed back into a slender, fragile man: dr. watanabe, lead scientist at minatozaki industries and former friend of the chief.

the chief seemed to be slowly losing it after the whole event—who wouldn’t be after having to ask your detective to cut you and the rest of your coworkers out of the spiderweb that was shot from the wrists of the person you went on a whole tangent about not trusting—exactly.

it’s been hectic.

the detective shoves the papers back into the folder before heading into the room that holds the visitation booths, which is empty and only has one guard present. she runs a hand through her hair before nodding at the guard and sitting at booth three.

her foot taps at the ground as she waits—not because she’s anxious—it’s just a habit she’s had since college.

there’s the sound of the door opening and not even five seconds later the scientist sits in front of her. he looked terrible: bags under his eyes, brows creased, and hair disordered—that’s not like him at all. jihyo takes out a paper from the folder and holds the black telephone handle close to her ear.

“you’ve finally agreed to talk.”

“against my will, where’s the chief.” watanabe spits back through the line. jihyo shoots a look that has the scientist shrinking in his seat.

“not here.” she says sternly, “now i would really appreciate if you could be competent since you’ve caused so much trouble.”

“bring me that damn chief and i’ll talk, they said he’d be here.”

“he’s not here, so quit whining. i have some questions that you need to answer, i’d advise that you respond well and with a compliant attitude.” the detective warns threateningly.

the scientist makes eye contact once with jihyo then looks back down, ready to answer with his hand clutching the telephone handle tightly.

jihyo ends up leaving the visitation booth with sluggish shoulders and a paper with rushed, messy jotted-down notes of the criminals’ answers and puts it in her bag. once she steps outside into the afternoon light, she’s quick to stretch out her arms, groaning at the relieving sensation.

“hi.”

that voice is very familiar.

the detective turns and her eyes widen at the sight of you. you’re standing there with a smile, warm and friendly.

a dark, navy sweater sits loosely on your figure, and your hair is tied up. you look beautiful, and not as beat up as jihyo figures you should look (i mean, you literally had a whole wwe match with a lizard a couple days ago, so it’s surprising to say the least). you seem content, you seem perfectly fine and jihyo hates that you haven’t bothered her. where have you been?

jihyo stares at you in awe, well, maybe with some confusion and a hint of anger too. she wants to ask where you’ve been, i mean, it’s been days and you haven’t knocked on her window, she had even waited by that stupid window of hers with the hope that you’d barge in. she wants to ask how you’ve been doing, if your injuries been bothering you maybe and if your cuts healed. jihyo wants to know everything, from how you’re doing physically to what’s going on in that smoothed-out brain of yours. (jihyo has many questions, too many, and it has her silent in her place while she gapes at you.)

you play with the neckline of your sweater. “it’s getting pretty cold, huh.”

jihyo thinks you’re unbelievable.

“where have you been?” jihyo asks, walking up to you and pushing you playfully (fighting the urge to hold your and look at you with desire like in those cliché romance movies where the leads love interest shows up after being missing—or something like that at least. [park jihyo watches too many dramas]) she furrows her brows a little, looking at you with a tad of shock in her expression.

you tilt your head and ask, “why are you looking at me like that.”

“you’ve been gone for what, four days?” jihyo says, raising her brows. a couple people passing by glance in your direction when jihyo raises her voice, but she doesn’t care, that’s the last thing she cares about. “you haven’t called, texted, or even showed up to your own uncles workplace! you haven’t even-“ and jihyo cannot believe she’s about to say this: “you haven’t broken into my apartment or anything!”

a short silence fills the air before your eyes soften the same way they did before leaving jihyo at that venue—right after finishing up your business.

you let out a brief, soft sigh. “i’m sorry, it’s a lot.”

“yeah, it is.” jihyo huffs, losing the worry in her tone as relief fills in.

a grin plays at your lips, “i did say i would explain everything,” you start, “and i did say i’d take you out, and on me too…”

jihyo crosses her arms and mumbles, “you did.”

“that’s only if the detective would let me…?”

the weight on jihyo’s shoulders is completely knocked off and she chuckles at your response, quickly losing the serious façade.

“i have to drop this off at work, maybe i’ll let you once i do.”

you grin. “great.”

you end up as passenger princess in jihyo’s white, glossy bmw.

saying the car is nice would be a huge understatement. the interior is even more fascinating compared to the exterior, and that says a lot. the seats are clean, comfy, and from the texture, you can tell it’s authentic and expensive leather. the car is pretty spotless other than the water bottle in the cup holder and that reusable tote bag that seemed to have been thrown at the backseats blindly. the car smells fresh—something woody, minty, and there’s also a hint of apple—it’s welcoming and really fits the detective.

“comfy?” jihyo asks, turning on the engine.

“yeah.” you reply, feeling a little intimidated for no reason.

jihyo chuckles at you and shifts the stick, lightly steps on the gas, then looks at the screen in the car as she backs up. there should be no reason for this to be so attractive, i mean, you’ve seen many people back up a car, nothing special, but when jihyo does it you find yourself wanting her a little more.

the two of you end up at the department less than ten minutes later. despite how unbelievably close and flirty you’ve gotten with the detective; the whole car ride was way too intimate for your liking, and your nerves were a mess.

the car was so nice it had you feeling tense, jihyo was driving with such ease and looked so damn good with those sunglasses she had on. you felt small in the passenger seat. thankfully, you’re a few turns away from the department.

“i need to tell you something.” you say, making jihyo hum.

“what is it?”

“i can’t go into the department, i’m, well… i’ll tell you later but long story short my uncle cannot see me and i’m technically kind of on house arrest.”

“you’re what?”

“long story.”

the light turns red, the detective breaks smoothly then turns to look at you, curiosity and disbelief making her brows furrow.

“why am i not surprised that the chief would do something like that.” jihyo sighs, looking back at the stoplight—it’s green now. “he’s been on edge lately ever since the incident, he’s probably just anxious.”

you chuckle and shake your head, “he’s something…”

not too long later, the two of you find your way over at a café nearby and situate yourselves in the balcony area on the second floor.

jihyo holds a mint-colored latte cup in her hand that’s filled with a simple, hot mocha. she takes a sip and a bit of the steamed milk coats the top of her lips, she licks it off subtly. you smile before taking a sip of your own drink, some type of seasonal latte that has hints of apple and cinnamon.

“i missed you.” you say, looking down at the slightly distorted latte art in your cup. jihyo looks at you then smiles, a tint of pink dusting her cheeks as she turns her head to take in the view of the farmers markets nearby.

“me too.” she sighs, “i was… i haven’t been as tired lately, so i waited near my window for some spider to knock on it—she never came.”

you frown. “i wanted to. i’m always one to help people and try to not break the law, but i can’t help it when it’s you.” you respond jokingly.

jihyo smiles at your playfulness, happy to be spending time with one of the people she’s grown close with, as well as the hero she’s been secretly crushing and interacting with.

“can i ask how long you’ve been, you know…”

“couple months.” you reply, “remember how i told you about getting bit by the spider?” you ask, jihyo nods and you begin again, “i got bit a week after i moved here, and then i started sticking to things, accidentally broke my doorknob—oh! i was also watching this scary movie one time and got scared, after that i couldn’t see myself in the mirror.”

“that’s a lot.”

“yes, too much.”

“so… what happened with you and your uncle?” jihyo questions, wondering why she’s been spiderwoman-deficient for the past four days.

“oh yeah,” you respond, “well, he found out that i got hurt—not because i was y’know, doing my little hero thing—but he saw the blood and some of the injuries. he went on this tangent about me staying safe, he’s just been on edge and very protective. he doesn’t want me leaving the house. i’ve been working from home.”

“you couldn’t sneak out?”

“he had detectors, it took me a bit to mess with it. i took some engineering classes in high school and had some mischievous friends, so i ended up cheating the system.” you explain. jihyo nods, raising her brows at how capable you are; you’re quite impressive even if someone were to snatch your spider abilities away. “so, what’s been going on with you detective? fill me in.”

jihyo sighs, shaking her head softly.

“your uncle has been on edge, it’s strange.” she says, “usually these types of cases don’t phase him, but he’s shaken up.”

“maybe it was me trapping him in cobwebs—too much?”

the detective shakes her head again. “no, i don’t think so, but that was stupid on your end. he’s just been terribly paranoid; i’ve never seen him so tense.”

you furrow your brows and take another sip of your beverage before raising your brows as if you had an idea, “maybe it has something to do with the scientist?” you suggest, and you ponder before speaking again, “i remember my uncle having lunch with the scientist a couple months ago, he came back from the lunch all tense and a bit angry—even snapped at me for something. it was strange.”

jihyo’s expression lights up, “you’re on to something… that scientist did ask me to see the chief multiple times… and watanabe is clearly hiding something.”

“you think we should reunite them? maybe find out more of what’s between them?”

“it might be a good idea.” the detective mumbles, swirling remnants of her drink in the cup. you bite the inside of your lip and hum again,

“let’s try it, i can talk to the chief.”

“you’re on house arrest.”

“spiderwoman can do it then. she’s not on house arrest.”

jihyo’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and she looks at you like you’re crazy. “you’re insane.”

“maybe chief l/n will listen to me if i’m sweet with him.”

“he could body slam you to the ground.”

“maybe he could do that to y/n, but not spiderwoman.” you beam.

“no, maybe spiderwoman too.” jihyo shakes her head and simply sighs, “you’re actually the dumbest person i know.”

“you into that?”

the mask on your face is new, so is the suit (you were able to contact your suit designer via email and after seeing jihyo you got your much more durable suit—that is, after getting scolded by the fashion designer.)

you spot chief l/n in the office alone, it’s quite late anyway, a little past when you’d usually have dinner. your uncle examines a paper with furrowed brows and a pen in his large, aging hands. he looks pretty focused—you take it as your cue to invite yourself into his large office.

when the chief hears a small thud, he’s immediately on guard. he puts his hand over the gun strapped under his desk and scans the room: there’s no one, nothing, but he’s not convinced.

“i’m not fucking stupid.” he says coldly, “show yourself or you’re going to regret a lot.”

his voice is low, deep, and threatening. it’s worse than when he scolds you, much worse and you think you might be lucky that his most angry tone with you is less frightening than how he’s talking to you now.

you’re invisible, he can’t see you at all. the chief pulls out his gun from under the table and holds it with precision, aiming and scanning the room once more for any sign of someone. the gun in his hand is knocked out with a spiderweb and the chief halts, stiffening in his place.

you unveil yourself and the chief spots the familiar vigilante stuck to the ceiling, though that same vigilante who had terrorized him a couple days prior is wearing a new suit.

“hello chief.” you greet, making sure you alter your voice.

the tall, bulky man grimaces when you release yourself off of the wall and land on the floor of the room.

“spiderwoman.”

“nice to see you too.” you say, “i’m not going to hurt you or anything, i’m just uneasy around guns.”

“yeah, sure.” he scoffs, “you’re up to something.”

“god- no!” you groan, losing patience. the chief drops his stern demeanor for a second when you pinch the bridge of your nose, it almost convinces him that you’re just a simple human under that suit. “i’m trying to get more details on the lizard, and i need your help.”

“that lizard… he’s behind bars.”

“but that’s not it and you know it.”

“get out my damn office. i’m not afraid to fight you, i don’t care how many webs you trap me in.”

you sigh again, growing even more impatient. the chief glares at you when you do so.

“look—the people, the citizens, families and friends—they’re all in danger if you’re not competent,” you explain. your uncle drops his serious expression and his shoulders relax just barely.

“and i should just tell you why, huh? so you can do who knows what with this information? i’m not stupid.”

“you’re getting on my fucking nerves though and you’re being a prick that’s what you are.” you respond with irritation, and the tone of your retort reminds the chief of a certain someone he knows very well. “you think i saved that whole venue for shits and giggles? i left there with a broken rib and more bruises and cuts than i can count on one hand. i don’t know how many people i have to save or buildings i have to stop from collapsing to get you to understand that i’m not the fucking villain. look, watanabe is eery, there’s something i’m missing on this whole case because that damn scientist has been reluctant to give answers due to some tall ass man-baby of a chief that not only refuses to see the what, barely average height scientist, but the same chief who won’t fucking comply to this ‘vigilante’ because of his foggy little brain.”

the chief looks at you with surprise now, mouth slightly agape.

“i’m—i’m sorry?” he says with uncertainty. your uncle decides to swallow up his pride and prejudice, you sound like his niece and he starts to soften up. “fine. only if it helps.”

so rambling was the only thing that you needed to get him to comply? you’ve been wasting your time, too much time.

“why does watanabe want to see you.” you ask, observing the way your uncles eyes hesitantly avoid your gaze.

it’s quite strange seeing your uncle so sheepish looking, so submissive and not in the way he looks when your aunt scolds him for not eating, but he looks almost vulnerable.

“we-” he pauses and his shoulders drop just barely, “we used to work together. now that he’s behind bars i can’t compromise my position.”

“how does it compromise your position?”

“i’m a big guy, a big, bulky guy. watanabe and i used to be friends and… he asked for my dna samples and whatnot. look, i might’ve…” the chief sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i gave him some and i don’t know what he did with it, but now that he’s behind bars i think it’s something bad. i don’t know, i’ve never been a science freak.”

“okay so he has your dna, what are you looking so scared for?” you ask,

“i’m just wary… i don’t know what he can do with it—what he has done with it.”

you ponder for a bit and look at the anxious chief in front of you, who looks less intimidating than ever in front of you. why would watanabe need his dna?

“well, he’s behind bars, so no need to worry about anything for now yeah? i’ll investigate this myself.” you assure. you expect an inquiry, a response or something—but the chief simply nods and huffs.

“yeah alright.” he sighs. you shoot a thumbs up and hide yourself in transparency, that’s when you hear small—but noticeable in the silent ambience—words of gratitude. “thanks for taking a weight off my shoulders.”

you really have to stop breaking into jihyo’s home—well, it’s more of you jump scaring her and then her letting you in—so is it really a crime if there’s implied consent to enter?

jihyo opens the window for you and sighs, “i have a door you know.”

“too much work.”

“and swinging to the tenth floor of my apartment building is less work?”

“more exciting!” you beam, “and i like your little reaction, it’s cute.”

jihyo rolls her eye at your little remark and you climb in. she watches you pull off your mask and tuck some of your messy hair away, her eyes linger a little before she turns and walks back to her stove.

“whatcha cookin’?” you ask, sitting on the counter of the little kitchen island.

“avocado toast with eggs.” jihyo responds, not turning around.

“how healthy.”

“did you need something?” she asks, sliding the spatula under the eggs before flipping it over and cutting the heat.

“do you wanna break the law?” you ask. jihyo turns around and the expression plastered on her face screams:“are you dumb or stupid?”

“you’re seriously asking me this?”

“okay technically it’s not fully breaking the law,” you start, “just… doing something that might be an invasion of privacy.”

“that might be breaking the law, stupid.” jihyo snickers, smiling at the idiot in front of her.

you’re wearing something comfy yet professional looking: a pullover with a dress shirt under and some simple dress pants. the detective wonders if people saw you swinging around like that—the only thing masking your identity being the mask you had taken off, and without the mask jihyo can see you with the nerdy-looking glasses you put on earlier, and the smile plastered on your face. you’ve got a cute grin.

“you never said no.” you shrug.

“i’ll lose my job.”

“no you wont. just let me explain?” you plead. jihyo sighs, crossing her arms while leaning against the counter next to the stove; all of the detectives’ attention is on you now.

“thanks lovely.” you say, and the little remark makes jihyo’s cheeks flush just barely. “okay so i had a little talk with the chief last night, turns out watanabe has his dna and my uncle’s on edge because of that.”

“okay…”

“i work for the same company, meaning i have a keycard. that also means we can investigate a little more and find out what the hell he wanted to do with the chiefs dna.” you explain, “it’s technically your job to do all this investigating and if you think about it: i’m just a loyal citizen helping out the hottest detective in the force.”

jihyo uncrosses her arms and puts her hands on the counter gripping the edge. you watch the way her arm tenses and wow she’s toned. the detective looks down and shakes her head, smiling.

the shorter woman turns back around and pulls out a piece of bread from the toaster, then uses the spatula that rested on the plate to put an egg on the toast. she hands you the plate and you turn your head, but take it nonetheless.

“eat up, gotta have energy to ‘kinda’ break the law.”

your eyes light up and you almost gasp, “you’re going to do it?”

“you get me to do the craziest things.”

you smirk and respond, “and if i were a crazy thing?”

jihyo looks you in the eye and smiles. “i could put you on my to-do list then.”

you had offered to swing out her window with her, but jihyo denied, and you teased her the whole way down to the parking lot.

now you’re playing passenger princess (pt. 2) and watch jihyo shift out her parking space, which is a sight. there’s something enticing with her movements, the way she carries herself, and her confidence.

when you reach the building—the large, modern-looking building with a café that keeps your coffee addiction thriving—jihyo gazes for a bit, clearly impressed.

“never been here?”

“no, i have, just never had time to fully take in everything.” she says, “it’s very nice.”

you smile and open the door for her, she rolls her eyes and walks in—you follow behind.

there are a few familiar faces in the building, some people rushing around and others conversing—it could be mistaken as a lobby at some college, jihyo looks around and is taken aback by the lively atmosphere.

“there you are, where have you been?” a recognizable voice scoffs. you turn to your left and see nayeon, smiling cheekily as she walks towards you and jihyo. you roll your eyes playfully and scoff playfully,

“been avoiding you.” you respond jokingly, and nayeon just laughs.

“who’s this? your girlfriend? been skipping work to be with her or what?” nayeon asks. her inquiry takes both you and jihyo by surprise, making both of you blush.

words stick to the tip of your tongue for a moment and jihyo puts out her hand for nayeon while you compose yourself. “detective park.” she introduces.

nayeon raises her brows and shakes her hand, then looks at you with a quirked brow and the look in her eyes seem to convey an “ooh~” before she responds to jihyo. “im nayeon.”

you clear your throat after they shake hands, “it’s nice to see you again i guess.” you say to nayeon, “but i have to go up and grab something, i’ll see you.”

“yeah yeah, see you. i was on my way out anyway—don’t blow up anything.” she sighs, and you scoff playfully. the two of you smile at each other mischievously before nayeon heads out the doors.

jihyo laughs and you raise a brow, watching her as she shakes her head.

“got all flustered from her asking if i was your girlfriend? what happened to the confidence from before?”

“shut up.” you respond, “let’s just go.”

jihyo laughs as you walk towards the elevators—she can’t see you, but she knows you’re blushing like an idiot.

the two of you reach the 7th floor and jihyo follows you out the elevator.

as you and jihyo make your way down the dimly lit corridor, a sense of anticipation fills the air. the tension is palpable as you approach the lab room. fumbling in your pocket, you retrieve a keycard, silently emphasizing the need for caution as you unlock the door. "stay by my side and stay quiet. we're not supposed to be here," you mumble, voice low and careful.

entering the room, you both are immediately struck by its sheer size. you’ve been here once with another scientist from the company, though only for a brief moment to retrieve information for your article. it's not just a regular room; it's an enormous space dedicated to housing the scientists' most precious possessions—their files, research, and invaluable data.

as your gaze scans the shelves, your heart skips a beat before settling on the section that holds the coveted information you seek. the lights are dim, making it difficult to distinguish one folder from another, but thankfully you’re spiderwoman; your senses are already much more advanced than any person.

with each folder you come across, you murmur the words written on their labels. jihyo watches you intently, captivated by your unwavering focus. there's a certain charm in the way you immerse yourself in the task at hand, it's adorable and there's an undeniable allure to your commitment that draws her in.

“they’re all in alphabetical order… t… u… v… hmmm—ah! w!” you beam. you snatch the folder that reads “watanabe.” a contagious smile dances across your lips, your elation mirrored by jihyo.

“is that what we need?” jihyo asks, turning her head.

“yeah, this is one of the more important files, it has a lot of his research and experiments. i’m also going to look for-“

before you can finish your sentence, an unwelcome intrusion slices through the air, mingling with the palpable fear creeping into your senses when you hear the low tap of footsteps outside the room.

the threat of being caught floods your mind, driving you into spontaneous action. quickly, you take jihyo’s wrist, urgency pulsating through your grip, and scan the room frantically. from the corner of your eye, a small closet appears. you bolt toward it and drag jihyo with you, then close yourselves inside.

you’re in your head trying to listen to the sound coming from the corridor that you don’t realize the compromising position you’re in.

silent seconds stretch while you two stay cautious and awareness dawns upon you, and your breath halts. one hand is unintendedly situated on the curve of jihyo’s slender waist and the other still grips her wrist. her back is pressed against the closet door, and your senses collide with her proximity, faces and bodies inches apart.

(with how quiet it is in the room, you wonder if whoever was lurking would catch you just from the pounding of your heart.)

you loosen your grip on her wrist and whisper, “sorry.”

“you’ve got a good grip.” jihyo mumbles, “and it’s okay.”

the air hangs heavy, thick with tension. you glance downwards and you’re captivated by the intensity in jihyo's eyes—intimidating and enticing even in the darkened room—and an irrepressible impulse surges within you.

jihyo lets out a shallow breath and peeks at your lips, you take a quick glance at hers before you two gape into each other’s eyes again.

now it’s jihyo’s turn to hold your wrist, and without conscious thought, your heart pounding an adrenaline-fueled rhythm, you lean forward, closing the remaining distance until your lips press against hers.

it’s soft and tender at first, then warm and thrilling. you pull away for a brief moment to utter and apology, which is muffled after jihyo crashes her lips back to you with a doubled intensity. you hum in response and she pulls you closer, making you lean down to match her height.

in the muffled silence of the closet, time becomes a mere afterthought, eclipsed by the pulsating intensity that engulfs you both. the world outside fades into oblivion as your lips meet again and again after parting to tilt your heads in the other direction after a few kisses, and after a couple more you’re changing kissing angles again.

jihyo’s hands trace over your chest, then to your shoulders and at last: your neck. she grips at your hair, tugs and pulls while simultaneously leading the kiss—she’s naturally one to take control. she swipes her tongue against your lip and you let her tongue explore your mouth, earning various hums and small groans.

you pull away to catch your breath and jihyo stops you before you can kiss her again, placing her hand on your chest and adding pressure to it to restrain your eagerness.

“sorry,” you say, cheeks flushed and breath heavy. “too much?”

jihyo laughs softly and shakes her head before responding, “not at all, y/n. it’s just, we should be careful… don’t want you to be too loud—yet. let’s continue later.” your cheeks flush from her remark and jihyo laughs lowly after hearing your breath quiver. “do you think whoever was walking is gone?”

“i- um, i’ll have to listen closer.” you mutter.

jihyo’s hand still rests on your chest, right above your heart—which is beating at an unhealthy pace—and jihyo doesn’t comment on the noticeable pounding against her palm. you pause for a moment and really concentrate your sense of hearing, listening on anything going on outside. jihyo lets you work your magic and smiles when you hum.

“no one outside, it’s clear. i’ll turn invisible and you know, check it out. i’ll let you know if you can come out; when i knock three times then that’s your cue to leave the closet, yeah?” you explain.

jihyo nods and says, “sounds good spiderwoman.” which earns a small chuckle from you. some light seeps in when you open the door, letting jihyo have a glimpse of your face: cheeks tinted pink, your ears are a darker shade, and the smirk on your face is smug.

you plant a kiss on her incredibly soft lips before disappearing from her sight, and jihyo hears a small “cute,” before the door closes. she’s left in the dark closet alone with a warm feeling in her chest—though it’s soon replaced with the realization:

oh my god… i just made out with my boss’s niece.

when you and jihyo reach the floor of the lobby, you two act like you haven’t just violated the privacy of a (now criminal) scientist.

there are two folders, a binder, and some samples from who knows what that were hastily placed inside your bag when you first got into the elevator. the two of you head towards jihyo's car, acting as if nothing has happened, despite having committed something slightly very illegal.

the detective closes her doors and you mirror her action once you sit down, and as you both put on your seatbelts jihyo scoffs, “i can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“it’s for my uncle, and you know, just in case.” you assure, looking at her as she grips the steering wheel a little tight. “in the end i think he’ll be grateful, and it’ll help with the case.”

“i know.” jihyo says, “he can be scary.”

“i’ll take care of him, okay?”

“okay.” she responds before shooting you a small smile, which makes you smile back in return.

when you reach jihyo’s apartment, you take off your jacket and hang it on the hooks on the wall. jihyo does the same with her own jacket and you meet at her kitchen island.

you take out the stolen goods from your back and drop them on the marble counter, jihyo turns on the lamp above to make it easier to read and see. jihyo stands across from you as you take out each file and skim through them, watching your eyebrows crinkle from concentration.

four pieces of paper are taken out of one of the binders—three of them being stapled together—and you quickly read through them. then, you place them on the counter, and your eyes scan the title of a sample before laying it next to the papers.

“this is it.” you sigh, looking down at the messy tapestry of notes and diagrams.

jihyo tilts her head and questions, “what?”

“my uncle’s dna. there’s notes on it and everything, it’s all scribbled here—look.” you respond, flipping the paper over and pushing it towards the detective. jihyo’s eyebrows reflect yours and furrow as she reads the text. her shoulders relax and she turns the paper over to read more, eye’s widening a little as she reads.

you pick up the sample and examine it a bit more as jihyo reads through. she looks back at you and says in disbelief, “watanabe tried to make human lizards?”

“pretty much.” you reply, “my uncle’s a big, bulky guy… watanabe probably tried to fuck with the lizard dna and his genes to make something relatively close—but thankfully, it didn’t work. here, this paper shows the trials and whatnot.” you add, handing jihyo the non-stapled paper.

jihyo sets the small packet down and reads through the one handed to her, examining the various angrily crossed-out sentences, numbers, and notes. she hums at the sight.

“so there’s nothing to worry about?” the detective asks. you nod and respond,

“no, thankfully. i’ll probably show up as spiderwoman and leave a little note to the chief, i should probably get to that soon—tonight.” you admit, leaning against the counter. “i’ll leave you alone for now, sorry for making you do all of this.”

you don’t want to leave, that’s the last thing you want to do. the small silence after you utter your last sentence urges you to pack up and leave, even if the thought of continuing whatever happened in your closet flooded your mind.

“wait,” jihyo says as you start to trudge away towards the window, and you pause in your place as soon as you take a step on the carpet on the floor.

you raise a brow in confusion (hoping jihyo read your mind). “yes?”

“just stay, the sun is already setting.” she says boldly.

“my uncle would kill me, i’m on house arrest.” you sigh, “getting these to him as spiderwoman would get me off house arrest.”

jihyo frowns and you mirror her expression. “you really can’t stay?” she asks, brows creasing just barely.

“i would if i could.”

“well,” jihyo starts, walking over to you. “before you jump out the window,” she mumbles, now one step away from you. she places her hand on your chest and looks at you with a warm softness in her eyes. she tilts her head, then leans up to press her lips against yours, less aggressive than in the closet, but just as nerve-racking—making your heart beat quicken just from the simple contact.

you practically melt when she kisses you, and your hands instinctively reach for her cheek, cupping it gently. time seems to hesitate when she puts her arms around your neck, and you make sure to savor the taste and feel of her lips on yours.

jihyo pulls away first, but only a little so your lips still brush against each other.

“jihyo…” you mutter, and you can feel her smiling against you—her grin spreads to your own lips.

“if you’re off house arrest tomorrow… we should—”

“yes, please.” you say, “anything you want.”

“didn’t know a kiss was enough to have you so eager.” jihyo snickers gently.

you smirk and press a quick peck. “oh i can be eager—if that’s what you want?”

jihyo rolls her eyes at your stupid (yet tempting) response and pulls away so she can see your face clearly. she gazes at you for a bit, simple appreciating your presence and the faint dimple that appears on your cheek as you smile at her. jihyo fixes your hair, pushing away strands that fall over your face.

“you’re an idiot.”

“you love that though.”

“a lot.” jihyo responds, then presses a kiss to your cheek and smiles. “now go get yourself off house arrest.”

you grin. “yes detective.”

the chief stands at his desk and puts on his coat, then gathers all the papers he had already gone through in his bag. on his desk, a folder suddenly drops down with a smack and the chief jumps, letting out a small yelp.

“hi chief.” a voice says. the chief looks up and he watches the familiar vigilante become translucent, then fully visible after unveiling herself. spiderwoman releases herself from the ceiling and lands on the ground with ease. “gotcha’ some things you’d probably love to look through.”

“what the hell spidergirl—”

“please, i know i’m supposed to mask my identity, but spiderwoman is better. c’mon man, i’m in my twenties.” you groan. the chief looks at you and shakes his head, then picks up the folder that had scared him half to death earlier.

your uncle furrows his brows slightly as he reads the papers (same as jihyo did, you note. at this point everything is reminding you of her—even the bulky man in front of you).

“where— where did you get this? how—”

“told you i’d check it out. nothing to worry about chief, just wanted to ease your worries.” you shrug, “i told you i’m not the bad guy.”

the chief examines you for a moment, looking you up and down before his shoulders drop. he puts the papers back in the folder and stares at it for a couple seconds, exhaling in relief.

“thank you.” he says, “i was… really on edge.”

“anytime.” you say, smiling from under the mask. the chief walks up to you, looking down and narrowing his eyes before softening his gaze. he puts his hand out and you look at it in surprise—as well as confusion.

“let’s keep contact, spiderwoman.” the chief says, “maybe you’re not so bad.” he adds. you hesitate for a moment and stare at his hand for a moment longer before shaking it. the chief doesn’t break your hand, doesn’t pull you in and throw you to the ground—he shakes it professionally and nods. “you’ve earned my trust.”

you want to lift your mask up and show him your proud smile, and a part of you wants to reveal yourself.

“i’m glad. i’m just your friendly neighborhood spiderwoman after all, harmless!” you beam.

“that’s debatable. i saw what you did to that monster.” he responds. you catch the faint twitch of his lips: an almost smile.

“how else could i save everyone?”

“i guess you’re right, get going kid, sun is setting.”

“i told you i’m in my twenties!”

“you really remind me of someone i know spiderwoman.” he says with a breath of amusement, “have a good night, thank you again.” he finally adds before grabbing his bag. the chief walks past spiderwoman without body-slamming her or anything like that; the tall, hefty man simply walks out and leaves spiderwoman speechless.

that’s all it took to get on his good side?

jihyo walks into the building and the routine is the same as always: she greets the front desk lady—rachel was her name, she’s sweet and always has a smile on for anyone talking to her. after her usual friendly greeting, jihyo walks over to her desk and greets the rest of the team.

as jihyo sets her bag down, a familiar face appears and greets the detective.

“hello park, morning.” francis beams, smiling softly at jihyo. francis was one of the newer cops, he was pretty young for one—but great at his job. jihyo was quite fond of him, he was nice and competent.

“morning, how are you?”

“good, good.” he says before yawning, “glad it’s friday.”

“me too.” jihyo responds with a laugh, taking out a few reports from her bag and turning on the computer in front of her.

the detective turns back to the monitor in front of her and gets to typing, looking down at the paper and back up to the screen as she types various letters, numbers, and who knows what at this point.

her mind is completely foggy, she tries to get some work done, tries to copy down the reports and examine them. the only thing she can really focus on is the memory of your lips on hers, and whether you’re off house arrest because she really needs a continuation of what happened in that damn closet.

jihyo flinches at the sudden sound of the voice she’s been missing most and looks down at her desk to see a 16oz paper coffee cup on her desk.

“morning detective.”

“jesus!” jihyo yelps, “don’t do that!”

“i thought you’d get used to it by now.” you snicker. jihyo smiles as you pull a chair up next to her and sit down, sipping on your own beverage. “i’m off house arrest.”

“i can see that.” jihyo sighs, though the tone of her voice doesn’t match the way her heart warms upon your arrival. “shouldn’t you be at work?”

“technically it’s an internship,” you respond, “but i guess it’s my job now, seeing they pay me more than some of the actual employees.”

“well whatever it is you should probably be at the building, no?”

“i have work in less than forty minutes. do you hate my presence that much?” you question, a pout forming. “didn’t hate it that much yesterday—"

the detective punches your shoulder and you wince playfully before jihyo rolls her eyes and takes a sip of the coffee you brought her. “you’re loud, too loud for someone who’s my boss’s blood relative.” she scolds you lowly and sets down the beverage before redirecting her attention back to the screen. “and no, i don’t hate your presence, just don’t want you slacking or getting scolded.” she admits, a smile threatening to form on her lips.

you laugh and gaze at her for a moment, taking in the slope of her nose and catching a glimpse of the small mole on the tip of it. your eyes trace the sharp curve of her jaw, and then your look sets on her lips—the taste and feel lingers in your mind. jihyo pretends to ignore your blatant stare.

“i’ll stop bothering you for a bit, should probably get going anyway and let my favorite detective get to work.” you mumble. jihyo turns as you begin to stand up and furrows her brows. she looks to around quickly and grabs your wrist, making you turn and hum in confusion.

“wait,” she starts, trying to keep you close to her for just a while more, “i just printed something, you should come with me before you go.” you smile at her suggestion and set your coffee down on her desk, then nod.

the walk to the printing room is quite silent, nothing is said or heard other than the click of jihyo’s boots reverberating. when you get to the small room, a man walks out and smiles at jihyo before holding the door for the two of you. the detective smiles back before going in, with you trailing behind.

jihyo goes to the screen of the printer and taps at a few buttons, then sighs, “out of paper, come with me to get some.”

“yes ma’am.”

the paper and supplies room are two rooms down from the printing area, and so the two of you walk down the hall then into the room.

jihyo opens the door and you enter first—what catches you completely off guard is the way your senses are quickly overwhelmed.

without warning, your back is pushed against the closed door and you’re immobilized by jihyo’s body pressing against you. before you can comprehend what’s happening, her warm, soft lips press against yours with a slight aggression and it makes you groan immediately.

your hands find their way to her waist, the other on her upper rib to push her closer into you—craving the warmth and feeling it gives you.

something about making out in a dimmed, small room feels right to the two of you; you’ve made out twice so far and both times have been in relatively similar spaces. this won’t be the last time you make out in a small space.

jihyo pulls away and your brain is hazy, you immediately move yourself closer to capture her lips again.

“fuck,” you sigh in between kisses, “what’s with the sudden—” you get cut off with another harsh kiss, making you groan louder into her mouth. jihyo’s tongue finds its way into your mouth and your hands find their way to her skin, and it makes her shiver from the contact.

every nerve in jihyo’s body wakes as soon as your lips come into contact with her neck, and she stifles a groan when you start to nip at it.

“no marks, not now.” she says dissapointingly.

“later?”

“maybe.” she says, and immediately, a sharp breath leaves her lips when you add a bit of pressure on her waist, squeezing it gently.

a sudden shift in the atmosphere tingles your senses, making your lips detach and actions halt. you shiver at the feeling, instantly pulling away from jihyo and trying to compose yourself.

“someone’s coming, act busy.” you mutter quickly before turning on the light and pretending to busy yourself by reaching for papers on the shelf.

the door opens and you almost flinch at the familiar voice that greets the two of you.

“y/n? jihyo? what are you two doing here?” the chief asks. both you and jihyo stiffen at the sound of who had almost walked in on you. jihyo clears her throat abruptly.

“ah, l/n. i was printing something out and y/n decided to help me out.”

the chief chuckles, “y/n, when do you have to clock in?”

“thirty minutes, figured i’d waste a bit of time with park.” you shrug, “i always make it on time.”

the chief laughs and jihyo tenses her jaw slightly as she smiles at him, fixing her hair and jacket she has on. “well,” the chief starts, “grab me some sticky notes while you’re over there, i’ll let you two converse.” he adds. you nod and grab a stack of pink sticky notes—his favorite color—and toss them at him.

“there you go old man.” you tease.

“watch it,” he says playfully, “and are you sick? your cheeks are so pink.”

again, you and jihyo tense up—you clear your throat before responding, “there’s dust here, i sneezed and rubbed my face too hard.” you lie, almost stumbling over your words when you glance at jihyo.

the chief nods and sighs, “well, don’t get my detective sick.” and with that he exits the room, shutting the door harshly (he’s oblivious to his strength at times), which lets you and jihyo sigh out in relief.

“we need to get a room.” you groan,

“yeah.” jihyo laughs, “are you free tonight?” she asks, and it makes you look at her in surprise, cheeks warming up once again.

“only if you are—and if no one tries to rob a bank.”

jihyo laughs and responds, “i am, and i might just have a room.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jihyo says, smirking. “if it means anything, my window will be unlocked if someone wants to swing by.”

“hmmm, i’ll keep that in mind.”

jihyo’s jaw tenses and she looks at you in a way that fills your nerves with temptation. “good. now let’s print these out, i need to hand them to the forensics.”

jihyo hums along to a tune playing from her phone as she wipes down the counter next to the stove—it’s a slow melody, something fitting for the dimmed room and quiet night.

she hasn’t seen you in a few hours—though it seems like decades—so she’s cleaning up and wandering around to pass the time.

when she finishes cleaning her countertops she walks over to the sink to wash her hands, still humming along to the melody that fills the room with a soft ambiance. jihyo turns off the sink and the unexpected feeling of two large hands on her waist makes her shriek and turn around quickly.

she calms down when she’s met with your grin, but her irritation quickly replaces the relief and she punches your rib lightly; you wince at the feeling dramatically, clutching your side and pouting.

“hey! what was that for?” you groan, and it makes detective park smile.

jihyo crosses her arms and leans against the counter. “you’re going to kill me one day y/n.”

“aw, am i making your heart beat that fast?”

she punches your shoulder again and says, “oh shut up.” you grin at her cheekily.

jihyo takes a moment to examine you and somehow you’re cuter everytime she sees you. you’re wearing some comfy looking navy sweatshirt paired with black sweatpants, how adorable.

the mood in the air shifts when you run your eyes up and down jihyo, and she seems to have gained some of her own powers from the way she reads your mind. you lick your lips swiftly and smirk—it’s not a big one, but the slight curve of one side of your lips is noticeable.

“i told my uncle i’d be staying with a friend for the night,” you explain, and the tempting look in your eyes is replaced by curiosity with a hint of wonder. “i brought some drinks, got a sweet tooth?”

“i can’t pass down drinks from you.”

“you like strawberry soda?” you ask—jihyo hums. “good. i um— thought… maybe we could watch a movie—or just talk? i don’t know honestly, i’ve just been wanting to see you.” you admit, “i realized we haven’t really had time to you know, go on a date and just hang out without any of it being work or crime related… i wanted to be with you.”

jihyo laughs and she feels her heart thud against her chest. “you’re cute.”

“thanks, but you’re cuter,” you reply, which makes jihyo blush and she tries to hide it by walking over to her living room area. you follow behind and she sits down on her couch, patting down a space for you.

“didn’t know spiderwoman was so romantic.”

“hey hey… spiderwoman is a lot of things.” you huff.

you and detective park—no, just jihyo, sweet, genuine, and crazily pretty jihyo—talk for an hour. it starts off with you explaining that you earned the chiefs trust, then it goes on to complaining about said chief, nothing too new though laughs are shared. jihyo complains about her job and the paperwork that’s been piling on her desk and you complain about your side hustle; jihyo is attentive, listening to you ramble about your spiderwoman story of the recent (and very pretentious) group of high school boys who tried to rob a gas station.

talking with jihyo feels easy, it’s not like you have to force yourself or exaggerate anything; conversing with jihyo feels right.

the whole hour of you two simply sharing sodas and drinks leads to scooting closer, shoulders touching and heads leaned back against the top of the touch.

when silence floods for a bit after you share another anecdote, jihyo takes this time to blatantly admire your face—keeping her look on your lips for a couple seconds longer than the other features.

it’s you who closes the distance this time, no words need to be exchanged when you finally do what the both of you have wanted to do: simply lock lips.

“fuck i missed this,”

jihyo smiles when she pulls away. “it’s been a couple hours, y/n.”

“one minute is already too long.” you mumble before kissing her again.

this time your kiss is slow and soft, not the same crashing of hungry lips against each other, it’s soft, sweet, and you two take your time since there’s no risk of being caught. no rush at all.

in contrast to your previous (rushed, aggressive, and heated) kisses, you both take your time to really appreciate each other’s intimacy.

the new comfort and absent feeling of cautiousness lets you savor the feeling of jihyo’s lips on yours: warm, soothing, and everything you didn’t know you needed. you taste the faint hint of strawberry off her while she cups your face, sliding her fingers to the back of your neck and rubbing her thumb against your skin.

a few minutes (you guess it’s been a few minutes, cant be that long, no? it’s been thirty minutes) pass and the two of you have your hands roaming around, the kisses get needier by the second.

hunger hurriedly takes over and you’re practically eating other’s mouths in no time. despite the change in pace and intimacy, you’re perfectly fine with it; if anything, it’s perfect how it escalated from a simple sweet kiss to whatever is making your cunt throb.

you blindly shift yourselves and jihyo backs up to lay down comfortably on the cushions of the couch. one thing you that made your breath uneasy was the way jihyo tangled her fingers in your hair, especially the way she tugged at it occasionally. her hand rested on your neck at first, then she moved it down to your waist and slid her nimble fingers under your sweatshirt, making contact with your skin. you whimpered unintentionally at the sudden contact, which was not only amusing—but also incredibly alluring to jihyo.

“you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you?” she mumbles, pushing a strand of your hair out of your face. “i think it’s cute how you’re on top of me, but you seem much more shaken up.”

you try to respond to jihyo, but a lump forms in your throat when she pulls back a little more and looks at you like you’re the cutest thing in the world. jihyo slides her hands further up near the middle of your ribs, making your breath hitch.

“didn’t know you’d be this easy to rile up spiderwoman.”

before you can try to respond, she closes the gap you groan into her mouth. with a swift press of her fingers against your skin, you part your lips for her to explore your mouth, then push yourself closer to her. her touch sends a shiver down your spine and the way her tongue takes over in your mouth drives you fucking crazy.

she makes her way down to your neck with soft kisses serving as a trail, then nips at your skin softly, eliciting a soft, breathy “fuck” from you.

jihyo pulls away and you whine. she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and looks into your eyes before mumbling, “you’re cute.”

you smile and your lips meet again, you pull away to murmur against her lips softly, “bedroom?” and jihyo hums in agreement.

the two of you get up from the couch, but your lips are almost unable to part from one another for more than five seconds. you bump into the walls clumsily, which makes you two laugh even as you groan into each other’s mouths—it’s all so heartwarming and cute—and soon you manage to make it to jihyo’s room.

now it’s jihyo’s turn to press you against the door again. you curse lowly as she marks up your neck again and try to feel for the light switch against the wall; you manage to light up the room despite your eyes closing from the overwhelming feeling of jihyo’s skilled lips.

she pulls away for a second and asks, “are you sure you want to-“

“fuck yes, please.” you answer immediately, then cut her off with a hungry kiss that leaves her stumbling back. you kiss her needily and fumble with the edge of her shirt before slipping it off, and when you pull away to gaze at her body you let out a breath of amazement.

jihyo laughs. “you kept teasing me about how i could undress you, but look who’s so eager to have me naked.” she asks, catching you staring at her in awe. you part your lips at the sight of her tremendously toned core and she snickers. “you like what you see?”

“love what i see,” you sigh, “shit, you’re beautiful.”

“let me help you out, i wanna see what’s under there again.”

with a swift movement, she slips off your sweatshirt and you’re both standing close to each other topless.

you were confident enough with your words and jihyo seeing your skin when you had that mask on, but now that it’s just you; you feel a little shy now that you’re a bit revealed in front of jihyo—despite still having a bra on—and you avoid eye contact.

her eyes soften. “you’re so pretty.” she sighs, then kisses you swiftly and sweetly.

the detective is a natural leader, and it’s showing now. she guides you to the bed while exploring the curves and grooves of your body, then she’s straddling you on her queen sized bed.

you pull away and jihyo looks at your dilated pupils—completely taking over your eyes.

“can i— can i take your bra off?”

“of course.” jihyo responds.

your fingers work to unclasp jihyo’s bra and holy shit you’re stunned. your eyes widen and you exhale in amazement.

as embarrassing as it is to admit, you’ve fantasized at the ungodly hours of the night and also during those boring moments at work about seeing jihyo like this. you thought you’d be fine in a situation like this seeing you’ve daydreamed about it—but fuck it’s better than anything you can imagine now that it’s really happening. you pause in your place, halting any action.

“cat got your tongue?”

“i— fuck you’re so pretty jihyo.” you sigh, “can i touch you?”

“of course,” and right after her approval your hand slides up from her waist to her chest.

the way she gasps as you brush your fingers over her nipple is music to your ears, and it does not help the way your cunt throbs. something about the way she groans roughly when you pinch her bud slightly makes you groan in response, muttering a small “holy shit” in response.

you press a chaste kiss on her breast and trail down with your tongue to swirl around the peak of her breast, taking note of what kind of action makes her breath shake the most. the only thing you want to do right now is make her feel good, make her feel the same as you.

“your tits are so fucking nice,” you say, and jihyo lets out a sound that’s a mix of a laugh and a moan.

a couple minutes pass of you shamelessly indulging in jihyo’s tits (something that you could get used to—something that you need to do often) and your lips find their way back to each other. then, jihyo pulls away and she look at you with lidded eyes.

“can i—”

“please,” you interject, “please.”

“whatever you’d like,” jihyo says amusingly, “let me take care of you. i’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

you nod eagerly and she unclasps your own bra, biting her lip at the new territory revealed. she mutters a compliment and you simply whimper at her words. needless to say, your reactions have jihyo surprised and invested.

she works at your tits for a while, leaving a couple marks in between, under, and on them. you grip at her bedsheets and arch your back at the way she swirls her tongue skillfully around your sensitive areas, you’re practically drowning in bliss and she hasn’t even touched you where you need it most yet.

her lips leave a trail of pecks on your body as she lowers down, and when she reaches your soft tummy her hands tug your pants down.

“hyo, p—please…” you groan, “please touch me.”

jihyo hums and she presses a finger against your underwear, it makes your hips twitch.

she kisses your inner thighs and leaves you breathless, your eyes shut as you press against the mattress. she pulls away and slides your underwear off, tossing it aside carelessly and biting her lip when she meets your core.

a soft peck is pressed on your clit and you let out a stifled moan. gently, she slides her fingers along your walls. she smiles at how aroused you are, feeling the slick that dampens her fingers.

“god, you’re so wet y/n.”

“shut—shut up.”

“excited aren’t you?” she teases, “i like this side of you more than spiderwoman to be honest.”

before you can respond, she latches her mouth onto your pussy and the surge of pleasure makes you groan so loud that it even takes you by surprise. you bite your lip the more she lashes at your dripping center, sucking, slicking, and savoring the sweet slick that seeps out.

your hand immediately reaches for her hair the more she indulges in your pussy, and she groans against you.

you’re not sure how long it’s been since she went down on you, but you’re feeling that knot forming in your stomach the more she tongue fucks you and the more you whine. you’re completely lost in pleasure; a few points of contact from her nose to your clit and tongue to your walls and you’re sent over the edge.

a hoarse, strangled sound between a cry and a moan is heard from you, jihyo continues to savor your sweetness. you push your head back into the mattress and jihyo trails back up to you with kisses.

“holy shit,” you say breathless, jihyo grins while you recover.

“how was it?”

“i— think you know the answer.” you sigh as you prop yourself on your elbows. “i’ve um, i’ve thought about you like this before and— this is better than anything i’ve ever imagined.”

jihyo chuckles and you cup her cheek, then kiss her fervently. she hums into the kiss and you pull away, stroking her cheek with your thumb.

seeing as you’re spiderwoman, you’re naturally quick to recover. your hand moves back to her breast and you brush your finger over her nipple, earning a sharp breath from her.

“my turn to make you feel good.”

with a swift motion, you flip jihyo over and pin her down on the bed. she gasps at the sudden change, and before she has time to process much—you’re already occupied with her boobs.

blindly, you slider her pants and panties off with a quick motion and slide your hands up and down her legs. jihyo’s moans are on the louder side, and they’re strangled too.

you’re so eager to hear her come undone, so eager to leave her a mess. with thumb her clit once, then twice, and then stick your fingers inside—which has jihyo’s nails grasping at your shoulder and her breath shaking.

the more you pump in and out, the closer she is to breaking. you savor each and every moan that reverberates against the walls in her room, making sure the target the spots that make her curse louder than ever. her hands uncontrollably grip at your tricep, then your shoulder, and soon she’s gripping your hair, which has you groaning against her chest shamelessly while you mark it up.

“y-y/n, oh— i’m close, i-i’m— keep going,"

with the overwhelming sensation of your tongue swirling around her nipple and the way your thumb presses against her clit—she’s breathing heavily, shaking, and soon enough she’s trembling after a loud yelp. she mutters a string of curses and does what you had done before, sinking into the mattress and once you pull away from her chest to gaze at her; she pulls you in for a messy, sensual kiss.

the two of you stay like that for a while, kissing tiredly and sloppily before you fall over beside her on the bed.

“god, y/n…”

“did you like it?” you ask. the smug smirk on your lips makes jihyo sigh amusingly and she shakes her head playfully.

“of course i did.”

“we should…” you begin, “do this more often—if you’re fine with that.”

jihyo laughs and you lay your head on her chest.

“i’m more than fine with it, spiderwoman.”

when jihyo wakes up, she feels an extra warmth on the left side of her body.

she looks down and looks at the face squished in her chest which makes her smile immediately. you’re breathing gently and one arm is draped across her body, loosely resting above her waist.

“like my boobs that much?” she chuckles softly, tracing her finger along your soft skin. you grumble into her and sigh, waking up to the low sound of her voice.

you blink three times—though the first two times were slow and lazy—then shift closer into her. your hand presses her against you more, and you tangle your leg with hers before mumbling, “morning.”

she laughs at the lower tone of your morning voice and kisses your forehead. “good morning y/n.”

after rubbing your face against her shoulder, you push yourself up and prop yourself up on one elbow. jihyo laughs at your squinted, tired eyes before you tickle her with kisses on her jaw and neck.

“jihyo,” you begin—she hums in response. “do you think we rushed this?” you ask, referring to whatever relationship you two have now as you slide your along the skin over her ribs.

“hm, i don’t think so. you’ve already been saying a lot of suggestive things prior to this.”

“you liked it though.”

“maybe.” jihyo says, rolling her eyes. you drop back down onto the bed and return to nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, kissing it once before closing your eyes again. “y/n,” jihyo says again, this time with a tone that makes you open your eyes again.

“yes?”

“what would your uncle say if… if he knew his detective slept with his niece?”

now your eyes widen and your body tenses. “shit.” you groan. jihyo laughs and you sit up quickly. “how bad did you mark me?”

“let’s hope there’s a store nearby that has concealer in your shade y/n.”

#twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #miinatozakiii #jihyo x reader #twice jihyo #park jihyo #jihyo imagines #twice #jihyo

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fatuismooches · 8 months

Note

Hello! If your requests are open, may I request Akademiya Dottore and Reader where the reader helped design his hair? Like, cut his hair and get him to have the curtain bangs and mullet he has now? I apologize if this is confusing.

Being Zandik’s lover in the Akademiya also meant being a dutiful roommate and his part-time caretaker, because if it weren’t for you, there would be many more occurrences where he skipped meals and lost dozens of hours of sleep. Let’s just say, you were a very persistent person when it came to your boyfriend’s health.

At the very least, he did keep himself presentable. But once he came to terms that you were genuinely trying to help, he left the buying of products like lotion, soap, and shampoo to you, so he wouldn’t have to leave the dorm to purchase such items. This was actually a good thing because you could make him smell however you wanted! Though you don’t want to think about the time you found out he used a 9 in 1 shampoo. (It was banned from the dorm immediately.)

One of the other things you did for Zandik was cutting his hair. Many of his haircuts were done by you, he found it convenient since he could continue to read while you snipped-snipped his locks away. You normally kept it short, so it wouldn’t get in the way of whatever illegal or legal things he wanted to do. But this time, you wondered how long his hair could grow if you didn’t intervene.

And oh, did it grow.

His blue hair was now a little bit past his shoulders, fluffy and curly thanks to your brushing. (The first few times, he had chased you away, but gave in when he found out he liked the feeling of his hair being combed.) Zandik didn’t bother questioning why you let his hair reach this length, he didn’t care much about his appearance unless it was bothering him personally. Until now.

“[Name], give me a haircut,” Zandik’s annoyed voice broke the silence of the room, his notes lying abandoned on the desk as he gave you a vexed look, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. You giggled, pushing away your homework that was definitely due the next day in favor of your lover.

“Oh? You’re not enjoying the long hair anymore?”

“It’s grown to be inconvenient,” he muttered. “It’s so long, sometimes blood gets matted in it.” You had to hold back a snicker at that complaint. As to why Zandik simply didn’t tie it up, well, for some reason, he doesn’t like doing that. Oh, but you do wonder how he managed to get blood in his hair. Usually, he’s more careful than that with his subjects. Guess it was indeed time for a haircut. “And these bangs, they get in the way of my eyes. It’s hindering my research,” he huffed.

“Alright, alright, I’ll cut it,” you chuckled. You just wished you had some sort of device that could capture his current look forever. It was just so adorable to see Zandik with a mop of fluffy long hair.

After you had set up the area with a towel and a mirror, you got your scissors and comb ready (unfortunately Tevyat didn’t have any better tools.) Zandik already had his attention placed on a hefty ancient book, and you began to move the scissors to a tuff of hair.

Snip. The fluff ball flew down to the floor. And that was when you paused. All of this hair was really going to be gone soon. Which was a shame, considering it was really growing on you. But then an idea popped into your head.

“Hey Zandik,” you said, propping your arms on his shoulders, “What if I gave you a different haircut?” A few seconds of silence passed and you couldn’t contain a grin as Zandik’s red eyes flicked up from his book to stare at you through the mirror you had placed in front of you two.

“Is this why you didn’t bother cutting my hair for so long? I don’t recall being asked to be part of your little experiment.”

“Well, it’s not like you were that much of an unwilling participant. If you truly hated it, you would have made me cut it a long time ago, no?” Zandik scoffed and you took it as a sign it wasn’t a flat-out no.

“Come on! You’ve had that same haircut for years, it’s time to spice things up a bit,” you insisted. “It’ll look so good, promise,” you pouted, going as far as to press your cheek against his scowling face. He let out a sigh but you already knew he was going to agree. It’s the intuition you got from years of dealing with him.

“Fine. Do as you like,” he grumbled, giving you authority over the direction his hair would be now, as he returned his attention to the book. “As long as it is something decent.” You silently cheered.

You had a faint vision of what you wanted, but you had to be cautious of the snip-snipping. Maybe you should start with the bangs first. Instead of the hair falling on his forehead, you wanted to clear that area and make two long bangs to the side of his face instead. Convenient, Zandik’s favorite, and pretty too, your favorite! And so you got to work, clipping and cutting around. But it seemed like your human experiment was more interested than you gave him credit for.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Zandik let out a discontented noise but allowed you to proceed. You found it amusing how his eyes were flickering up to you every now and then to assess your progress. And soon enough, you had done it! Two long, blue locks of hair now bordered your boyfriend’s face, parted from the middle of his forehead. Even Zandik seemed to be satisfied with your work.

But still… it felt like there was something missing. It needed a little something else, to make it a bit unique. Perhaps if you just changed the length of one… you brought the scissors closer to snip off a piece of hair before a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

“Is it not fine this way?” Of course now he has to intervene.

“Well, it is, but… I just think it’ll look better if I just cut one a little bit.”

“I’ve never seen anyone with two differing lengths of bangs,” he frowned. “I remember asking you to present to me a decent haircut, not an outlandish one.”

“That’s because you barely go anywhere besides the dorm, Akademiya, or deep in the forest and desert,” you refuted. “It’s very stylish nowadays!” He didn’t seem much persuaded. “I’ve been cutting your hair for this long, I know what I’m doing, Zandik!”

“You’ve been doing the same haircut for years, I don’t see how that equates to knowledge or experience with other haircuts, [Name],” he rolled his eyes at you. Harmless bickering like this was normal during your Akademiya days.

“Alright, if it looks bad, I will give myself the same uneven cut. Then we’ll be even,” you whined, practically begging for him to give in. “This is very important to your long-time partner, Zandik!” You had a vision and it must be realized!

Before Zandik could let another insult roll off his tongue you made sure to throw your arms around him dramatically and bury your face in his neck, whining out another ‘please’. He stiffened at the sudden contact and you could feel the heat slowly emitting from his body, before he quickly announced his permission.

“Fine then, get on with it idiot.” He could not meet your eyes, but through the mirror, you could see his very slightly flustered face. He still had a hard time accepting physical affection without giving you a few choice words.

“I will!” With no hesitation, you snipped one of his bangs, and now, one curl of hair hovered over his shoulder while the other rested comfortably on his upper chest. And it looked… really good.

“I told you, Zandik. You need to listen to your assistant more often,” you puffed your chest out proudly. Indeed, you didn’t know much about hair, but he didn’t need to know that, and you turned out to be right anyway!

“It’s passable at best,” he remarked, but you had already translated his sour words to that of regular language: it meant that he liked it. Hopefully, now that he’d seen your expertise, the rest of the haircut would go smoothly.

Only that it was the opposite.

“I don’t like how that looks.”

“I’m just parting your hair…”

“Part it the other way.”

“I thought you didn’t care about this,” you heartily laughed and complied with his demands. “You seem more interested in this than me.” Seeing the mad scholar so into what hairstyle he was getting was rather amusing.

“I’m only doing this because I cannot afford for you to mess up, since you want to be so complicated with mere hair. And I don’t need the other scholars talking about me more than they already do.” Zandik wasn’t even trying to fake his keen attention now, the book long discarded on the table. Ah, you did love doing such domestic things with your murderous boyfriend.

It was hard to shave the side of his head, but with your boyfriend’s guidance (who was honestly better with scissors than you for… obvious reasons) you managed to get that part done. And at last, came the hair to the back of his head, which you shaped up easily. The locks of hair rested at the back of his neck and tickled his shoulders. It was long, just as you liked it, but not too long that it would be annoying. And so the haircut was done, with lots of blue locks now lying on the floor surrounding you. Zandik looked like a very different person now, more mature, you think.

“Well, how do you like it? I did quite well, I know,” you hummed running your fingers through his newly formatted locks.

“It’s adequate,” he replied dryly. But it seems like your content smile and gentle hands on him brought out something a bit nicer. “Not bad, indeed.”

“I’m glad you like it, love,” you pecked his forehead before you pulled away, stretching out your body. You didn’t realize how sore you were from all of that until after it was done. And now your body was crying to just collapse in the soft bed and go to sleep. Oh, your homework? Eh… your homework could wait for the morning. You’d just let Zandik do it for you. Speaking of Zandik… it looks like he was already preparing to start getting back into his research and notes again.

“Zandik, I know you’re not thinking of going back to work now,” you sighed. “You’ve been sitting down for hours.” He simply shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“It doesn’t bother me. And I’m busy. During our last expedition, I discovered that…” Out of nowhere, he began to go off into a tangent about something he learned, which you still listened to, because you did enjoy his mini-lectures, but the new haircut especially made him look extra alluring. It was really a good look on him… and now his voice was making you want to fall asleep even more.

“Mhm, that seems quite interesting… but you’ve been pulling all-nighters this whole week. I didn’t forget how you fell asleep in the middle of dismantling a Ruin Drake during that same expedition,” you smiled, a little bit threateningly.

“It was only for a few minutes-”

“And also,” you interrupted. “I do not want to be woken up in the middle of the night during one of your loud eureka moments again, Zandik,” you stated firmly, “Especially not after I just broke my back standing up for so long. Bed. Now. And I will hold your arm hostage if you don’t come.” Normally there would be a long back and forth between the two of you, but it seemed that even Zandik lacked the normal energy to keep up the banter.

And so with enough pulling and tugging, the two of you landed in the bed with utter darkness around. Should you have cleaned up the tufts of hair lying on the towel you placed? Yes, but cuddles and sleep came first. And for someone who moaned and whined about getting into bed with you, after years of being together, Zandik was awfully touchy when it came down to it (in a discreet way, which wasn’t very discreet though.)

Speaking of indiscreetness, your mind was brought to a certain someone who seemed to gain some interest in Zandik a while ago. “Say, Zandik, you should let me know if Sohreh has something nice to say about your new hairstyle,” you teased. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” Zandik let out an immediate groan of annoyance.

“Don’t get me started on that girl,” he clicked his tongue in irritation. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle her.” You thought the whole situation was funny, Zandik thought it was horribly annoying.

“Aww, don’t say that… I’m sure she’ll leave you be eventually,” you giggled, tightening your arms around him while your lover just hmph-ed in response.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to sleep? Cease this nonsense and rest already.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m doing that now, Mr. Popular,” you rolled your eyes mockingly. “Good night, Zandik,” your tone turned softer at that last statement, as you pressed a kiss to his chest before fluttering your eyes shut.

“Yes, good night, [Name],” the scientist returned the farewell in an unusually soft tone as well, only after you were fast asleep though.

The two lovers had a rather restful sleep that night.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore fluff #genshin impact il dottore #il dottore #genshin il dottore #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #zandik x reader #genshin impact dottore #genshin impact zandik

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Carpe Noctem 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The condensation of the glass drips from your fingers.. You hate the feeling, slick and slightly irritating. You switch hands as you sway to the music, penned in by strangers as you try to see past them. You’re a bit awkward, off on your own, but no one seems to notice as you stand nearly a head below the rest of clubbers.

You stand on your toes but it doesn’t help. The music and the haze of voices doesn’t help your search. You yipe as you feel a tug on your arm. You turn to Sabrina and Selena, the tall blondes with cocktails as identical as they are. The twins are stunning individually, but together, they’re gobsmackingly gorgeous. And, you must admit, chaotic.

“Where did you two get off to?” You yell over the music.

“Mom!” Selena teases as she rolls her eyes.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“We were just getting drinks, duh!” Sabrina shows her bright pink cocktail and takes a slurp through the skinny straw.

“Right,” you look at your ginger ale, the ice has already melted. Responsible and bland, just like you. Designated driver and designated mom friend. “I’m sure that’s all you were doing.”

“Well,” Selena smirks, “we did meet a guy.”

“Really?” You tilt your head sardonically, “you said this was a girls’ night. No dudes.”

“Relax, we know Johnny would have a fit, alright? It’s not like that, we’d just go up for the drinks.”

“You have drinks,” you counter, “and go up where?”

“Private room,” Sabrina says, “come on, don’t be a sourpuss! When’s the last time you went to a private room?”

You almost snarl. They know you aren’t the club sort and it’s obvious you don’t have the looks to be invited up to some playboys crow’s nest. Besides, it gives you the ick. Those men standing up there leering from the windows like some deranged lookouts.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You rebuff.

“Come on, pleeeeaaaaassseeee,” Sabrina pouts, “we promise, we’re not going to hook up. We’re just going to flirt our way into bottle service.”

“Look, you come up and we’ll pay for the uber. Since we won’t be paying for booze, we’ll be able to afford it,” Selena winks.

“I don’t really…” you sigh. It’s two against one, as always. Even if you wanted to drink, you know you can’t. You have to keep an eye on these two. “Fine, but I mean it. No hook ups. And I don’t want to be up there all night.”

“Yessss!” Selena throws her fist up.

“Ugh, you guys,” you roll your eyes, “you make me feel like a bitch.”

“No, you’re just the responsible one,” Sabrina chuckles and turns on her heel, “come on! Before someone else takes our spot.”

“Are you sure… it’s okay that I’m with you?” You ask as you trail after them, speaking to the end of their long ponytails.

“Of course, we said we had a third. Just… play along.”

“Play along? What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to make out with anyone but like, don’t be frigid.”

“You are making me regret my decision already,” you retort.

“Come on. You can handle it. You’ve never had any issue giving a guy a swat. He gets too handsy and–” she flicks her hand above her shoulder so you can see, “give him one.”

You hold back your complaints. You know once the twins have their minds set, there’s not changing them. All you can do is act as chaperone and make sure they don’t get too messy.

You follow them to a set of spiral stairs and climb up behind them, balancing your ginger ale perilously as you refuse to look down and see the height building below you. Sabrina leads the way, striding up to a door with a golden snake on it. She knocks and peeks over her shoulder, giving a wink.

It opens and a man appears, clean shaven with neatly parted hair, a glint in his blue eyes as he smirks at Sabrina.

“Selena?” He asks.

“I’m Sab,” she chides.

“Ah, I’ll figure it out,” he kids, “come in.”

He leaves the door open as Sabrina enters, then Selena, and you reluctantly bring up the rear. The music is muffled by the walls as you do and your ears feel ready to pop. You take a drink of your soda to hide your discomfort.

“Twins,” another man muses. He sits on the sofa, an arm across the back. A satin shirt is unbuttoned way too low on his chest, the mustache adding to the allusion to Tom Selleck several decades ago.

You’re used to being overshadowed by the twins. You really don’t mind given the circumstance, you have a boyfriend. You nurse the ginger ale as a third man approaches; tall, blonde, and sleek in a powder blue jacket. Probably the best looking of the trio.

“Jonathan,” he introduces himself to the twins.

“Sabrina and Selena,” the man who answered the door stretches his arms around the twins’ waists.

“And our friend,” Selena makes sure to introduce you, waving you forward.

“Ah, pardon.”

“This is Ransom,” Sabrina leans into the man between them.

The man from the couch says nothing, almost scowling as he watches Selena, her eyes on Jonathan as she accepts a polite kiss on the cheek. Yep, doesn’t feel great to be third wheel, though it saves you a lot of trouble.

The girls fall into a low conversation with Ransom and Jonathan. You hover and hesitate before sitting on the other end of the couch, staring at the bubbles rising to the top of your soda. Awkward.

“Couldn’t have found triplets,” the man grumbles as he twists a golden ring on his finger.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you snip.

He looks at you, almost surprised to find you there. His cheek twitches and he sighs, pushing himself up with the armrest. “I need a fucking drink.”

So much for pretenses. You watch him go to the small bar in the corner and you turn your attention to the windows flashing with a spectrum of lights. It’s not entirely unexpected for the night to take this turn, you were just hoping it wouldn’t.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #the clup #carpe noctem #the gray man

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astral--horrorshow · 10 months

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Around-The-Clock Shadows

Platonic Yandere ROTTMNT x Reader

Info: This will be a full-length fic including multiple ROTTMNT characters, the main storyline revolves around the Mad Dogs

Fic Summary: You sure are likeable, aren't you?

《Directory》

Chapter 5: Shakedowns and Tranq-Downs

Characters: Raph, Leo, Donnie, Mikey

A/N: Sorry for being late! I had a very busy week, so I was very tired and didn't have much energy to write. I kept S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. with his new design, but his old voice, and a slight bias towards Donnie.

If you want to be added to a taglist, just say the word! If you want to draw fanart or make anything based off of this, I would be literally honored. Please don't be shy, I will love whatever you make! If you have any questions about the fic, feel free to ask!

TW: Kidnapping, drugging, mentions of roofies, non-serious hand injuries, toxic relationships, manipulation, condecension, you watch a movie with violence but nothing graphic

I do not condone any of the behaviors found or done in this fic. This story is purely for entertainment purposes. If you or someone you know is being treated like this, please contact the authorities.

Chapter Summary: You are not enjoying watching Lou Jitsu: Teriyaki Shakedown, but you don't really catch a lucky break when it has to be paused.

Word Count: 1926

☆~☆~☆

"Where's our free grub, noodle man?" One of the actors on the screen said, glaring at the pompadoured head that was turning to look at him sideways.

"Okay, ha, how 'bout some... hot soup?" Lou Jitsu said, grabbing the on-screen mobsters and tossing them in the aforementioned bowls of hot soup, making noodles and broth fly all around the shop.

You were distracted from the movie by something poking the edge of your mouth. You looked to to it with your eyes, and it was revealed to be a spoon with ice cream on it. At least, it used to be icey. Seven hours into the Lou Jitsu marathon the brothers had dragged you to watch when they found out you had only seen one of his many, many movies, and you were barley hanging on, but the ice cream had given much sooner, melting into sugary milk soup hours earlier.

Not that Mikey noticed, because he continued to mindlessly feed you spoonfuls. You didn't mind too much that it was melted, because you were going to need whatever form of sugar you could get to make it through the rest of Teriyaki Shakedown.

You opened your mouth, eating the soupy dessert while Leo tightened his arms around your shoulders. At the start of the marathon, Leo had snatched you and settled you down you on his lap while he sat criss-cross on the chair in the middle of the projector room. This earned him dirty looks from his brothers, but he didn't seem bothered at all. They had attempted to steal you from him a few times, but Leo was persistent. He wouldn't let go of you or entertain his brother's complaints, demands, or arguments.

After another thirty minutes of watching Lou Jitsu beat up bad guys, Donnie's phone buzzed. He almost lazily held it up to his face, but his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates upon seeing whatever text he had received. He immediately jumped up, grabbed the remote, and switched off the movie, earning complaints and shouts from his brothers, but secretly earned your gratitude. You weren't sure that you could take much more of Mr. Jitsu.

"What gives, Donnie?!" Leo snapped, pulling your back closer to his chest and leaning forwards, glaring at his purple-clad twin. Donnie held up a hand at his angry brothers, "Bad news, April texted, and she's going to be over in 5 minutes," he said this with a hint of panic in his usual voice, and his brothers immediately panicked and yelled and dashed around the projector room, tidying things up. "Who's April?" You asked from the chair, now sitting alone on it after Leo had dashed from it. The turtles stopped in their tracks and went quiet at your question for a moment, before Leo answered, "Nobody, hermanito!" He nervously laughed, and the brothers resumed their living-room clean up.

You watched them throw things back into place, so focused that you didn't notice Donnie sneaking up behind you, a syringe in the claws of one of his metal arms. He plunged it into your neck, which made wooziness overtake you. You fell off the chair because you couldn't hold yourself upright, but Donnie's metal arms caught you before you could faceplant on the floor. He held you up as he carried you away, all of your senses fading as whatever drug he had injected into you took hold.

☆~☆~☆

April O'Neil strolled into the projector room as she had done many times in the past to see three of the the Hamato brothers looking like somebody had yelled "Act natural!" five seconds before she had walked in. Leo was "reading" his favorite Jupiter Jim comic book in Splinter's chair, his eyes unblinking. Mikey and Raph were both hunched over at the table behind the chair, playing chess.

That was when April knew something was up. Those two played chess once and then swore to never touch it again. Raph couldn't remember all the rules and got super frustrated, and Mikey was of the opinion that the game was mind-numbingly boring. "What's up?" April asked, her hand on her hip and her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Mikey snapped his head in her direction, feigning casual surprise, "April! We-did-not-hear-you-come-in!" He said, his words and the way he said feeling scripted, like a laser tag or escape room employee. "Yuh-huh, yeah. What's goin' on? You never play chess!"

The three turtles were now all sweating, beads of it falling down their faces at a rapid pace. Raph held up a finger and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

A wave of relief washed over the brothers when Donnie walked back into the room, casual as ever. "Hello, April," He said, stopping to greet his friend. "Hi there, Donnie," She answered back, turning her attention to the semi-scientist, "Your brothers are acting real-" "Weird? Yeah, they do that a lot. Haven't you noticed by now?" April looked like she wanted to say something more, but kept her mouth shut. She would investigate this later.

☆~☆~☆

You opened your eyes, your vision blurry. Outlines in your view bounced around like a windows screensaver, the pounding in your head doing nothing to help your vision. You opened your mouth in a silent groan. You had only been trapped in the Lair, as the turtles called it, for a few days, but aside from when they knocked you out to bring you there, this hadn't been the first time Donnie had done this. He claimed he was a genius, so couldn't he make a tranquilizer that didn't make you feel like what adults described having a hangover was like?

You leaned your head back on the desk chair you were sitting on and waited for the headache to wain, and wondered if people were looking for you. Maybe, maybe not. The police probably weren't. People leigons more important than you were going missing, and other crimes were being committed, too. The NYC police force would spare a glance to a random missing teenager when Hell froze over, world peace was achieved, and no packs of gum had been stolen from any pharmacies.

Despite all of your thinking, your headache became manageable in the time of your reflection. You cautiously stood up from the chair and walked a few steps, and when your brain failed to feel like it had a bullet in it, you began to trek around in the unfamiliar part of the lair.

It appeared to be some sort of laboratory, which along with the purple theme, immediately informed you it was Donnie's turf. It was dark, the only source of light being an indigo beam from high up on the ceiling, which you didn't bother to walk to the fancy table in the middle of the room to look up at. You wandered behind the desk you had woken up at, eyes adjusting to the near-darkness, when you had tripped over something large and heavy. Your hands had shot out in front of you to stop you from face-planting onto the tile.

As soon as pain burst across your palms, a door to your far right that you didn't know was there opened, the light from that crept through the doorway and between whoever had opened the door shining in your eyes and practically blinding you.

"What happened?!" The voice, which revealed itself to be Donnie's, sounded shocked with a hint of annoyance seeping in, "You weren't supposed to get up!" He switched on the lights, blinding you further, and rushed over to you. His metal robot arms scooped you up from under your armpits, like how one might hold a cat, and plopped you down on the table in the center of the room.

He turned your hands over to inspect your palms for any visible injuries with a furrowed brow. When he concluded that your palms were only reddened, he relaxed the slightest bit. “I have to get bandages for your hands. Stay here.” He walked off and through another door that presumably led to another part of the lab. You watched his battleshell disappear around the corner, lowering your head and sulking.

“Greetings.”

Your head snapped up to find a purple, aviatic robot flying about a foot from your head. You gasped as your eyes widened, staring in surprise and curiosity. “My apologies, it was not my intention to frighten you. I merely desire to introduce myself. I am S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., I was created by your brother, Donatello, as an assistant to him and your other brothers, and your father, as well.” You didn’t bother to tell S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. that they weren’t your brothers, and that their father wasn’t yours. You had already tried it with the turtles, and they would either shut you down completely or act like you didn’t say anything at all.

“Oh, okay. Donnie made you?”

“Yes, that is correct. He is quite the genius.”

“Okay.”

“Ah, I see you’ve acquainted yourself with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. in my absence.”

You and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. both glanced over to see Donatello in the doorway, first-aid kit in hand. He strolled over to the two of you, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. moving to the side so Donnie could patch you up. He set the first-aid kit down on the messy table beside you, opening it and pulling out a balm of some kind and a single glove made out of plastic, akin to one a doctor would wear. Donnie pulled it on his hand, the other two fingers left dangling as there was no use for them. He dipped two of his fingers in the balm, using his other hand to hold one of your palms up at time as he spread the balm over them. You had to admit, it was soothing.

"Donnie?"

"Hm?" He didn't look up at your face, busying himself with wrapping your palms with bandages.

"Why do you have to use that roofie thing every time you wanna take me somewhere? You could just ask me."

He let out a sigh of annoyance, "It is not a 'roofie'. Roofie's are used by degenerates with malicious intentions. I merely subdue you because you are adjusting to life here and you cannot handle overwhelming visual stimuli that will come with seeing too much of the lair at the moment." He said, as if every Lou Jitsu movie wasn't "overwhelming visual stimuli".

You hung your head again, pouting at his dissmissive answer. He noticed this and furrowed his brow again, lifting your chin with a single finger to make you look at him, "I am doing this for your own benefit. I'm only doing what's best for you." You nodded to get him to stop talking, feeling a ramble was coming on. Normally, you didn't mind rambling in the slightest, but his opinions on your competence in taking care of yourself often left you with hurt feelings and tears in your eyes.

Donnie's phone buzzed, and he opened it to find much more pleasent news for him. "April has gone home. It's time to finish Teriyaki Shakedown, don't you think?" He said, it obviously not being a question despite it's phrasing. "Don't worry, I won't let Leo hog you again." You merely nodded. Maybe after the movie, you would finally get to go to sleep or eat some real food.

☆~☆~☆

A/N: Be careful, April!

Taglist <3: @yanteetle @yandere-toons @averagerottmntsimp @whyiseveryonesodamnfinetho @writelikenobody @takottai

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waklman · 1 year

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i seriously need to read bradley and mouse asap!!!! but i’m currently thinking of the chaos that is jake and princess baking. do they even bake? i feel like they wouldn’t have time but occasionally one of them would whip out one of mama seresin’s recipies on a special occasion and make something. i have so many conflicting thoughts of how good of a cook any of the members of the dagger squad are so i’m wondering what your thoughts are on that. anyways, i love you and good luck on your exams, you’re going to ace them!!!! and take your time with the requests <3

prompt: the disasters of jake and princess baking.

warnings: none, fluff, a little steamy kiss (?) i dont know how it took a turn okay, jake being a pest as usual, 18+ blog, minors dni.

side note: honestly i feel like everyone would be a great cook, maybe with the exception of jake he’d probably swear up and down that he’s the best but everyone spits out his food once they try it (sorry jake). and thank you drewbear!! i will be studying my ass off but it will be worth it i hope..!

fake it masterlist

“You better stay right there,” you pause your stirring, letting the whisk rest against the bowl, eyes lifting to where you commanded Jake to stand.

Behind the kitchen counter, Jake’s toes wriggle in his socks, battling the urge to disobey your warning. Dusted across the planes of his shoulders is the baking powder you were trying to use for his mom’s special oatmeal cookie recipe. And on his tongue rests a chunk of raw dough he scooped into his mouth without your permission.

Baking with Jake being present was clearly a mistake, and the only way to correct that was to put him on time out.

“I can’t breath when I’m away from you,” he whines, complaint muffled by the wad of cookie dough in his mouth.

“Okay,” you start, voice as sweet as the mixture you’re beginning to stir again. Jake’s already moving out of his spot, pleased that you’ve decided to forgive him. But then, your tone turns ice cold, “Looks like you’re dying then,” you answer flatly, reverting your attention back to the mixing bowl, as if you didn’t just shoot him down.

At that, Jake retreats back to his original stance with slouched shoulders this time. You’re keeping him on time out.

Though, this isn't exactly his first instance of being put under the spotlight of punishment.

The last time Jake found himself in this much trouble was eight years ago—when he had the grand idea to shove you in the pool. Back then, it was an excuse to get some mouth-on-mouth action with his best friend, because how else would he be able to figure out, if he had a crush on you or not? After letting you drown for a little bit, Jake planned to play life guard. He’d pull you out, lay you flat against the towel he had set up, and plant his lips on yours—to resuscitate you, of course.

But what twelve year old Jake didn’t account for in his poorly laid out scheme, was his mother. Mrs. Seresin had been one foot out the door, plate of freshly cut fruit in hand when she witnessed her son kick you into the deep end, evil grin stretched across his tiny face. Instead of Jake coming to your rescue that afternoon, Evelyn Seresin did. With the platter of neatly decorated fruit dropped to the ground, and her mama-bear instincts cranked to an all time high—she fished you out of the water and wiped away your panicked tears.

Not a second after, Jake got dragged by the ear towards the time out zone, designated just for him.

He was forced to stand off in the corner of the backyard that day, pruned fingers scrunching the bottom of his swim shorts in guilt and waterlogged blond hair sticking to his forehead as the sun began to dry him off.

When he finally lifted his teary eyes up to you, your little fingers were already curled into the shape of a heart, directed right at him. It was a silent assurance that you still loved him, even when he nearly killed you. The very second you caught the pout tugging down his bottom lip, you had forgiven him. That quality about you, was the only reason why Jake had any kind of long-term friendship.

But your patience for him seems to have dialed down over the last eight years—because Jake got thrown into time out again, not by his mother, but by you this time.

Unable to stay still for more than a few minutes, Jake silently stalks over to you. You currently have your back turned from just setting the sheet of cookies into the oven.

“There we g—Jacob! P-Put me down!” In one move, Jake has you flipped around and thrown over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Despite the initial protest, you’re draped limply over his back, surrendering to him entirely.

Coming to a halt in front of the sofa, Jake lazily throws you into the cushions and crawls on top of you. It’s a routine at this point—where Jake’s chin sits over your belly button, large hands slipped under your shirt to rest on your waist, and thumbs sweeping over the goosebumps there. The way your body reacts to him gives him a bit of reassurance, but sometimes—he needs more.

“Would you actually let me die,” he pouts, looking up at you with furrowed brows.

You stiffly blink at him, reminded of the day he drowned you—on purpose. It would be mean to bring it back up when you’ve previously forgiven him, but this is revenge for him messing with you in the kitchen.

“It’s only fair—you almost let me die once,” you put forth, a serious expression dawning on your features. Though, it’s merely an act, because internally—you’re waging a war against yourself, wanting to give into him already.

The furrow of his brows deepen. Jake grips your waist tighter in remorse. “I was tryna’ get it on with you!”

“So you decided to drown me?”

He’s now reminded of how cruel his plan was.

Jake’s face falls flat against your stomach, nose prodding into your flesh. “...Yes,” he mumbles against you. With Jake unable to see you, the tight look you’re wearing dissipates. You silently let out a breath you were holding, dropping the angry act you put up.

Jake continues to sulk, nuzzling his nose against you, resisting the urge to kiss your tummy. Hardly two seconds go by, before the sight of him writhing in his guilt breaks you.

“Jake. I–I think I’m drowning,” you whisper nervously, heart starting to race at your own statement.

Jake stiffens.

Slowly, he lifts his head to rest his chin back onto your stomach. Jake then swallows thickly, wide-eyed as he meets your stare. “...And you need savin’?”

Your hesitation lingers for a grueling moment before you finally nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“…Yeah, I think I do.”

Jake jumps into action, seizing the moment his twelve year old self would’ve let you die over. Not expecting his quick reaction, a yelp escapes you as he pulls you down to face him.

His mouth is latched onto yours in an instant.

Jake allows you to set the pace at first, it’s slow, shy, intimate—just as you are. But once he feels your fingers wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down against your front with a small noise leaving your mouth—Jake is overtaken by a hunger to hear it again.

Your skin runs hot against him now, burning against the couch, burning against his digits under your shirt. With an expert tilt of his head, Jake kisses you deeper—rougher, expelling all the air from your lungs. And it certainly doesn’t help when his warm tongue darts into your mouth, teasingly swirling against your own wet muscle—all while his calloused palms explore further up the oversized tee. The combination was enough to make your head spin, despite laying steady against the cushions.

If he were to stretch his hands any higher, his finger tips would hit the band of your bra. And god, you don’t know if you could handle that.

It's unconscious but you shiver under him, and Jake’s unable to fight the smile making its way onto his face. He slows the movement of his lips against yours, retracting his tongue—despite your weak efforts to get him to return back to his bruising pace, with a pinch of his nape.

His previous need to see you unravel under him is dropped, replaced by a stronger desire to crack a joke instead. Jake pulls back chuckling, hands lowering to your waist again, pinning you down as you try to chase his lips.

Underneath him, you’re flushed with embarrassment, blinking at him like a deer in headlights.

The tongue—that was previously shoved into your mouth is being traced over his bottom lip, in amusement.

“Woulda tried drowning you again, if I knew you were gonna react that way.”

As you open your mouth to scold him, it snaps shut again.

A silence passes through, while you reconsider your reply.

Finally, you shrug underneath him—deciding to supply a more truthful response instead, “I…yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

feel free to follow @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @wkndwlff @bubblegumbeautyqueen @averyhotchner @angeliccks @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @dempy @geraltsaxii @angelbabyange @milani-marie @blueoorchid @soapysoaply @mamaskillerqueen @blue-aconite @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @clancycucumber230 @emma8895eb @ohgodnotagainn @starlightstories @bbyvanessaa @scoopsr0bin @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @magicstrengthandcourage @desert-fern @coconut152 @moonlight-addisyn @mosiwil @ronanallisterswife @s0uz4s @amandato300 @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @mikkorantanev @brookiecookiez0 @scarlovesyou @hisredheadedgoddess28 @sushiwriterhere @ccristata @nervousmumbling @acarboni21 @maddievevoo @chimchimjiminie16 @djs8891 @purplevortexx @kajjaka @reallysparklychaos @kashee-h

#jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #fake it #hangman x reader #hangman fic #hangman seresin #hangman x you

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

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It's Just Us Here

Summary: Summary: When the war ends, you decide to fulfill the promise you silently made to Jesse when you first started dating him. Two weeks on a private remote island on a tropical planet hours away from anyone who might make him do any work.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader

Word Count: 2245

Warnings: Smut, Dom/Sub relationship, oral (f receiving), cockwarming

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Here is Jesse smut for you all. Because I love him and he deserves it. Also, the smut became fluff because it's what he deserves.

“Babe,” There’s laughter in Jesse’s voice, and you couldn’t be happier about it, it’s been too long since your perfect man has been happy. “Babe, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” You reply as you spin to face him, “We’re almost there. Trust me.” You smile at him prettily, and he reaches up to lightly brush some of your hair out of your face.

“I do trust you, and I’m happy to spend time with you, but I thought we were going to be relaxing. Not going on an expedition.” Jesse teases.

You pout at him, “There’s nowhere to relax on Coruscant, so we had to take a ship. Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when we were staying in the cabin.”

“Babe, you spent a large majority of the flight naked and pressed against me. I’m fairly certain I wasn’t thinking about anything other than that.” Jesse replies dryly.

You grin at him, “You’re such a guy sometimes.” You say fondly.

“Yeah well, I didn’t hear any complaints from you. In fact, all I heard from you was ‘more, please’ and ‘don’t stop’.” Jesse pitches his voice higher to mimic your voice and you bump him with your shoulder.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Do so. I would know. I hear it more than you do.” He teases.

“For now,” You sniff.

Jesse just grins at you, and drops a loud kiss on your cheek. “Now, where are you taking me, cyare?”

You take his hands and tug him through the crowd of people over to a man carrying a sign with your name on it, standing in front of a smaller ship, “We, love, are spending the next two weeks on a private island.”

Jesse blinks at you.

“It’s just going to be you and me, and maybe a couple of birds.”

“Babe-”

“Is it too much?”

“How did you afford this?”

You blink at him, “I’ve been saving since we started dating.” You admit honestly. “I didn’t take a single vacation day, and I took as much overtime as I could when you were off planet.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to-”

“Yes. I did.” You smile at him anxiously, “Will you come and see it, before you say it’s too much?”

“Of course I will.”

You beam at him, and then turn to the man holding the sign. You speak to him for several moments, and then turn to Jesse, “Alright, he’s ready to bring us now, if you wanna grab the suitcase?”

Jesse grabs the suitcase, and climbs on the ship after you, and the door slides shut behind him.

30 minutes later, you’re climbing off the ship and onto a sandy beach with Jesse on your heels. The island isn’t massive, but it is covered in white sandy beaches, a nice little bungalow, and you know there’s a hidden waterfall somewhere on the island.

The transport leaves, and Jesse looks around, a slightly awed look on his face, “All of this is just for us?” He asks.

“Yup.” You pull your hair off of your neck, “There will be another food delivery at the end of the week, we just need to use the datapad left in the kitchen to place our order.”

“..holy shit, babe.”

You laugh, “Come on, from the virtual tour I took, the inside is amazing. Plus, it’s hot and I want to change into something cooler.”

With that said, you lead Jesse towards the house, and slide the door open.

The house is open and clean, and though it’s not massive, it is big enough for you and Jesse. There’s the bedroom, with a bed big enough for at least four people, and the attached fresher’s bathtub looks like it was designed for a king.

The kitchen is large and clean, with plenty of storage places.

But, your favorite place, and the reason you chose this island over any of the other ones, is the room with the hot tub.

The hot tub is completely enclosed in its own room attached to the house, that way no wild animals can get into it. However, there’s a control panel next to the door that will turn the scenery into anything that you want.

Which means that you can soak in the hot tub under the stars even in the middle of the day.

Jesse hasn’t seen the hot tub yet, he got distracted with the bedroom, which is totally understandable.

But you, you have plans. And those plans don’t involve the bed.

Well. Not yet, at least.

So you slip into the hot tub room, and turn the scenery to the proper setting, with the star and the moon high in the sky, and then you start the hot tub.

You consider, for a moment, telling Jesse what you’re about to do, and then you change your mind. It’ll be better for him to find you already in the hot tub.

So, with a sly smile on your lips, you peel off your clothes and toss them on the floor just inside the living room, where Jesse will see them, and then you climb into the tub, and sink into the hot water with a sigh.

It’s perfect.

The only way it’ll be better is if Jesse joins you.

Jesse comes looking for you less than ten minutes later.

“Babe?” You hear him from the living room, and then you hear a low chuckle and the door to the room slides open properly.

He whistles lowly as he takes in the room with a quick glance, but the majority of his gaze is locked on you. “Decided to get started without me, cyar’ika?” He asks as he comes to stand next to the hot tub, his dark gaze dragging down your body.

You smile at him innocently, “You were taking so long,” You drag out the words as you stretch your arms over your head, “And I got bored.” You add with a playful pout.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Jesse asks, not taking his gaze off of you as he slowly peels his clothes off.

You turn in the tub, hungrily drinking in every inch of skin that he reveals. You love him. Every scar, every stretch mark, every muscle. And you could spend the rest of your life staring at him and die a happy woman.

“You’re so gorgeous,” You sigh out adoringly, sitting up on your knees to make grabby hands at him.

“Stars, you’re needy,” Jesse replies with a laugh as he climbs into the tub and immediately has to catch you when you fling yourself into his arms. “It’s like I never touch you or something.”

You perch yourself on his knees, nearly purring when his rough hands drag down the sensitive skin of your sides. “I have no idea what you mean,” You say primly.

“Of course not,” Jesse leans in and kisses you, a quick kiss, chaste almost. Chaste enough, at least, that when he pulls away, you whine at him. He just chuckles and attaches his lips to your neck, nipping gently, and then soothing the spots with his tongue. “Mm, is my good girl being bratty today?”

“I,” You say through a moan as he finds the spot on your neck that makes you weak, “am never bratty.”

“Is that right?” Jesse presses a feather light kiss below your ear, and then drags his lips to your shoulder, where he nips roughly enough that you squeak, “So you’re not going to be bratty no matter what.”

“Nope.” You reply breathlessly.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me and listen?” Jesse asks, his lips curling up into a grin against your skin.

“Yup.”

He pulls away, and there’s mischief in his eyes, “Oh, I’ll believe it when I see it, pretty girl.” There’s a look on his face that makes your stomach flip with nervous excitement. His hands slide down your sides again, and then up your spine, and his lips move back to your throat.

Usually, Jesse starts off with marking you as much as he can stand and then he moves on to more enjoyable things, like making you fall apart around his fingers or tongue.

But not this time. This time he keeps his touch feather light, and his lips don’t trail lower than your collar bone.

And you can’t help it. You want him so bad, and you know he’s just as aroused back on the erection you can feel pressed against you, so you whine his name and trail your fingers to his hard length, wanting, needing, more than he’s giving you.

But before you can even give him a teasing stroke, his hands are wrapped around your wrists, and there is a look of triumph in his face, “Mm, good girls ask before they touch, cyar’ika.”

You pout at him prettily, “But I want you. And I know you want me.”

He kisses you, his teeth catching your lower lip with a teasing nip, before he pulls away, “I thought you said you were going to be good?”

“Please Jesse?” He adjusts you on his lap and lightly strokes your ass before he gives it a slap, pulling a yelp from you, and then a pout. “Please?”

“What do you want, my pretty girl?” Jesse asks.

“You! You’re cock. Please?”

“Hm…do you deserve my cock, cyar’ika?”

“Yes!”

“Mm, I’m not so sure you do.”

“Jesse-” You whine his name and he chuckles.

“You have been very good at using your words to tell me what you want,” He muses thoughtfully as he strokes the sore spot on your rear, “Sit up on the edge of the hot tub, cyar’ika.”

“But that’s not what I want-” You whine, and then you squeak when he lifts you and sits you where he wants you.

“I know it isn’t.” Jesse replies with a grin, “I decided that you haven’t earned my cock yet.” He lazily strokes your inner thigh, “So I’m going to make you fall apart on my tongue.” He coos as his thumb ghosts across your slick slit, “And if you cum before I give you permission, then you’re going to get punished.”

Arousal washes through you, “Punished how?”

“Hm, maybe I’ll use those toys you like so much on you until you can’t think straight.” He teases, “But then, I know you and I know you’ll enjoy that.”

“Would not.” You reply automatically, and then you moan as his thumb presses against your clit, “Jesse-”

“Maybe I’ll tie you up and make you watch while I fist my cock,” He murmurs as he leans in and presses a kiss to your thigh, “Deny you what you want so much. Make you wait for the orgasm you want so badly.”

“Would not.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jesse asks, a grin on his lips.

You hesitate, and his grin grows, “That’s what I thought,” He drapes one of your legs over his shoulders and presses a kiss to your cunt, “So, be a good girl, and I’ll give you everything you want tonight.”

And then he gives you a long lick, his tongue zeroing in on your clit as you rest your hands on the top of his head. He alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking gently, and it doesn’t take long before you're squirming, and he has to hold both of your legs open.

“Kriff,” He breathes against you, “You’re so sensitive, I love it.”

“Jess-” You moan his name, “Please-”

He slows his movements, and you release a frustrated noise, “Patience, cyar’ika,” Jesse murmurs reassuringly.

“Don’t wanna-” You gasp out, “Jesse please, let me feel you-”

He kisses your thigh once, twice, and his dark eyes are locked on your face. And then a quiet curse falls from his lips, and faster than you really know what’s happening, he’s sitting back in the water and you’re positioned just over his straining cock.

Slowly you sink down on his hard length. And you only stop when you are pressed flush against him. His hands glide across your body, caressing and teasing, but when you go to start moving, he tightly grips your hips holding you still.

“Hold on, babe.” He murmurs.

Your face is flushed, and you feel like there’s a million bees buzzing under your skin, and you want nothing more than to fall apart under Jesse, but even so you don’t move. “What…is something wrong?”

One of his hands slides up to cup your face, and you lean your head into his touch, “I love you.” Jesse whispers.

You press your forehead against his, “I love you too.” You whisper back to him, “But, stars, Jesse, I need you to move.”

He laughs softly, and tucks your hair behind your ear, “Can we stay like this, just for a bit? I want to be close to you.”

And you melt a little bit, “I can’t promise that I’m going to be able to stay still,” You admit.

He chuckles, “That’s okay. I did get you all riled up after all.” He rains light kisses all across your face, “I just need to be close to you for a bit.”

You hum thoughtfully, and wrap your arms around his neck, being careful not to move too much. You know that Jesse will probably start to tease you before long, but for now you’re happy just being with him, and having him with you.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper jesse x reader #jesse x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #18+ fic #clone thirsting

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ebongawk · 7 months

Text

part one | part two

He fucked up. He fucked up so bad.

Bad enough that when he'd told Wayne how he'd fucked up, Wayne had let out a long, slow sigh, wrapped a comforting hand around his shoulder and squeezed, and then smacked the back of his head like he did when Eddie was acting foolish as a child.

"Jesus, kid," Wayne grumbled as he led Eddie downstairs. "You really like the taste of your own feet, huh?"

"What?"

"Because you keep putting your damn foot in your damn mouth," Wayne shot, smacking him in the head again. Eddie didn't even voice his complaint at the pain. "Didn't I raise you with a modicum of sense?"

"At least one," Eddie sighed, sitting heavily on the kitchen chair – and only then noticing that it, too, was different. Same chairs they'd picked up at a flea market, but obviously refurbished and restained in a way lighter color. The gaudy orange cushions had been replaced with a way mellower off-white that was run through with patterns of ivy. Chrissy had taken down the wallpaper in here, too, and repainted it in a soft chick-feather yellow. And all of the walls were decorated with paintings of sunflowers, bringing her design together so fucking fantastically.

Eddie'd been so up in his own fucking head that he didn't see any of the signs Chrissy had cast up in neon shapes for his arrival. Now that he noticed, he was suddenly seeing dozens of little touches she'd put through the house. Some new furniture to add and replace the secondhand shit they'd scrounged together before he left; new paint on practically every wall; rugs across the wood floors that definitely hadn't been there before; photos and art hung up in practically every room.

Normally, the gross feelings in Eddie's gut were vindicated. People almost always proved to be the goddamn worst.

But Chrissy had never done anything in the entire eighteen months they'd been together to give Eddie a reason to doubt her. He was just... He was just so goddamn used to being disappointed that he'd braced himself for impact without giving her a chance to prove him wrong.

And wrong he fucking was.

So wrong, in fact, that he was convinced he'd ruined the life they had been building together and she was going to leave him.

He didn't even know if he had the strength to stop her.

All of this was voiced to Wayne, who sat across from him at the kitchen table and gave a weary sigh as Eddie wrapped up his pity party.

"Really?" his uncle asked. "One misunderstanding and you're gonna throw in the towel?"

"I accused her of cheating––"

"Yeah, and that was stupid as hell," Wayne interrupted. "But that girl's been with you for well over a year now. I'm sure she expects stupid as hell from you at this point."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Not my fault you've unscrewed a few too many up top," Wayne shrugged. "And I know you've been cheated on––"

"I didn't give a shit about any of that when it happened," Eddie grumbled, waving his hand through the air like he could dismiss Wayne's rumblings.

His uncle blinked at him, head tilted to one side and a strange look on his face.

"Kid, I know you got some shit to work through, but are you honestly trying to convince me you didn't care when Regina messed around behind your back? Or when Leslie did?"

"Pops––"

"You ain't made o' steel, Ed," Wayne finished before Eddie could disagree again. "No matter how you try and convince the world. Anyone with a heart tender as yours would be wounded by that kinda bullshit, alright? But it wasn't you. It was them. And now you've got a girl that wants to go to Hell and back for you. So you better not let her get away."

Wayne stood then before Eddie could compose any sort of retort. Leaving Eddie alone to stew in his own idiocy.

Prior to Chrissy, Eddie didn't really do relationships. He'd had all of a half dozen rushed bar bathroom trysts before the band moved to Cali, and the girls he met in the scene while Corroded Coffin struggled to make a name for themselves weren't all that into being tied down. Which Eddie was fine with. His only stipulation was that they be exclusive so he could avoid catching anything.

They'd both agreed. And they'd both broken that stipulation. He and Leslie had only been seeing each other for a couple months, but Regina was an entire year of his life down the goddamn drain.

It wasn't like he was expecting her to suddenly want to commit. But, fuck, dude, she could've just left when she wasn't feeling it anymore instead of trying to lie. Trying to pretend like she wasn't waiting for the band to make it big so she could snatch him up, then and getting frustrated when it kept not happening. So she fucked other guys to make up for Eddie's extended list of shortcomings, which she presented to him when he confronted her about cheating.

Which was fine. Because he re-met Chrissy a month later and everything worked out for the best.

Except the part where Eddie fucked it all up again.

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, Eddie stood up from the kitchen chair in hopes of tracking Chrissy down. He needed to explain shit to her, tell her that it wasn't her fault. That he assumed the worst because he was the worst.

He checked the small back patio first, but she wasn't there. Nowhere else on the first floor, either. Upstairs, Wayne and Jonathan were putting up the finishing touches on his recording studio, but Nancy was nowhere to be found.

"Can't imagine you'd be willing to tell me where your fiancée wandered off to?" Eddie asked as Jonathan carefully placed Eddie's acoustic This Guitar Slays Dragons on the wall.

"And find myself in the doghouse?" Jonathan asked with a quirked brow. "I don't have a death wish, Munson. Sorry."

That was fair. Nancy could be utterly terrifying.

Not as terrifying as Chrissy. But close.

The third guest bed – which had also seen some changes, and which was very obviously being occupied by his uncle during his stay – was also empty, so Eddie made his way back into their bedroom, praying she hadn't already made an exit somehow.

She was there, throwing a few things into an overnight bag.

"Chrissy––"

"Not right now," she said, her eyes trained resolutely on her task. The joy of his unexpected arrival turned to ash on his tongue as she avoided him completely. As she packed away a small portion of his life so she could leave him, however temporarily.

Temporary could become permanent so quickly.

"Please, can we talk?" he tried again, his voice cracking on the question. Splintering like cracked ice that would shatter completely if he put any more weight on it, plunging him into the frigid depths of her absence.

"Talk about what?" Chrissy asked, her voice hard. Like if she didn't keep it level, it would crash into the depths with him. "About how I was cheating?"

"Chrissy––"

"You didn't come home early to surprise me," she said, stilling the movements of her hands but still refusing to look at him, "did you?"

All Eddie wanted was to see that anger. That betrayal on her face. Because at least, if she looked at him, he'd have the opportunity to gauge whether he could fix this.

"No," he admitted, voice half caught in his throat.

Even from across the room, he could hear the ragged intake of her breath.

"I'm, um." She paused, taking another wavering breath. Shoving the last of her belongings into the bag and zipping it shut. "I'm going to stay at Nancy's tonight."

"Chrissy––"

"I'll let you know when I'm ready to talk." She pushed past him, into the hallway and down the stairs before Eddie could breathe.

And he just... watched her go. Staring after the bouncing of her hair until it disappeared.

When the front door slammed shut, Eddie dropped to his knees, staring after the space she'd occupied like he could will her to come back.

Everything in him was rioting. Screaming. Warring with him to go after her, to fix his stupid mistakes, to get her to understand that she was it for him. That he was an idiot, but fuck, he was an idiot who loved her.

Everything, that was, except his heart.

He wondered, distantly, over the roaring of blood in his ears, whether or not she even realized she packed it before she left.

(to be continued)

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer drabble #angst #hurt/comfort #but i'm still only giving hurt lmao

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allthingsfangirl101 · 1 month

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Urgent Conversations – Keys

I walked into Soonami's offices with my arms tightly wrapped around myself. As I walked through the cubicles, no one paid any attention to me. My heart jumped into my throat when I heard him arguing with Mouser.

"And that was the heartbreaking story of Blue Shirt Guy," I heard Mouser cheer. "The end."

I know more about Soonami and Free City than I should. That's what happens when you are dating Keys. He comes to your place after work and vents about Mouser and Antwon and the stupid shooter game he works for.

"Doesn't make sense," Keys mumbled. Any confidence I felt when I first arrived disappeared as they started walking toward me. I stopped walking and ducked into a random hallway as they walked past me, toward the employee lounge.

"What?"

"I just checked the server stats," he continued. "We killed Blue Shirt and the number of players online didn't change.

"It's just a glitch, man," Mouser said, unphased. "It's not a big deal."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "It just seems like that's something new, you know?"

"Keys, I know what you're thinking, okay?" Mouser cut him off. "You should not talk to Antwan."

"I just think it's important to be transparent, okay?" Keys defended himself as they walked into the employee lounge. It was this giant glass box in the middle of the office, so I could still hear them without a problem.

"No," Mouser said instantly. "Antwan is deep in the sequel launch. He's either not gonna care or he's gonna get pissed and then he's gonna blame us. So, I don't know what you haven't figured out about the whole situation. Also, aren't you some kinda MIT genius, indie game designer? What are you doing down here dealing with complaints?"

"That, Mouser is a long and pathetic story involving failed dreams, desperation, and a mountain of college debt. You do not wanna hear about that."

"You're absolutely right," Mouser smirked. "That story sounds horrible and boring and full of white privilege. Don't talk to Antwan."

Mouser froze when he saw me. The smirk on his face made my stomach sink. "Umm. . . Keys?"

"What?" He sighed, his back facing me.

"I think someone is here to see you."

Keys turned to look at him but saw me over Mouser's shoulder. My heart jumped into my throat as I lifted my arm and slowly waved.

Keys eyes widened as he quickly put his coffee cup down and ran out of the employee lounge, toward me.

"Hey, you," I smiled weakly. I gasped when Keys grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the office.

"Baby, what are you doing here?" He asked once we had gotten to the elevators.

"I thought we could go to lunch," I said, slightly caught off-guard by his reaction.

"Y/N, you know I love going to lunch with you, but I can't," he said. "And I'm sorry, but you need to leave."

"But. . ."

"I could get in trouble," he sighed. "Antwan is really weird about guests in the office. I could get fired."

"Keys. . ."

"Please, Y/N, go home," he pushed. "I need to get back to work, okay?"

"Can we at least go get a coffee?" I asked.

"I can't, Y/N. You know how weird Antwan is."

"But. . . I really need to talk to you, Keys," I forced out.

"How about this," he said, looking over my shoulder, "I will pick up dinner on my way to your apartment and we can talk."

He kissed my cheek before starting to walk back into the office.

"It's urgent," I said, under my breath. When he reached the office door, I forced myself to speak up. "Please, Keys. It's really important and it can't wait. If I have to wait, I feel like I'm gonna. . ."

Keys turned around when my voice broke. His eyes widened when he saw the tears beginning to stream down my face. He ran over to me and gently grabbed my arms.

"What's wrong, baby?" He whispered.

"I told you. . . I really need to talk to you," I barely got out between the tears.

"Okay," he said instantly. "Let's talk about it, gorgeous. I'm sorry."

He grabbed my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers. I couldn't help but be a little surprised when he led me back into the office. He ignored Mouser's look as he led me through the cubicles to a conference room in the back.

He closed the door behind us and led me over to a small couch in the corner. He sat down, pulling me with him.

"What's on your mind, beautiful?"

"It's umm. . . Well, the thing is. . . I haven't been. . . I mean, this is just. . . It's a make or break. . ."

"Y/N?" He whispered as he reached up and moved a piece of hair behind my ear. "Talk to me."

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out.

I held my breath as I waited for his response. I tried to read his facial expression but I couldn't. My heart sank when he stood up and pulled me with him. I gasped when he threw his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest.

"This is amazing," he whispered as he held me.

"I'm so relieved you feel that way," I said, happy tears now falling down my cheeks. "I was so scared, Keys."

He slowly pulled out of our hug and studied me. "Did you think I'd leave you? That I'd just turn around and walk away from you and our baby?"

"I don't know," I stuttered. "I didn't know. All I did know was how scared I was the minute the test came back positive."

Keys leaned down and gently kissed me. He broke the kiss and kept his nose pressed to mine. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered. "And I will be right by your side the entire time. Nothing is ever going to take me away from you and our child."

Suddenly, a strange look flashed across his face. He took a small step back and studied me.

"Keys," I said, my voice suddenly soft. "Are you okay?"

My breath got caught in my throat when he slowly knelt down on one knee, my hands still in his.

"What are you doing?" I stuttered.

"Can't let our baby grow up without a dad," he chuckled. "Y/N, my darling, will you. . ."

"Wait," I cut off his proposal. "I love you, Keys. You know that. But. . ."

"But what?" He asked, not an ounce of anger in his voice.

"I don't want you to marry me just because I'm pregnant," I admitted.

Keys chuckled as he stood up and reached into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet. I watched as he opened it and pulled something out. My heart beat against my chest as he showed me an engagement ring.

"Since the day we met, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," he said. "I have been carrying this around since our one-month anniversary. So, yes, I am asking you to marry me after you told me you were pregnant, but I have wanted to marry you for a long time. I love you, Y/N and I can't wait to start our life together. You, me, and our baby."

I made him laugh as I threw my arms around him. He wrapped my arms around my waist, pulling me in closer.

"I love you, Y/N," he repeated.

"I love you so much, Keys," I whispered, happy tears streaming down my face.

After a few minutes of silence, Keys spoke up again. "You know," he whispered, "you never answered my question."

"Oh!" I gasped, giggling as I pulled out of our hug. Before I could answer, Keys grabbed my left hand and knelt back down.

"Y/N, the love of my life," he started again, "you mean so much to me, darling. All I want to do is make you happy. I will do whatever it takes to give you the life you deserve. You and our baby. I will take care of both of you. I promise. I love you so much, Y/N. Will you marry the man who loves you more than anything in the world?"

"Yes," I giggled. "I'd be happy to marry the father of my baby."

#walter mckeys #Keys #free guy #keys imagine #joe keery imagines #joe keery

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imsoquarky · 9 months

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OKAY IM GONNA TALK ABOUT TMNT MM NOW

WARNING FOR SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!! THIS IS A RAMBLE POST, I AINT TIPTOEING AROUND IT!!!

Also, probably gonna start making # for post types. I feel like I reblog so much stuff that it's hard to find my actual content-

♠️ - ♣️ - ♥️ - ♦️

Starting off the bat, everyone who said Rise lovers were gonna love MM were absolutely correct. I adored this movie with every fiber of my being and I really think it could bring new people into the TMNT fandom just as ROTTMNT did.

While I will always be sad that Rise did not get the merch it deserved, I am over the moon that MM is getting it. The toys I've seen and merch I've gotten are already extraordinary. For the most part they are very very well made and most of it doesn't look like they've seen their entire family be brutally ripped limb from limb.

But moving away from my opinions about merch which is a whole other bag of worms being the physical item lover I am. THE MOVIE WAS BEAUTIFUL!!!

The storyline, the characters, the voice acting, the line delivery, the writing, the comedy, and ofc most of all

THE ART!! OMG THE ART!!! I LOVED EVERY SINGLE BIT!!! I see so much dragging on the art of this movie because it's ugly BUT THATS THE WHOLE POINT!!! It's meant to be messy, asymmetrical, even uncomfortable at times. Every character is so vastly different from the last, including every single background character. Some of my favorite overall designs were Splinter, April, Stockman, Superfly, Mondo Gecko, and even that fuckin BEAST Superfly turned into at the end.

This was the first iteration I watched where Splinter started out as a rat, being only into the more modern media, I had no idea that he was originally a pet. I could go on and on about MM Splinter and that is what I am going to do. I LOVED HIM. SO MUCH. He was such a dad, and an absolute badass when he wanted to be. Kicking ass to save his sons and just worried out of his mind about them. Despite his distain for humans, he was willing to take their help when it was offered. Instead of reprimanding his sons right then and there, he'd give them a hug and make sure they were safe beforehand. And when he saved them from getting their blood taken (I'm not calling it milking, please don't make me omg- /lh), he was like "I told you so!" but not in like.. a toxic way?? I never thought Splinter would end up as my favorite of any iteration, yet... here we are.

But y'all probably aren't all that interested in my gushing about Splinter yeah? Let's talk about the turtles, going from my favorite to least favorite (not to say I don't absolutely love them all, I just like some more than others.)

Raphael and Donnie are tied, but I'll start with just Raph. Raphael very much reminded me of when I was younger. Down to the struggled with volume & um... well, anger issues. Deep down, he loves and cares about his brothers, but he wants to branch out and meet new people. It's not that he doesn't want them to be there when he dies, it's that he wants to know other people outside of them. He loves them, but it's only natural to not want to ONLY have them.

Donatello was a silly guy, lots of playful jabs at his brothers and I just loved him. Also, the guy can DRIVE. Technically, being old enough, most places I know you can get a learners permit, so he probably realistically could drive. Despite complaining about having a "giant stick" much like 2012 Donnie, I found myself less annoyed by his complaints. Maybe I'm bias? Who knows. Point is, I loved him.

Leonardo, like Raph, was extremely relatable. With his upbringing and having a very anxious father, it makes sense to have such chronic anxiety. I swear, sometimes I feel like a mix between MM Leo and MM Raph. While ofc, I wasn't a fan of the little crush on April, it's not unrealistic. This is the first girl they've met and he has dreams of getting a girlfriend, obviously a 15 year old like that is gonna fall head over heels for the first girl he sees. Hell, when I first found out girls could like girls I honestly wasn't much different. (Ofc, I'm not a girl anymore, but that's besides the point here). But April shutting him down at prom was a relief, I'm hoping it just stays as a little puppy crush. It was handled SO much better than 2012 ever did, and I'm standing by that.

Now Michelangelo. Mikey was the SWEETEST OMG. Him and Mondo were an adorable duo and I'm hoping in future content we get more of them. Also, what is with Mikey and almost getting hit with cars in this film? I think the mans needs to keep away from the streets because he's like the critters down here in Kansas, very bad luck with cars. Only reason he's probably my least fav here is because I guess I don't have much to say about him, like, specifically?

Anyways. That's a lot of rambling, someone please talk to me about MM.

#tmnt #tmnt 2023 #tmnt mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem #clem's rambles

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doodle-pops · 6 months

Text

Sit Still, Look Pretty

Ecthelion x reader

Kinktober 2023: Bondage

Warnings: fem!reader, bondage, blowjob, dom–sub dynamics, sub!reader, dom!Ecthelion, manhandling, rough sex, fingering, spanking, I feel like there’s an authority kink in there somewhere, a slight brat taming

Words: 3.9k

Synopsis: Bondage was the best idea to indulge in something new and to Ecthelion’s joy when a meeting leaves him frustrated by its unimportance, he returns home to reunite with his blessed gift left unattended hours ago, sitting still, waiting impatiently and looking pretty.

List of Requests

“Don’t you look spectacular?”

That simple praise was enough to tantalise and irk you beyond your capability. Spending more than four hours bound to the headboard in beautifully intricate designs carefully and strategically wrapped in places to keep your erogenous zones hidden yet stimulated on the low with gentle motion. It started with your hands carefully tied to the posts on either end of the headboard, soft and silky blue elven ropes which stretched infinitely over your wrists to form complex knots and loops down your arm, over your back, chest and torso, further down your thighs and calves, bounding them together and ending around your ankles. You were gift–wrapped like a self–made present in delicate yet sturdy knots, unable to find reprieve no matter how torturous time passed as you waited impatiently for release.

Searching with every slight twist and turn you could make for the rope to rub against your skin or press your thighs together for stimulation was hopeless. There wasn’t enough pressure to build, only create and edge yourself until you gave up out of disappointment. Though, it wasn’t frustrating for Ecthelion upon his completion and return after a gruelling three–hour meeting; it was magnificent and heavenly to enter his slightly shadowed chamber and listen to the sniffles and cries of his beloved, fighting for satisfaction from the agreement of the said position you now rested in.

Head snapping over to meet his silvery grey orbs, simmering in the shadows beside the door, you whined louder in an attempt to hurry things along. But this was Ecthelion, a man with unlimited patience to stretch the simplest activity into hours. To imagine the length of time this would be on trial for was unimaginable, you didn’t want that torture any longer, just be placed out of misery for stupidly agreeing to his idea from the very start. If you had gotten a warning that his plan was to abandon you for hours to later return and deliver the foulest skills, you have asked him to extract the long wait and get on with the plan. But there wasn’t much you could do…or say when his cock was down your throat and him claiming he was frustrated by today’s unimportant meeting.

How perfectly did his plan fall into place and intertwine with one another?

The gurgles and choking sounds of his cock sliding in and out your throat while he was mumbling something along the lines of ‘why don’t you attempt to complain now’. You knew exactly the type of headspace he was in from the tone of voice he was using and the grip of his hand woven in your hair, grabbing everything into a makeshift ponytail. The veins on his arms stood prominently and ready to burst, a combination of the immense pleasure and his annoyance from your complaints the moment he walked through the door. Your inability to understand the magnificence and beauty in making a moment last a lifetime genuinely irritated the hell out of him, not to mention the pointless meeting. Such combinations only urged his desire to forgo the original plan of lavishing you in ultimate pleasure and instead, placing his before yours until you quit whining.

“What was that darling?” he groaned and yanked your head off his cock. Saliva followed and left behind a string attached to his tip and your swollen lips. The head of his cock remained red and engorged from all the focus you placed before he grew tired and pushed the rest of your mouth down to swallow it all. It was repetitive for him to constantly remind you that he was never too much or too big for you to handle; perfectly designed and made for you. All that was needed was some incentive. “Are you still complaining about making you wait?”

There wasn’t a chance to respond when he tapped the tip against your lips with the unspoken command to open. With ease, he filled your mouth with most of his length bringing a slight burning stretch to your lips as you fought to keep him seated comfortably. Once he was sure of your preparation, your head was bobbed back and forth his length. If it was one thing to take notice of when you entered the state of intimacy with Ecthelion, was that he enjoyed having his cock sucked over sex whenever there was stress in his life. It avoided arguments and worrying when you discovered the true nature behind the reclusive persona he displayed. To witness how loose and whipped he became whenever your pretty lips were wrapped around him and those starry eyes, filled with tears looking up at him was a spectacle.

With every slide of your mouth along his cock, the obscene sounds of the action reverberated and left an enigmatic melody only the both of you enjoyed. And it only seemed to increase his tempo and vigour and bring a change to his motions. From your head being moved, it was switched to holding your head fixed and driving himself freely with enthusiasm and stress–free.

“I can never get enough of your mouth!” he grunted a while taking his time to ease himself out to relish in the sensation of every vein being kissed by your swollen lips. “You look so pretty like this, eyes teary with my cock in your mouth. Perfect way to ease my stress,” he continued with a self–aware smirk, “I told you I had a reason for making you wait. You just don’t know how to be patient, doll.”

The sight of him on his feet, planted into the mattress and towering over your immobilised figure fastened to the headboard, head tossed backwards and an ebony waterfall trickling down his back developed your stimulation. The slow build–up of your arousal collecting between your folds and being unable to reach down or shift your thighs together to dissolve the ache only increased with his guttural moans. They resonated from the back of his throat, deep within his chest whenever his tip collided with the back of your throat. Though, it didn’t matter how many times you prepared yourself for the deep thrusts of his cock that far, your stomach always lurched.

Rapidly pulling away and his eyes reflecting concern, his right hand ushered to cup your chin and tilt it upwards. “Take your time, breathe in and out slowly,” he guided ever so patiently and caringly. The touch of affection throughout the sinful act always left you confused about how easy it was for him to switch character as though it were a playact.

Being the good girl you were and thoughtfully following his instructions while meeting his playful eyes, you took in deep breaths and exhaled with tears escaping your eyes. Your lashes were soaked from all the gaging and not to mention, all the whining from your displeasure at being left like some doll. “Good girl, keep it up. You’re doing a good job,” he continued praising and though it antagonised you to your core as he turned this into some pet–play, your erratic heartbeat betrayed you.

All the soft and gentle whispers of ‘good girl’ and ‘keep going’ were enticing you further and breaking all your restraints. The physical urge to pounce on him like a wild animal was unfathomable. It was worse when he towered like an ethereal being, stripped and left in his natural physique, all those years of fighting and protecting his people and you; he desired to be given the best treatment…if he wasn’t being mean by leaving you in solitude for hours. Your arms jerked frantically against the headboard and fingers twitching for break free of the torturous device he laced you in. By now, you undoubtedly had grown a few extra muscles from all the force you were placing into tearing free.

Finally catching your breath and taking a defined and longing hard stare into his eyes, you spoke up. “Am I being patient enough now? Are you not satisfied with your delightful teasing, Ecthelion,” you sternly said with dissatisfaction your tone echoed in his ear, making a delightful flicker of fire appear in his eyes. To use his name so freely without a title or when not moaning during anticipatory moments like this was an unspoken rule. You knew how he enjoyed his name being used only when you moaned it or when ‘Lord’ or ‘Sir’ was attached.

“Well, when you complain so much about my choice of pleasure for us both, I have every reason to still not be satisfied,” he sneered.

Then suddenly, the knots around your wrists secured to the behead were being undone with haste. His nimble fingers, skilful with the sword and other delightful acts were excellently unfastening your knots before roughly yanking you further down the bed to meet the edge. His movements were aggressive as he remained unspoken and moved around you fervently, carrying the rich and silky elven rope in his hand like a silent warning of some unknown action. Such was your demise for your words when being flipped onto your stomach like a ragdoll without warning, and having your hands being tugged behind your back to be reunited with the rope around your wrists once more.

“Ecthel—”

“Silence!” His authority surged through the roof as he grew tired of your complaints, ready to take affirmative action.

There wasn’t a moment to lose once the rope was secured around your wrists, as his hands undid the knot which bound your calves to the back of your thighs. Coming undone and falling off the edge of the bed, toes barely touching the carpet the way he liked, giving you less reign to move around and squirm away from his cock. However, he still kept the rope fastened around your ankles to keep you situated from attempting to kick up a fuss.

Standing behind and taking in your splendour, admiring the work of art he adorned your body in, not to mention the piece of diamond necklace he slipped on during the entire décor, he was appeased. Such was the etherealness of your true beauty, the way you ought to be in his sight for him to worship or steal pleasure from. There was no other way that defined your role as his partner and lover until you were perfectly engaged in ropes specially handcrafted for your needs and wants.

Hand outstretched and running along the curvature of your spine, he scoffed at the squirms your body reacted under the attempts at escaping the torture. His fingers grazed every fissure wanting to feel your skin under his palm and know that he held control over your body—you moved accordingly to his touch no matter how much you attempted to resist the urge. It was a pity that the treatment you wanted came with an extra side of patience and time, your least favourite gifts—when it was being condoned upon you, of course.

“I could marvel at your perfection every day and never tire of seeing the same image,” he whispered delicately once the fingers of his left hand reached for the loops around your midback and hoisted you upwards to meet his ear. The moment his lips collided with the tip of your ear, he blew cool air onto it and bit down to enjoy your shudder and gasp. “I would hate to punish a beauty like you, so ethereal and presented like a blessing for my taking… However, things must be sorted out, like your manners.”

At the same time, you weren’t aware that his other hand had made its way to rest against your ass until the sting of the aftermath from the slap resonated and burned. Your gasp was stuck in your throat, unable to squeeze the first cry out; even as the second one came about, you could barely choke out a moan or whine. Being spanked by Ecthelion was always a joyride because it was done for his pleasure and out of punishment’s sake, and at the same time, they appeared unexpectedly.

“Count, doll, and let’s not mess up,” he reminded before bringing his calloused hand firmly down once more to leave a welt upon the same spot from earlier.

“One, Sir. Thank you.” You winched from the unknown tenderness you experienced from his rough hands as they left a long–lasting sting. Shutting your eyes as you heard the swoop of his hand cutting through the air before it collided with your opposite cheek, you inhaled and counted again. “Two, Sir. Thank you.”

Slap!

“Three, Sir. Thank you.”

Slap!

“Four, Sir. Thank you.”

Pausing before he delivered the fifth slap, his voice rang out again, this time with a question. “How many should I give you for your manners?”

You bit the inside of your mouth, inhaling and exhaling because you were mentally panicking about giving him a suitable answer to his question. Feeling like your brain was fumbling with a coherent response, you blurted out something randomly. “However many that satisfy you, My Lord.”

“You have a keen sense of spoiling me with the utmost respect, darling,” he sighed with his heart full of mirth. “I cannot deny that request, however, I can relish in the never–ending idea of having my way.”

Before you knew it, his hand made its way between your thighs to slip between your folds and plunge into your cunt. The yelp that escaped your throat provoked your body to bow away from his chest once he wasted no time in going after your sweet spot. His fingers pressed endlessly against the area, absentminded of the excess arousal leaking down his palm and wrist the faster he moved. Because of his ferocity, the flow of arousal became substantially overwhelming leading to small squirts of your juices cascading down your thighs and his wrists. But to Ecthelion, that was the least of his concerns, he wanted you to eat from the palm of his hands.

Hoisting you upward once more with an aggressive tug, your back returned to his chest and his lips were able to fill your ear with more obscenities. “For someone who likes to complain a lot, that’s a big, awful mess you’ve just made,” he began with the most patronising, sickeningly sweet tone he could muster, “should I complain about the mess you made or accept it and be satisfied, hm sweet girl?”

But you weren’t able to muster or choke out a response to coherently answer, the only replies he got were managed sobs and pants as he abused your sweet spot like it was a candy store. The relentless plunging of his fingers twisting and crooking as though it were a game for him, drove you insane. You were standing upon the edge of a knife and your sanity was slipping from your fingers the more he pursued without a care for your mentality.

Displeasure seeped through his veins at the lack of a formal response which provoked another rough tug against the rope. “When your Lord is speaking to you, doll, answer with words and manners. Are we clear?” he stated demandingly and waited patiently until a small ‘yes, sir’ came out in the sound of a squeak. “See, that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”

Hanging by a thread as you slowly slipped away into a place of no return, you struggled to squeeze out a reply. “N–No, My Lord.”

Loving your cooperation, he rewarded you with the removal of his fingers from your cunt and smearing it all across his cock before he aligned it with your slit. Giving your body a slight tilt forward for his cock to easily slip between and run through your folds to collect any remaining arousal upon his tip, he dragged himself back to your entrance and pushed in without a second to waste. Not giving you any reaction time to savour the longingness of his cock, his hips slapped against your ass as he pummelled away, returning to knock your sweet spot out of the park.

“Oh, fuck! S–Sir, too deep!” you squealed out and his reply was laughter.

His speed and agility for someone who still had a massive frame was undeniably phenomenal. The motion and fluidity of his body, the sensual rolls of his hips and his ability to angle his body to fit all the fissures in yours always increased your pleasure. You couldn’t understand the logic behind his prowess no matter how many times you have him shaping you into complex forms. An elf lord, the simplest and most reclusive of them all, and no one would figure that he was an animal behind doors. Authoritative, yes, and also demanding and sinister when his cock acted like a demon on overtime with the purpose of devouring the innocent.

You were aching and crying from the lack of touch that was normally exchanged during such moments, and with your hands bound behind your back, there wasn’t a chance. Your fingers were twitching endlessly out of desperation and frustration, whines were being emitted, but not only from the pleasure. All you wanted was to feel his arms and run your fingers down his back as he gave you his all, feel the flex of his muscles against your chest and how it grazed against your nipples. The heat emitting from his flesh or the sweatiness as his tempo built was necessary. Your desire for the physical touch drove you mad, and him denying you—when he knew—was excruciating.

“P–Please, let me touch y–…you,” your whined, curling your head into your chest.

Unfortunately, your plead was laughed off by your secretively daring husband. “My little doll wants to touch me. I thought you were in agreement about being tied up? Don’t like the idea anymore?” he mocked without changing his tempo and maintaining the power behind his diabolical thrusts. Each one knocked you out of the park and your air out of your lungs. “You want me to untie your hands, darling? Beg.”

Fuck.

Now was not the time to throw a tantrum at his command but for Eru’s sake, you wanted to cry at the demands he was making. Why must he turn everything into some complex game?

“T–Thel, please don’t—oh fuck!” your sob was cut off by a sudden yelp as the tip of his length began to constantly aim for your sweet spot. Direct and affirmative, full of control and power, he refused to stop knowing that you were on the urge of coming soon once he continued his pace.

Listening to the switch–up from songs of begs and pleas to moans and groans, which were pleasant to his ear, his right hand came from the front to pinch your clit. It earned him a series of shudders before your head was flung against his shoulder. “Are you going to beg or are you giving up and letting me have my way?” he enticed with a gentle kiss to your earlobe, taking the sensitive nob between his lips and flicking his tongue over it. “Are you going to be an obedient girl and let me fuck compliance into you? Are you going to sit still and let me make you look pretty?”

His words were suffocating the more they filtered into your body. You couldn’t catch a break from the rollercoaster ride he was sending you on. One minute he wanted you to accept his reason for prolonging his actions, then he wanted you to beg, now submit to his desire and leave him to his devices. There wasn’t anything left to do than to take the pleasure he condoned and appreciate the fact that he was still reasonable to not deny you his touch as he normally would.

Recoiling and pushing your ass outwards to meet his hips, the sound of sweaty skin and his balls slapping against your thighs quickened. The only reasonable solution to your desperation was to give leeway, adore the pleasure and support him through the choices he decided.

“D–Do whatever y–…you want, please! J–Just fuck me, Thel!” Giving up your attempt at throwing a tantrum to demand a say and not end up on the wrong side of him, you relinquished your attitude and gave him freeway to return to the original purpose of his plan.

And how did he grin and howl at your submission. Without wasting a second and a moment to lose, Ecthelion focused all his efforts on getting you to cum around his cock instead of denying you an orgasm. It was the original plan should you resist relinquishing control—making you work to earn it.

“You have no idea how proud I am, doll,” he began, “when all you had to do was let me take care of you. Don’t resist it, your body knows that I’m supposed to care for it. Just relax and let me pleasure us both.”

And so he did. His fingers forwent rubbing intricate patterns on your bundle of nerves and focused on tweaking the tiny nub to earn convulsions and shivers while he rocked and gyrated his cock deeper with each building plunge. There was no end to how serious he was about ensuring that he took care of you once you didn’t fight him for control and tempered your attitude. Pleasure was always at your fingertips and Ecthelion was willing to condone any amount you wanted. He loved you too much to deny you what you genuinely required; hence his reasons for making you beg—a chance.

With feral instincts, he drove his cock back into you, pounding away at your heat. Sweat running down his chest and dripping onto your back, he dipped his head down to plant kisses and nip at the skin. Hissing as his teeth came in contact with your skin, you arched your back. Every touch from him left a trail of goosebumps. Pounding away at the insides and turning them into jelly, you silently screamed as you felt the muscles in your lower abdomen clenching. Close. Sobbing into the air and crying out in pleasure, your hands scrambled and fought to grip something before they felt the touch of Ecthelion’s hands. He had released his grip on the loop and rushed to give you a sense of comfort as he drove you towards your orgasm.

Your body jerked and twitched violently from the extra sense of touch as his hands gripped yours. At the same time, he followed the same pattern which reciprocated your reaction to his feverish pounding. There was silence as you stilled, body seizing up and clenching into a ball before his grunts were emitted first and your gasps of his name followed sweetly. He felt your walls clenching around him as you came, the small spasms and contractions of your walls around his cock made him swear as you milked him dry. Holding his position above you for some second, Ecthelion waited until he was sure had given you all his cum before pulling out and gingerly placing you onto the bed.

Hands reaching out to immediately untie your bonds were halted by your tedious, raspy voice. “Wait, wait! Not yet!” you yelled. “Leave it; you can leave it.”

Confusion became visible and despite his breathlessness, he had the energy to still squeeze words out in the form of a response. “I thought you didn’t want to be tied up, you wanted my touch?”

“No, I like being tied up and yes I wanted to touch you, but you don’t need to remove the bonds,” you corrected with short breaths as you attempted to turn onto your side and meet his face. “Just let my hands be free, that’s all.”

“…So round two then?”

“Absolutely.”

Masterlist

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