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nereidprinc3ss · 14 days

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do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

part one | part two

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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daosies · 4 months

Text

"stop looking at me like that."

"like what?"

they can't help but stare at you.

luka, jing yuan, gepard, dan heng ♡ gn!reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of love (crude imagery), pre-established relationship, reader is a nameless (dan heng's part)

notes: Can u tell my fav based on how much i write for them? (Its luka)

no matter where you are, luka's azure gaze will always find its way to you. even when he's in the midst of one of his matches, luka can't help but sneak a tiny (that, in reality, is not so tiny) glance at you, eager for your approval.

such a "tiny" glance lands him on the floor, his opponent landing a punch square on luka's jaw. pain reverberates throughout his body, sending waves of heat rushing to his face.

"ouch," he groans, narrowly avoiding another hit. he recovers quickly, his gaze now fixated wholly on his opponent.

adrenaline courses through his veins, his movements smoother than usual as luka apprehends his opponent in a matter of seconds. even as he's in the midst of putting someone in a headlock, his vision blinded by the lights of the fighting rink, luka's eyes find you.

he doesn't know how to explain it—his eyes are just naturally drawn to you. no matter where you are, luka will find you, and he will adore you. even if the spotlights blur his vision, just your silhouette is enough to satisfy him.

(maybe, when he was created, and when the aeons pieced together bits of his eyes, they carved his irises with the intention of beholding you. maybe, when luka was blessed with sight, it was because the aeons wanted him to witness you.)

even now, as the referee raises his arm in order to declare his victory, luka searches for you in the crowd. his grin widens as he waves at you with his free, mechanical hand. luka adores you; it's evident in the glimmer of his azure eyes and the way he immediately rushes to celebrate with you.

"i didn't think you'd come,"—but he'd still search for you anyway—"i'm so glad you did!" luka rubs the back of his head bashfully, the adrenaline pumping throughout his body beginning to wear off. only now does luka realize you're there, and that you just watched him fight!

his eyes never leave your frame. luka observes you under the muted lights, fluorescent bulbs flickering as if they became anxious in your presence. he supposes that he's not your only admirer, with the way the lights dim and the crowd's cheers fall silent, the way the world quiets to heed your words.

(what he doesn't realize is that the lights never dimmed, that the crowd never quieted. luka felt things that never happened, he envisioned a spotlight on you that never existed—but to him, it did. the world really did wait for you.)

"you were great out there, luka!"

you smile, and luka feels something flutter within him. his heartbeat travels from his chest, suddenly echoing throughout his body, making itself known even in the tips of his fingers and the rush of his ears.

something flutters within him, and luka thinks he's fallen for you. again.

"interesting move," jing yuan states. he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand, his lips curling into the slightest of smiles as he stares at you shamelessly.

"you weren't even looking at the board."

he chuckles. "you got me."

despite being caught red-handed, jing yuan's amber gaze never leaves your face. his eyes trace over the flutter of your lashes, the bridge of your nose, memorizing the features he's already so used to. the features that you're sure he's seen a thousand times before.

even with your piercing glare, jing yuan continues to marvel at you, not bothering to hide the way his pupils scrutinize your frame. he stares at you like he can see your soul, like—within the depths of your irises—he can see your dreams, your wishes.

"move a piece," you say, unamused. "and stop staring."

"i'm not staring," jing yuan responds matter-of-factly. he continues to observe you, never tearing his gaze away. you shrink under the general's gaze, suddenly becoming self-conscious of the way you sit and the way you exist.

jing yuan notices this, and he frowns.

"why are you doing that?" he asks. his index finger comes up to poke your forehead, urging you to ease the furrow of your brows.

"'cause the so-called chess master isn't making a move," you comment blandly. jing yuan chuckles.

"just pretend the so-called chess master,"—he still doesn't look down at the board—"is thinking. and isn't looking at you."

"you're making it kind of difficult to do so," you respond, unamused.

"give me five minutes." jing yuan pauses. "actually, ten will do."

"make a move!" you exclaim impatiently, pointing at the table in order to redirect jing yuan's attention. he feigns ignorance to your frustration, opting to observe the pout of your lips instead.

"cute," he mutters, not caring if you hear.

"are you even listening?"

"yeah," he says; it comes out more like a dreamy sigh rather than a proper response. with soft, adoring irises and a sickly sweet smile that makes you wonder if it's fake, jing yuan looks as if he has been possessed by cupid himself.

"ugh, why do i even try with you?"

jing yuan hums. "twenty minutes."

gepard swears he isn't staring at you on purpose.

but the more he looks at you, the more he notices. he notices the way you furrow your brows whenever you concentrate, the way your eyes twinkle when talking about something you enjoy. gepard notices the way you bite your bottom lip whenever you're frustrated, the way you tilt your head when you listen to someone speak.

aeons, he thinks, watching you exist, aeons. gepard swears he isn't staring at you on purpose—it just so happens that his gaze is on you. it just so happens that his gaze is always on you.

it's not his fault, really!

"hello? geppie?" serval says, waving her hand in front of the man's awestruck eyes. he blinks in embarrassment, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he looks down at the countertop, observing the splinters of wood with utmost attention.

"yes, serval?" he replies, struggling to find his voice. he winces at the way it sounds, the way his voice seems to dismember itself in your presence. gepard hates the way he acts around you, the way he becomes conscious of things like the way he walks, the way he talks.

it's humiliating, really, the way you reduce gepard to a flustered mess. he hates the way your eyes make him weak in his knees, the way you smile at him with that smile of yours. it makes him want to love you and love you, loving 'till the end of time, 'till the stars fall.

gepard wants to love you so much it hurts. he wants to love you to the point where his love turns into a knife, carving his heart out, taking it apart by its chambers. he gives you one chamber, then two, then three, then four, and all of a sudden, he's missing a heart—but what does it matter, whether or not he has a heart? in the end, it belongs to you.

"looks like someone's got a crush," serval says with a smirk. her vibrant cerulean eyes follow her brother's, fixating on your expression as you flip through pages of a travel guide gifted by the nameless. she doesn't notice how your lips tug into a frown, how your brows furrow ever so slightly.

gepard does, though. gepard seems to notice everything about you.

"don't say it here...!" gepard exclaims, trying to keep his volume low. serval, on the other hand, has no regards for secrecy. she slaps her hand against the counter, getting a good, hearty chuckle from her brother's beet red face and the way his eyes are wide with panic.

"right, right!" she laughs, clutching her stomach (gepard doesn't get why she's acting like he just made the best joke in the universe—it's not that funny). the floorboards creak with her movements, as if they too were finding amusement in gepard's predicament. the captain's gaze is not lingering in front of him for long, though, because in a matter of seconds, he finds himself staring at you. again.

he thinks you look ethereal basking in the daylight, the golden glow clinging to your skin. gepard thinks that, like him, the sun adores you. it's in the way its rays trace over your features, adorning your eyes with fragmented light, slipping your irises in between its shattered reflections and making you its own.

your eyes glimmer.

"dan heng!" march 7th yells, slapping the aforementioned man's back harshly. "stop staring and get working! [name] doesn't like useless men!"

dan heng bites his tongue, swallowing his words (and insults) as he returns to wiping down the train's furniture. it was your idea to help pom pom out by dedicating a day to clean up the express, which dan heng thought was admirable.

they're thoughtful, he muses, absentmindedly scrubbing at a coffee stain left by one of himeko's five thousand mugs. really thoughtful. but dan heng already knows that—it's in the way your voice drops to a whisper whenever he's reading, the way you always buy him souvenirs and beverages from places you visit.

although you're a nameless like him, you often travel on your own accord, making stops as you please and wandering the universe as if it were yours.

(maybe it is, dan heng thinks, entertaining the idea, maybe the world really is yours. frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if it was. it would make a lot of sense, actually. how is it possible for things to be so beautiful, if not belonging to you?)

"useless men?" you suddenly echo from down the hall, appearing around the corner with a mop in hand and a bucket in the other. dan heng rushes to you, his palm outstretched as he urges you to give him the bucket and split the weight.

"o-oh," march stutters, suddenly becoming speechless, "f...fancy seeing you here!"

you raise a brow. "i live here?"

"is that so?" march echoes, laughing stiffly to herself. "how funny! i didn't know you could hear what i was saying..."

"only the 'useless men' part," you say, shaking your head. "what's wrong with useless men?"

"well, for starters," dan heng answers, "they're useless."

"that's okay," you respond. "sometimes, being useless is fun."

is their type useless men? dan heng wonders to himself, suddenly feeling insecure. should he put this bucket down? will you find him useless, then?

"so... you like useless men?!" march asks, pointing accusingly at you. dan heng grimaces—just why does march have to be astute in the worst of times? why did she figure out who dan heng liked, if she usually struggles adding decimals?

you blink owlishly. "uh, not really? i'm just saying they're not that bad."

dan heng's grip tightens around the bucket's handle. i can work with that, he thinks, suddenly strategizing.

"what's your type, then?" march questions, stepping closer to you. "blonde, perhaps? ginger? blue?"

she didn't say black hair, dan heng thinks, about to reach for a tuft of his own.

"maybe dark hair?" you respond, your eyes narrowed in thought. "i like it when they make it obvious they like me, though."

"like if they stare at you a lot?" march asks, leaning in.

"yeah!" you reply. "that'd be cute!"

"oh, good!" march exclaims, pleased with herself. "dan heng here does a lot of that!"

"what?" both you and dan heng say in unison. while your tone is confused, dan heng's tone is disbelieving, as if he really did not believe that march just outed him like that.

(march did, in fact, just out him like that.)

you exchange glances with the man, but much to your surprise, he's already staring.

something tells you he's been staring for a while, it's just that you only noticed now.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #gepard x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #luka x reader #gepard x you #gepard landau #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #dan heng x you #luka hsr

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kombuuuu · 11 months

Note

hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?

For the Soul (and the Heart)

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE

Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection

please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!

The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.

Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.

Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.

Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.

Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”

There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.

The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.

The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.

The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.

“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.

“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”

You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”

Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”

You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.

“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”

She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.

“Thank you, again.”

“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.

“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”

"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."

Miles glanced up in confusion.

“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”

“Why me?”

“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”

“She’s pretty, and around your age.”

“Ma, porfavor.”

“Ma, please.”

“Go.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.

You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.

There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.

The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.

People feared him, the violence he brought with him.

You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?

If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?

The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.

“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”

“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”

“Sí mamá, ya sé.”

“Yeah mama, I know.”

The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.

The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.

“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.

“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.

“I’m Miles, by the way.”

“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”

His lips upturned again at the compliment.

You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.

“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”

You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”

He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.

Like claws.

—

Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.

Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.

The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.

And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.

Miles was about the same, probably worse.

You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.

So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.

“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.

You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.

Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.

You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.

“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”

He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.

—

“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”

Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.

You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.

“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.

His voice had gone deeper, smoother.

“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.

He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.

The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.

“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.

“Of course, Mami.”

“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”

You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.

“Mm, it is.”

“And you’re here.”

He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.

He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.

“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”

“You too, Miles.”

“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”

He hummed.

“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

—

It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.

Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.

How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.

Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.

Every little thing.

He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.

He knew you felt the same.

Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.

And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.

He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.

You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.

—

Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.

Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.

It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:

Can you come over later?

He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.

And you did, swiftly replying;

okayyyy !!

I’ll pick you up at 7.

six…?

7, [Name].

>:(

Don’t be childish.

i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:

You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.

Your phone pinged again.

See you at six.

You smiled.

You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.

—

He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.

“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”

“Don’t apologise, Miles.”

You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.

“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”

You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.

You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.

You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You good, Chiquita?”

“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”

“Mmhm.”

You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.

“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”

He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.

“Maybe ask politely.”

You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.

“Miles.”

“[Name].”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s just a ‘please’.”

“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”

“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.

You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.

You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.

—

He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.

Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.

“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”

“Mm, thought you’d like it.”

“I do, so much.”

You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.

The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.

“My dad.”

Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”

He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.

Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.

He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.

There was no escaping his death.

So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.

He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.

“Come sit, vida mía.”

You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.

A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.

There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.

You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.

“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.

“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”

You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.

“Wh—.”

It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.

“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”

“It would.”

He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”

“Mm, we could—,”

He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.

“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”

“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.

“I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”

He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.

“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”

“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”

“Uhuh.”

“Miles!”

“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”

“Oh my goodness!”

—

And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.

Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.

But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.

It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.

—

YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣��‼️

thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife

(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)

#across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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aberooski · 1 year

Text

Been in not the most fun place mentally the last couple days but I felt a lot better today. I think taking a break from trying a failing miserably to look for a job helped 😅

#I've done nothing but play X-2 today and my soul feels healed #it's been nothing but feeling worthless and useless to the world the last few days #I really needed this break #I might actually try to writing something tonight #I haven't had the mental or emotional capacity to try but I'm hoping I can find my stride again #I wanted to have at least 2 chapters of the GX/Fatal Frame crossover done so I could start posting it on Halloween cuz ghosts #and then just kinda post it at my leisure whenever I got a chapter done because I miss posting things as I write them so they last a while #but obviously it's almost Thanksgiving and I'm still in like chaoter 1 so that tells u how bad it's been #I've got bits and pieces of 2 one shots now and notes for the Cinderella au but I haven't been able to really get into anything #revising Sons of The Stars doesn't really count to me honestly #I honestly need some inspiration or something but I don't even know #being majorly down in the dumps for a while will crush your creative aspirations like that I guess #abby's just rambling don't mind her

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jamminvroomvroom · 4 months

Text

something in the orange.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando can’t always have what he wants. and neither can you.

i’m so back! missed u xoxo i kinda hate this with a passion but i had to force myself to write something bc i was getting the writers jitters lmao. pls tell me what you think and what you want next! hugs

inspired by: something in the orange by zach bryan (ouch)

songs to set the mood: call out my name by the weeknd, all of evermore actually, leave the door open by the silk sonic

warnings: 18+!! minors, BEGONE!! smut, angst, wee bits of fluff, language, alcohol mentions, inappropriate workplace relationship (reader is an engineer @ mcl), slight age gap (r is older), mutual pining, mutual denial (kinda), unprotected sex (L bozo)

3.2k words

the first time it happens doesn’t really count.

you’re drunk and lando’s worse. tensions boil over at some after party, neither of you can bare it, and he’s shoving his key card into the slot of his door while he sloppily kisses your neck. you cannot take

any responsibility for your actions that night and disregard it as a write off.

explaining away the morning after, when you fuck him again, sober and begging, is a different story.

oh, well.

it happens again. and again, and again, and again.

different cities set the mood and the danger turns you on. you trade your mclaren administrated work shirt for lingerie, and your inhibitions for good sex.

he’s younger, just a couple of years between you, but he doesn’t show it. he makes you forget it, every single time he rearranges your spread limbs on a mattress. he makes you forget his age, and the fact that careers will be over as soon as another soul finds out what you get up to when the chequered flag falls.

lando makes it easy. a flick of the wrist and a curl of the tongue makes you sob, and he smirks into the crease of your thighs every time. and when it’s over, and you’re both spent under linen sheets, you can’t even regret it. not when he makes you laugh until you cry and keeps you warm as you drift off to sleep on the rare occasions that you let yourself stay.

it can’t continue. it can’t, you tell him and yourself. every morning after is punctuated with promises that this is the end. and every time, you manage without each other until the next race weekend, when he looks at you in that knowing way that makes your thighs clench.

lando can’t think straight.

he never can when he slides between your thighs. it feels like home.

you’re somewhere in the middle east, he can’t actually remember where right now, not when he pushes deeper and you clamp down around his cock, so hard that he chokes out a shaky breath.

“how do you feel even better every time?” lando groans, grinding into you nice and slow.

you slur out a moan in response, tipping your head back even further as you do. it gives him the perfect opportunity to burrow into your neck, kiss over your collarbone, rock into you harder.

everything is warm, slick. this whole situation, it’s a well oiled machine now. lando sends a text and you turn up five minutes later. he ushers you into the room and then, clothes leave a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. what was once a place holder, a way to get some after a shitty race, had become something to look forward to, something that made his heart race. the anticipation, the danger of you made him weaker than he ever had been.

at first, he hated the hold you had on him. it didn’t mean that he could end this, though, not when he couldn’t help but stare at you in the garage. not when he was transfixed by the glimpse he’d get of your collarbone under your work blouse, or the stray hairs that fell over your face when you were concentrating on the data screens.

“lando, i need- i need…” you gasp, trailing off as you arch even further into his sweat glistening body.

lando smirks, sliding a hand down your

body, pinching your nipple on the way. he already knows what you need. he finds your clit, teasing over it a couple of times.

you lock eyes, warning him to give you what you want. he just grins, licks his lips and continues faint glides over the bud. it sends shockwaves over your body, and you convulse underneath him. you writhe, and writhe, and whimper and keen as your orgasm washes over you. his eyes snap shut, barrelling into you as the pleasure hits.

then, there’s silence.

he lays on top of you while you both return to planet earth, no sound but pants of breath and a soft hum from you when he finally pulls out. you smile softly when you rise from the bed, swinging your shaky legs over the side to stand.

“you staying?” lando breathes. he’s laying on his front, arms flexed as they cross beneath his head.

“not tonight, lando.” you tilt your head apologetically, voice soft and sweet. he frowns. you ignore it, and search for you underwear.

“come on, stay.” he sounds desperate to his own ears, cringing at the way the words come across, but your filter it out. you’ve become an expert at navigating - and more often than not, ignoring - the emotional strings that he tugs on. the ones that attach to your cold, cold heart.

“can’t. you’re gonna have the team here bright and early. ‘m not risking jon seeing me here when he comes to wake you up.” you explain, jumping into your jeans as you tug them up your legs.

“he won’t care.” lando argues, childlike in his negotiating.

“i care.” you scold. you hear the soft thud of his head hitting the pillows. you know you’ve won this round.

lando’s quiet for a while after that, letting you dress yourself. as you’re searching for the bag that you can’t remember if you brought or not, he springs from the bed, making a beeline for the door. you think he’s being gentlemanly, but quickly realise you’re being foolish. the fucker is blocking your exit.

“lando.” you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, unimpressed.

“i know, i know, i’m gonna let you go. i just…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, pondering his next words.

“you just…” you usher him along.

“i’ll let you go if you promise to have dinner with me over the summer.” he smirks.

“are you… have you lost the plot?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

he tried this, sometimes, tried to get you to go on a date, or get you to do something alone that didn’t involve engineering or a surface that you could fuck on. you’d naively thought he was past this.

“can we just try?” he gives you a look somewhere between i want you so bad and the infamous lando norris puppy dog eyes. lava heats your cheeks and your belly, and the butterflies come out of hibernation. you couldn’t deny, you wanted to try. but, at what cost?

“text me.” you murmur, gesturing for him to move.

“so, that’s a yes?” lando questions.

“text me, and i’ll think about it.”

he decides that he’s gotten the best possible answer out of you, and finally let’s you make your great escape.

you almost collapse on jelly-like knees the second the door shuts behind you. standing your ground with him was getting too difficult, too tiresome. the boy was hard fucking work, and he always got what he wanted.

you’d often daydreamed about him taking you out, getting dressed up nice to sip wine and eat too expensive food, and eventually getting undressed. you realised, however, that those kinds of thoughts were to be banished, after you got caught up in fantasies during a race and almost had the pit crew put mediums on during a bout of rain.

wanting him was dangerous. it could be career ending, reputation destroying, heartbreaking.

one date wouldn’t hurt, just to satisfy his appetite. he’d probably get bored eventually. you wouldn’t let it get further than one meal, one last night with him, and then it would stop.

one more time. just one.

you’re waiting on your sofa for the text that tells you he’s arrived.

your hair is curled, messy. just how he likes it. you’re wearing something short and black. your high heel taps against the floor as you bounce your leg nervously.

he’d texted, just like you’d told him to, and then a date was set. just one dinner, one time only. you were gonna tell him that, too.

it’s a bit of fun, you think. dinner and shag. companionship. it was lonely on the road, and sometimes each other was all you could have. it made sense, you figured, that he had honed in on you. you’d done the same to him.

just when you think he’s late, there’s a knock on your door. you were an expecting an “i’m here” text, not the full package. after all, this date was just a formality, right?

you try not to shake as you make your way to the door. lando looks so good that you almost cave and say, “sure, let’s give this a go, eh?”. he’s wearing a shirt that fits painfully well, clinging nicely to a delectable frame. the buttons he’s left undone provide a gorgeous window to his collarbone and the necklaces that hang from his thick neck.

“you look beautiful.” he compliments, rakes his eyes over your body.

“don’t look so bad yourself.” you try to tease but it comes out flustered. you ignore the way his eyes light up.

“you ready?” he asks, you nod.

your heart flutters when he effortlessly takes your hand in his.

the restaurant is in the middle of nowhere, and you’re the only two people dining. maybe it’s because of the ‘closed’ sign that gets placed on the door when you arrive. so, he’s gone all out, you think. you’re shocked at how hard he’s tried to keep this private. maybe this isn’t the formality you think it is, maybe this isn’t his way of feeling better about meaningless sex. maybe it wasn’t as meaningless as you pretended it was.

he had you belly laughing within minutes, laying the charm on thick. wine and conversation flowed effortlessly and you were quickly regretting saying yes to this. you were in danger.

in a moment of silence, you catch his eye from across the table.

“you know, this is a one time thing, right?” you almost whisper. you almost kick yourself, why would you say that now? it doesn’t even phase him.

“that’s what you think.” he grins, devilish and stunning.

“i mean it.” you smirk.

“sure you do, honey.” he says, it sounds a lot like ‘game on’.

you stir, eyes slowly fluttering open. orange light washes over you, dancing in the pair of eyes you find staring back at you.

the eyes watching you sleep belong to the same person whose strong arms are wrapped around you, nice and secure.

you croak out a good morning, and he grins at how hoarse you sound. it was all his fault for making you whimper and scream, begging and crying for a release.

the date had gone really well.

“coffee?” lando offers.

“just the one, need to get home.” you bring things back to reality.

two coffees and four orgasms later, you head home.

the blurry pictures of you and him leaving the restaurant make you ill.

no one can quite tell it’s you, not yet anyway. twitter is ablaze.

faceless accounts call the blurry woman in the pictures the cruelest of names. you cry for hours, and then you stop for a bit, cry some more. rinse, repeat.

you pull on a jacket, scramble for your car keys. this time, you’ll mean what you say.

there’s a knock on the door.

when he opens it, you shuffle inside like you always do, coat hangs on the hook with a scarf to match. silence lingers until you reach the kitchen. the kettle hisses. you didn’t even know that he knew how to use one.

“this has to stop.” you say. emotionless. inside, agony sinks into every emotional cut and scrape. you don’t let him notice.

“i know.” he agrees. he’s seen the pictures, too. “okay.”

the kettle is forgotten, two mugs abandoned; he carries you to bed.

one last time.

two fingers loosen you up for him, drawing you steadily over the edge. he doesn’t stop there, no. he slows right down, letting you ride out your high, but only for a second. he speeds up once again, grinding his fingers into you at godspeed, and you feel your eyes dampen with tears.

your entire body glistens with sweat and your release, the overstimulation making your toes curl and your back arch. you wonder if the tears streaming down your face are just a result of the way his fingers are curling so deliciously against your walls, so good that it hurts, or if it’s because you know this will be the last time he gets his hands all over you.

“lando,” you cry, grasping at nothing. he’s got you naked in the middle of his bed, and he’s still fully clothed, kneeling between your spread thighs like a man on a mission.

his motivation is to make you stay, to make you regret the fact that once this is over, you’re choosing not to come back. his need for you, that raging desire that fuels your every encounter, it has only increased tenfold since the night of your date. but lando isn’t stupid, he knows that after those photos were published the brakes were on this… thing. this was his only chance to convince you to keep this going, but he was fighting a losing battle.

“what do you want, honey? you want me?” lando grunts, speeding up even more. you didn’t think that what he was doing was humanly possible, but the stars you saw and the way your body was practically levitating off the bed said otherwise.

“only gonna have me one last time? is that really what you want, baby?” he continues to run his mouth, crooning over you. you call out his name, begging. begging for another release, begging that you could stay here forever. with him.

and then you see white and god, and you convulse until you’re collapsing into the mattress. your vision is blurry from the tears and the haze and the unwavering emotional torment.

you grab at him, languidly pulling him in. it takes all the strength you have left to secure him, your feet shoving his jeans down his hips while your hands rip his t-shirt off. you’re keening, too sensitive and too needy. you’re agonising over his touch, you need him to sink so deeply into you, so that you can feel him when it’s over and you’re far away from what almost feels like home.

his breath shakes and his eyes gloss over when he pushes into you.

“let me stay like this, just for a minute.” he chokes out. you nod rapidly, your eyes squeezing shut. he kisses into the crook of your neck, panting and mumbling sweet, painful words over and over.

your hands run over golden planes of warmth and muscle, memorising every dip and crease of him. he slowly rolls his hips and your belly clenches, veins set alight. one of his hands scoop up up your wrist, and the motion creates a deep grind unlike anything you’ve ever felt. your wrists are pinned above your head and lando hovers over you so that he stays level, continuing that slow grind, hips hitting yours hard and slow.

he draws a low whine from the back of your throat, one that makes his hips stutter and your pussy clamp down on him as a pleasurable result. you can feel fingerprints forming around the tender skin of your wrists and you want him to dig in harder, slip into your veins and become a permanent part of you.

lando’s eyes are greyer than you’ve ever seen them, boring into your own. you don’t think you ever break eye contact, staring deep into his soul as he stretches every possible part of you. he doesn’t want this to end, you can’t pretend that you do, either.

he changes his angle slightly, long strokes replacing the short drags, but he keeps hitting deep. something possesses you to lean in, as much as you can given his hold on you, and you capture his lips in a kiss that takes him aback for a second. he melts into it, though, and then you’re chest to chest. tongues meet, and moans meld, your legs snake around him like vines.

“need you to come for me, honey. one last time, yeah? need you to feel good for me, baby.” lando mumbles into your mouth, wet and hushed. it’s overwhelming, and everything goes blank. all you are aware of is the burst of pleasure, his hold on your limp wrists, and two grey green eyes that are begging you to stay.

you get dressed quickly, whisper goodbye, and disappear out the door. something stops you, and you need clarity, for him more than for yourself.

you peek round the door, finding his unwavering gaze. your forehead creases, awkward anguish. the way you’re looking at him, deep and sympathetic, it makes you ache. this may well have to be the last time you look at him this intently. it stings.

“it’s better this way, you know?” you murmur.

lando nods, begrudgingly, yet obediently in defeat.

and then, once more, you’re gone and the latch on the door clicks somewhere far away in his apartment. he sinks into the bed, drowning in bed sheets and agony. his head thuds against the pillow and he stares out the window. the orange sunset makes his eyes burn. there’s something about the colour that makes him nauseous now that you’re gone.

a few days later, you’re in a meeting that you can’t focus on. he’s sat opposite you, not that you spare him a glance. it’s too painful.

you’ve been here for hours, your body becoming one with the office chair that you’re sinking deeper and deeper into.

yes, the car needs to be faster. yes, your heart hurts. yes, we need to up the strategy game.

you zone out, for the umpteenth time, losing yourself in the dark orange sky. it’s getting late. you crave sleep in your lonely bed. while you stare at the swirls and hues of warmth, you shiver.

lando, on the other hand, hasn’t heard a word said since he sat down. not when his eyes instantly find bruised wrists on the other side of the table. they match the bruises on his heart, the ones that you’d left behind when you’d grabbed it, stolen it from its solitude cage.

he watches you watch the sunset, and then the meeting is dismissed and everyone rushes home for dinner.

“who was that you took for dinner, then, noz?” one of the mechanics jeers at lando as you’re leaving the boardroom. those damned fucking photos would never let you sleep well again.

you’re a couple of steps ahead of them, ears perked up. you’re nauseous.

“no one you know.” lando laughs uncomfortably, waving it off. he sounds exhausted.

you fight with the revolving door and rush to your car. you scream as soon as the door slams and you’re in the drivers seat. you thrash against the steering wheel, and then you scream again.

when you compose yourself, and pull out of your parking space, you notice lando’s range rover ahead of you. when you get to the end of the drive, he will turn left, towards london, and you will turn right.

the devil on your shoulder murders the angel in cold blood, silencing the only voice of reason you had left.

when you reach the junction, you turn left, too.

yikes. anyways lmao

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane

removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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bunni-v1 · 6 months

Note

hii,

Can i request che‘nya, neige and rollo finding out you‘re a girl please?

(Just if u weite for em)

Freaking love ur serie 😍

Side Characters Find Out You’re A Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Rollo

Info: Che’nya, Niege, and Rollo x Reader

🍓Thank you! I'm glad people enjoyed this series so much, it was very fun to write. This is the last part I'm afraid, but I hope it is a fitting goodbye to what has been a very long-running series now lol. Excited to move on to other things!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing

Che’nya

-Oooooo, Che’nya knows something is up the moment he (creepily) stalks you and the others from the garden.

-His sniffer isn’t as good as Leona’s — he’s just a tomcat, after all — but he can smell that something about you isn’t right.

-Plus, he’s a master of bending the truth, he can see through your lie a mile away.

-Still, he has no reason to bother you about it — he doesn’t even know you.

-He just thinks you’re a little funny that you’d hide something as pointless as this.

-Doesn’t really have confirmation on it until he asks Cater at the tea party.

-Then he later asks Trey who is like ‘Yeahhhhh…’

-Again, he doesn’t really know you, but he does think you’re cute and stuff.

-He sees your around when he sneaks on campus, and he was happy to bump into you at the VDC.

-(He scored your number there, lets go Che’nya).

-Nah, you two don’t really get to interact until Noble Bell College.

-He’s excited to see you again, and really chats you up this time (everyone there thinks its weird, he literally has no reason to talk to you).

-You’re alone with him and Niege and Grim when he drops the bombshell of “A pretty girl like you should be wearing a dress, right?”

-You don’t know if Trey or Cater or even Riddle told him, but you were gonna deck them across the face the second you found out.

-Still, despite him outing you to Niege, he’s really only mildly annoying about it.

-He teases you and picks on you about it, but he’s more like an annoying older brother than a creep.

-He will hang it over your head though, because they way you get all huffy is funny and cute to him.

Neige

-Other than Che’nya— Neige really doesn’t suspect much.

-I mean, look at him and Vil. Feminine men is not his biggest concern.

-He respects you and your pronouns and he’s a real big sweetheart.

-He is… drawn to you, just a little.

-You’re different from the other students, and you managed to make friend with Vil, so excuse him for being a little curious.

-Despie Vil being vehemently against it, you and him exchange numbers and start talking casually.

-It’s pretty normal stuff, and it’s not like you’re talking every day, but you consider each other friends at the very least.

-You’re both very excited to see each other again at Nobel Bell College.

-Neige feels bad that you’re sort of forced to go and babysit, but he gets to see you again!

-You bump into him and Che’nya at the fesitval, and Neige is… notably weirded out by Che’nya’s overt friendliness with you.

-“He’s never this nice with people he doesn’t know — never. It’s so weird.” He tells you.

-You brush off his concerns, and you live to pay for it too.

-You and Neige were just chilling, talking, and hanging out for the first time in person and Che’nya walked over and joined the conversation.

-All is good until he drops the one-liner of a century, leaving both you and Neige in shock.

-You because how did he find out, Neige because oh my god you’re a woman.

-He feels even WORSE for you now.

-I mean, being the only woman at NRC has gotta be awful.

-He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, bless his soul.

-He just shrugs it off and also offers his room as sanctuary on the weekends if you need it.

-He does agree with Che’nya, though, you would look very pretty in a nice flowing ballgown!

Rollo

-Bless this little freaks soul. He is about as sheltered as Malleus and about ten times more evil.

-He, somehow, knows something about you is different from the get-go. Not just your inability for magic, no something more.

-Naturally, he is drawn to you, and evermore curious about you and your life at NRC.

-He, being observant, takes note that you are treated slightly differently by your fellow classmates.

-They are generally more respectful and courteous toward you — gentlemanly in some cases.

-It only makes his interest in you grow. What is it that is so special about you?

-Then he overhears a conversation with Niege and Che’nya, and it all makes so much sense!

-You are a woman, of course you are. No wonder you were so captivating.

-Rollo holds this card close to his chest — he needs not reveal his secrets.

-Malleus is fond of you — as are the other magicians here. That could be useful.

-This information could aid him in his ultimate plan — and he could be your savior from the beasts you live amongst.

-He reveals that he knows your gender in front of everyone at the festival, and takes you captive as his own.

-He is so diluted in thinking that he is your saving grace, and that what he is doing is so right and justified that he can’t hear you curing him out over his own thoughts.

-Obviously, you get saved by your friends and all is well, but now a whole lot of people who shouldn’t know you are a woman do, and Crowley has to do a LOT of PR work lol.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#che'nya x reader #che'nya twst #rollo flamm #rollo flamme x reader #neige leblanche #neige x reader

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j-jinxee · 3 months

Note

Ooo can you write about about how Alastor would use restraints, he’d defo get turned on by how helpless reader would look when they’ve got a chain wrapped around them, with his need for control.

PRISONER ☆

TYPE - Alastor x Reader

WARNINGS - restraints/being tied up, semi public sorta?, ownership, swearing, oral receiving, humiliation.

authors note - tysm for requesting!! especially for Alastor hehehe, hope u like ittt >:)

----------------------------------------------------

That night came back to you every time you got pulled down by that fuckers chain. The most regrettable night of your life, you were so far gone you really thought he'd help you. Making any deal while you were drunk was a bad idea, but making a deal with the radio demon?? Even worse. He's made you do sickening things for him in the past, all things you never would've done if your soul wasn't on the line; but nothing that made your stomach turn quite like this one.

You made the mistake of confronting him right before he went on the air. That pissed him off enough, and thought you needed a reminder of who you belonged to. Hence why you're tied up in his radio tower, chain around your neck, and screaming his name for all of Hell to hear.

Alastor made you crawl up to his radio tower, him holding the chain, then tied you up with dark sorcery, and clicked "start broadcast".

"Hello my dear viewers! Hope you're having a grand evening. Today will be a little different to my usual style of broadcast, but I trust you'll enjoy it nonetheless" His voice turned scratchy and demonic towards the end, making you nervous for what was to come.

The only luminance in the tower was the faint glow of the red sky, and the shine of Alastor's eyes. You had no idea how many people were listening right now, or what was even going to happen, you just hoped no one could tell it was you.

You swore you could smell his arousal. It was rare, but you could tell he liked seeing you chained up. He never expressed any romantic feelings towards you, only savage, animalistic needs to over-power you. You let him have his way, since there was nothing you could do about it, but this? This was a little past your limit.

Your hands were behind your back, legs bent, and whole body hoisted up. You had no clue what happened to your clothes, they vanished off your body when the ropse appeard around you. Your neck was angled slightly up from the floor, enough to see a little out the window, but not enough to hurt. That's when you felt him.

You gasped abruptly as you felt his hot tongue on your clit, "Ah!" It took you by surprise - to say the least. You obviously wanted to hold back your moans in order to keep some dignity... but, holy fuck he was good.

It was like being chained up increased the pleasure, you swore it'd never felt this good before. His tongue made you squirm, but squirming hurt, especially when you held back. You thought you may aswell give him what he wants instead of agitating him even more.

"Mmm- Fuck! Alastor please"

"Please what my dear?"

You didn't even know what you were asking for, you wanted to say please stop, but you knew you couldn't, it felt too good.

"Pl- Ah! Please don't stop!"

Yeah real good fucken choice, beg him to keep going and see where that'll get ya.

The next thing you felt was his tongue diving deep into your core, fuck. You knew he'd be skilled, but this was on a completely different level.

"Ohhh, fuck! I'm- I'm gonna cum, ah!"

Your legs attempted to collide, obviously being held back by the rope. As Alastor felt your thighs start to shake, he only increased his pace, sending you over the edge. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, sending shivers throughout your whole body as you screamed Alastor's name for all of Hell to hear. Even if they weren't listening to the broadcast, they might’ve still heard you.

Your vision was blurry, your face was hot, and currents of pleasure still shot through your core like electricity. Alastor got up and made his way to the control panel, "I hope this is to your liking dear listeners! Because we're just getting started"

...you've gotta be fucking kidding.

----------------------------------------------------

Rlly rlly hoping u like thisss 🤞🏻 I think it's aight, I just love writing for Alastor tbh hehe. Cheers x

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jgracie · 23 days

Text

DELICATE — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF PSYCHE

masterlist | rules

❝ do u think u could write a percy x daughter of psyche reader headcannons, maybe one where shes super emotional bc psyches the goddess of the soul and stuff 🤍🤍 ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a daughter of psyche

pairing percy jackson x psyche!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . delicate (taylor swift)

“Y/N, can you help with something?” Piper said as she barged in your cabin

Being Psyche’s only child, you got pretty lonely watching everyone else interact with their siblings. Luckily, the Aphrodite cabin decided to ‘adopt’ you, seeing as you had your emotional intuition in common

That’s how you became good friends with Piper, and how you ended up in this position: being dragged out of the comfort of your cabin and all the way to the beach

Proudly presenting you to the boy you recognised to be Percy, son of Poseidon, Piper said, “Y/N's a daughter of Psyche, she can help!”

You looked at Piper, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I can help with what?”

Percy answered for her, “this hippocampus is in pain and won’t tell me anything. I inspected it for cuts or anything like that, but she looks fine!” You didn’t need to hear him to tell he was exhausted. His aura had spots of dark red signifying his tiredness

You gave Percy a smile, channelling all of calmness in yourself as you said, “it’ll be okay, I’ll take a look.” You were glad to see it work - the red spots lessening. Using your voice to influence people’s emotions was something you were still working with Piper on

As soon as you got near the hippocampus, you knew what was up. Once you got it to relax, you told them, “she’s not hurt, she’s pregnant.”

After that day, you started hanging out with Percy more. Well, if you called ‘doing occasional checkups on Sweetie the hippocampus’ hanging out.

The two of you, along with Will Solace from Apollo, guided the hippocampus through her pregnancy. You read her emotions and Will administered the necessary medical support

Percy was just there because he’s a child of Poseidon and the hippocampi really wanted their lord to be there, as they believed it’d bless the child

When Sweetie finally gave birth, you couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. You really enjoyed spending time with Percy, and now you didn’t have an excuse to

Could you just ask him to hang out? Sure, he’d probably agree. But you wouldn’t do that. Stuff like this is really delicate to you, and needs to be treated with utmost care

Luckily, he did the asking for you

“Y/N!” Percy yelled. It had been a day since Sweetie gave birth, what could Percy possibly need from you?

You turned, “is Sweetie okay?” Ever since that day at the beach, you’d grown really attached to the hippocampus, and would hate to hear that something had gone wong

Much to your relief, Percy said, “Sweetie’s fine, I just wanted to thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have even known she was pregnant. Do you wanna get ice cream with me later today? My treat.”

Your smile widened and warmth flooded your heart, “sure, Percy, I’d love that.”

The ice cream broke the ice between you and Percy, and soon enough you were laughing as if you’d been friends your whole lives. For someone who isn’t a child of Psyche or Aphrodite, Percy was pretty good with people

Your issue is that he’s too good. When he’d shoot you one of his handsome grins, or gently pull you into his chest as you’re about to bump into someone, or check you for scrapes after a game of capture the flag, you couldn’t help but fall in love

However, he was so oblivious. Every time you read his aura, you were disappointed at the lack of pink in it. How could he still see you as a friend?

Confused, you decided to consult the Aphrodite cabin

Another night, another sleepover at the Aphrodite cabin. From the perfume samples to the face masks, you loved it all

Clapping her hands, Piper sat on the floor next to you, completing the circle. Instantly, all of her siblings stopped talking, “we have something to discuss. Y/N, if you will.”

“So, I like Percy–” you heard squeals from all directions. Piper shushed them, “continue.”

“I like Percy, but I don’t think he likes me back. He does things for me - things that I associate with romance - but every time I read his aura, there’s nothing,” you sighed

The circle was silent as the Aphrodite kids thought of solutions to your issue. After a minute, a girl piped up, “have you done anything to show that you like him?”

“Oh yeah, I gave him one of my chocolates yesterday.” Instantly, you felt judged, “I don’t do that for anyone,” you added

The girl next to you turned and placed her hands on your shoulders, “that’s the issue, Y/N. Sure, to you that's the epitome of romance, but it's a little too subtle for most people, babe. You’ve got to really show him you like him! If you do, then he’ll start thinking of you romantically, y’know?”

By the morning, you made your decision. You’d show Percy that you liked him

Meanwhile, Percy scarfed down yet another potion, grimacing at the taste

You see, Percy liked you too. But he was smart. He knew you’d be able to tell immediately if he liked you, since his aura would give his feelings away. So, what’d he do? He begged asked the Hecate cabin for a potion that’ll hide his aura

Considering you hadn’t said anything about it so far, he thought it worked

He felt bad lying to you, but he couldn’t have you knowing, not yet. Percy wanted to plan the perfect confession, and he couldn’t do that with your powers at play

With his aura concealed, Percy left his cabin. He was going to head to breakfast when he found you sitting at the steps of Cabin 3

"What’re you doing here?” Percy said, startling you. You were too nervous to knock on his door, so you opted to wait for him to leave his cabin instead

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Percy, there’s this movie I really wanted to see, and I was wondering if you wanted to see it… together?” You took his hand and looked down at your feet, too scared to check his aura

“Sure! Do you wanna come to mine or should I go to yours?” Percy replied, blushing. If this didn’t scream the fact that you liked him, he didn’t know what did

You looked up. His aura was the same - yellow, meaning friendship. You felt yourself tear up and ran, hoping he didn’t get suspicious

He did, of course. Percy chased after you until you got tired and he could finally catch up, “what’s wrong, Y/N?”

You snapped. You were getting sick of all of this, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Percy! I’ve been trying to figure you out for weeks! You always do romantic things for me but your aura’s still yellow, and it hurts, Percy, so I’d really appreciate it if you stopped leading me on!”

Percy felt like such an idiot. He explained that he did like you and the yellow aura was just because of the potion he got from the Hecate kids

Since you still had some doubts, he dragged you to the Hecate cabin and asked them to give him a potion that’d reverse the effects of the first one

As soon as he downed that one, his aura turned bright pink

True love

You started dating soon after. That night, you watched the romance movie you’d picked out and Percy held you as you cried about how cute the couple is

You can’t hide your emotions from Percy. Just because he can’t read auras, doesn’t mean he can’t tell when his favourite girl’s feeling down!

Whenever someone even thinks to tease you for being sensitive and emotional, Percy immediately gives them a lecture, telling them he’s sorry they don't have half your emotional complexity

He’s always asking you to read his aura, since he's very curious. It barely changes when he’s around you, almost always mostly pink

You still tell him though and he gets this super proud look on his face and it’s really cute

You’re really glad you have Percy because now you have someone to rant to about all the media you consume and how it makes you feel. Sometimes he spaces out because your voice is so soothing, but he makes up for it

You two are PDA central. Percy also has lots of feelings, so you always have to be touching in some way

You told him your mom's sacred animal is the butterfly once and now whenever he sees one he instantly thinks of you

“Oh my Gods Y/N is watching over me!” “Percy that’s a moth”

Every day Percy thanks Piper and her mother for letting you guys cross paths, because your path and his are forever intertwined now

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x psyche reader #percy jackson x daughter of psyche #psyche pjo #children of psyche #daughter of psyche #cynwrites

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jadeddangel · 2 months

Note

I saw that u write poly stuff and my mind was inspired, maybe u could write something where adam and lute comfort reader because something happened and even a bit suggestive if u want:))

EEEE IM SO HAPPY I INSPIRED YOU!!

Lute x reader x Adam

"It's gonna be ok, beautiful"

Warnings: None

Art isn't mine and belongs to @.D4gm4rs on twt

The bed was cold even though it seemed like Adam and lute had left hours ago ,although it had only been 30 minutes. It was your day off.. you had finally gotten a break from everything. You were tired of souls coming to you for help for all these things that you couldn't possibly help with. The worst part of all, though was there was this angel that wouldn't leave you alone, he had been pretty much stalking you. He was trying to get you to go on dates to try and get you to hang out with him.

You were hesitant to tell Adam and lute scared Adam would over react and that lute wouldn't leave your side; you can imagine how surprised you were when they just gave you some love and left for work. And so here you were, alone, still laying in bed, you just wanted to sleep and stay here forever..

You must've fallen asleep cause when you woke up it was almost dark. With a sigh, you got up, tugging out of the bedroom and going to the kitchen to get dinner ready. You paused seeing that there was already a bag of food on the counter.. it was your favorite, and it even had your favorite drink.. you heard the tv running in the living room. You smiled and walked to the living room seeing 2 familiar tuffs of brown and white grey hair. You reached over and covered Adam's eyes from behind him. "Guess who?" You snickered a bit. Adam hummed a bit. "Is itttt my pretty girl?" Adam guessed, tilting his head up towards the ceiling so you could see his smile. You giggled and leaned down, giving him a kiss. "mhm.." You hummed against his hips. You pulled away brushing his hair back out of his face, you tilted your head to face lute, "there's my pretty girl" you mused leaning closer to her and giving her an Eskimo kiss before kissing her forehead. Lute smiled a bit. "Hi there, baby.. how was your day?" She asked sweetly. You climbed over the back of the couch to plop in between them. "It was as good as it could get with me sleeping all day" you laughed a bit. Lute played with your hair absent-mindedly while Adam tugged at the baggy pajama pants you were wearing. "You know I really like this color on you but maybe we should just take it off hm?" Adam hummed slowly slithering his hands up your thighs til he was holding onto the waist band of the pants. "Adam I will literally never make you ribs again if you take those off" you said curtly opening your eyes a bit to give him a glare. Adam huffed and pulled his hands away, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a toddler. You sighed a bit but decided not to deal with it, "Adam will you get the bag of food? Please? I'll give you head in the morning I promise" you bribed knowing he was going to fight you if you didn't offer. Before you could even finish the word head Adam was already up and grabbing the bag excitedly, "deal!", Adam even went the extra fucking mile and started making your plate for you while watching the movie that was barely getting any attention.

The night was relaxing, you and lute took a bath together cause Adam couldn't be trusted not to start something. Then it was onto dessert, another movie and cuddles. As promised in the morning before work you gave Adam head before he left. And you know what maybe it was good luck cause that day wasn't half bad.

You didnt know what happened(Adam and lute beat the shit out of the guy and talked to your boss about easing up on you) but that didn't matter and as long as everything kept going well it was always gonna be a good day.

#hazbin hotel adam #x reader #hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #lute x reader #hazbin comfort #hazbin hotel comfort #adam x reader x lute #lute x reader x adam #adam x lute #comfort #x reader fluff #x reader comfort #jaded works🪶

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redr0sewrites · 3 months

Text

Aftercare Hcs with Lucifer <3

i wanted to write sum for him to start off my entrance into the hazbin fic writers fandom ajdjdjdj-

🥀 Cw: none, mentions of previous sex, fluff, lucifer being whipped and sleepy

lucifer is most definitely WHIPPED for you, no matter how long the two of you have been together he is the type to fall HARD

this transfers into aftercare, but also affection with him in general

he is especially clingy after sex, he wants all of your praise and attention~ who are u to refuse?

i feel like lucifer is the type to definitely prioritize cuddles and physical contact over cleaning up, he doesn't care how messy the bed is as long as he gets to be held by u!!

you often have to carry him to the bath while hes half asleep, he'll pout and whine about how hes "perfectly fine"

"do we haaavee to get up?"

"darling, do you want to sleep in your own cum?"

"...fine"

lucifer would absolutely feel bad about leaving the entire mess for u to clean up and will always offer to assist u

mind u, he can barely stand upright from exhaustion and hes covered in bites and bruises and soaked in sweat and... fluids

join him in the bath after cleaning up, you two have a giant bath that can fit the both of you (perks of being rich) that often leads to another softer round of sex or just sweet cuddles and massages

SPEAKING OF MASSAGES!!!!! HE WILL TOTALLY GIVE U MASSAGES WHEN YOU JOIN HIM, ALONG WITH WASHING YOUR BACK AND HAIR ETC

wash his wings, he will melt

praise him, tell him how good he was for you and how good he made you feel, it may not seem huge on your end but bc of how self conscious he is it definitely boosts his ego

once you both actually get to bed, his favorite cuddling position is either spooning, or just laying beside you with his arms (and wing) draped over you as your both pressed as close to eachother as possible. he loves when your faces are super close together too, so he can press soft kisses to your lips or boop your noses together

speaking of spooning, he will be little or big spoon! i hc him as a switch, so the same way he'll top or bottom in bed, lucifer is def down for being held and cuddled or holding you!!

lucifer is the type to enjoy soft chatter as you two drift to sleep, he loves getting to ramble to you about his latest rubber duck or his day or anything he wants, while you enjoy listening to him and admiring him while he slowly drifts off

he asks the weirdest questions after sex, especially when it was very intimate. hes def gonna ask u if u would still love him as a worm and then turn into a worm for good measure

"duckie, if you were an ant monarch, and you got to name your own ant hill, what would you name it?"

"...."

all the while, lucifer is just smiling this big goofy grin, watching you with lidded eyes and soaking in the warmth of getting to be with you

he just loves the fact that hes yours, that the two of you get to share these intimate moments together and that you both care for eachother so much

he falls asleep mid sentence too, it's actually really cute

"and then, *yawn*, i said.... like.... mhm... "

"goodnight luci~"

AUGHWHEHEEEHEHHEHEHEHEUEHEHEHEGEHESUAHAIEJEGEJEH

the soul ascending love i have for him and hazbin hotel is not normal i swear. expect more soon and please, for the love of all things good and holy, send in reqs im begging 👹

also sorry this is so shit i was gonna make this a full scenario but decided it was more fun as hcs bUUUUT i can do a scenario if yall want- i live to please

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soundlessdreamss · 3 months

Note

Hi!

Can i request lucifer and charlie morningstar with starlight glimmer!Reader?

So the reader was lucifer's child back in heaven and when she saw what her father did without her..She felt anger and sorrow insode herself.. But that didn't stop of her because she fell from heaven to hell...And she changed her appearance so nobody would suspect that she looks similar to lucifer

If you know starlight's cutie mark ability that is different..The reader can collect people's soul and feed the souls to her clock

Her clock is golden one with starlight mark on the behind..And she can time travel but she don't use it alot since she still has some other abilities to keep in control..

And the reader just went to the hazbin hotel just to stay there and help with few stuff... And vaggie knows reader but not that deep..Charlie noticed that the reader had few blonde hair strings like lucifer.. So she thought nothing at first..

And the reader saw alastor as father figure so sometimes the reader calls him father and alastor just tells the reader to call him father which the reader become happy since she didn't had anyone else at all

So when lucifer visits the hotel how he will react?

I could just when lucifer pointed it out alastor would have the biggest grin then spoke

"Oh?,well she calls me her father!"

I wanna see it sooooo badly‼️‼️

It's alright if you don't do it<3

Also can be called the servy anon?

I like your fics sm<3

Hope to see more of it<3

Have good day/evening/night<3

omg I LOVE mlp!! Of course I can write this, I haven’t got that far though so I’m not really sure how starlight glimmer acts but I did a bit of research and I’ll try my best to write this well!

PLATONIC/FATHER ALASTOR X READER X LUCIFER (sorry if this isn’t how u write it, I’m still new to this whole fanfic thing ^_^ ) Also this is kinda angsty, and requests are open!

When you were still a kid in heaven you saw Lucifer as the best father in the world! He loved and cherished you deeply, you didn’t think he would give you up that easily. Would he?

You wanted to play with him one day and looked everywhere for him but you couldn’t find him. You asked an angel if they had any clue where he was but they said he was banished with his wife Lillth because they rebelled against heaven.

he seriously just left you like that? Without a word? To say you were angered was an understatement. you were FUMING. But you also couldn’t help but feel so miserable and depressed that he just left you like that.

you thought he cared about you just as much as you cared about him. But you were wrong.

After a couple hundred years when you became an adult, all of that anger and sorrow that you had stored you from Lucifer, you finally snapped. You took it out on the angels which led you to getting banished for being rude and improper.

The first thing you did in hell was change your appearance because you knew Lucifer was the king of hell and you really didn’t wanna see him again after what he did to you. (You also kinda regretted taking your anger out on the angels who did nothing to you.)

Your first couple months in hell were agonizing as everyone here was so different compared to the angels and people in heaven. It felt like you were an outcast.

You tried to not use your powers as much but when it got really bad you decided to collect their soul and feed it into your clock. Or you sometimes dropped time in order to collect their soul as well.

As you were walking in the streets of hell one day you heard an advertisement about a hotel and it caught your attention. You looked at the tv for the ad and it described a hotel where sinners can be redeemed if they just try to become better.

It sounded like a breath of fresh air compared to all these other advertisements for clubs so you decided why not visit the hotel? It couldn’t be so bad.

After a couple minutes of walking you made it to the hotel and knocked on the door. You were taken aback as a blonde haired girl hugged you tight and welcomed you to the hotel. But you also noticed Vaggie was there.

The blonde hair girl introduced herself as Charlie and also Vaggies girlfriend. (You congratulated Vaggie in private and also mentioned to not let Charlie know about her identity.)

As you were talking to Vaggie in private after being introduced to the hotel and welcomed she told you that Charlie was Lucifer’s daughter. You couldn’t believe it.

Not only did he leave you behind, but he started a whole family without you even knowing. You were in disbelief and asked Vaggie to not let Charlie know that you were her older sister technically.

You both agreed to it and went back to the lobby. Charlie couldn’t help but notice you had blonde streaks in your hair that looked similar to her blonde hair but she just shrugged it off.

You were also introduced to a man named Alastor and he greeted you very kindly. And before you knew it you guys started growing a daughter and father bond.

He treated you just like his daughter if he had one, he filled the parental role that Lucifer never did.

It made your heart happy knowing that you could finally have a father figure that you knew wouldn’t leave you. You guys bonded over the span of a couple weeks and you accidentally called him dad once out loud.

He didn’t mind though and said that you could even call him dad because he thought it was sweet that you saw him as your father.

As the weeks went by Charlie finally had an idea to let heaven approve of their hotel she just needed to call her father to schedule a meeting with heaven for her.

The one thing you didn’t expect her to do was to invite him over though. Fuck. What were you supposed to do now?! You really didn’t wanna see Lucifer again and panicked internally.

You helped the crew set up the hotel for Lucifer’s visit but your anxiety just rose more and more the closer it got to an hour passing by. (Since he said he was going in an hour)

Once it was finally time to greet him he burst through the door and hugged Charlie tightly since he had missed her, he also greeted kiki, and razzle and dazzle. It hurt a bit seeing how much cared for her but didn’t care for you.

You tried hiding behind Alastor a bit but Lucifer looked at his way when he pointed out the reservations and noticed it was you even with the changes you did to yourself.

His breathe got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t believe it was really you after all these years. Oh how he regretted never taking you with him.

He approached you and looked at you closely before saying “[reader], is that really you?…”

He brushed some strands of hair out of your face before pulling you into a hug. That was not something the other members of the hotel expected.

You pushed him off quickly though as you were still angry and uncomfortable with him.

He didn’t get why you pushed him off, he thought you still missed him after all these years of not being together.

It didn’t take too long for Alastor to connect the pieces since he was good observer. You had those blonde streaks in your hair for a reason no?… that’s cause you were related to the king of hell himself, Lucifer.

Alastor than put his hand around your waist pulling you closer. (Not in a romantic way!!) He than spoke up about Lucifer’s behavior. “Lucifer if you don’t mind excusing me but, what exactly are you doing with my daughter?”

Lucifer seemed in shock when he said that. “YOUR daughter? Oh please, you remember don’t you [reader]? It’s me your father, Lucifer! He had a desperate and nervous smile on his face hoping that you would remember him.

Before you could speak up Alastor cut you off and spoke first “Oh really? That’s quite funny cause [reader] calls me her father.”

The whole room went silent after that. Lucifer couldn’t believe it, Alastor was just playing around was he? You were probably just having an inside joke with him but no, you really saw Alastor as your father instead of Lucifer, your ACTUAL father.

You saw the heartbroken look on Lucifer’s face and didn’t know what to say in response but managed to mutter something out. “I’m sorry, but it’s been hundreds of years since that day happened, you need to let me go.”

After managing to mutter that out you excused yourself and went back to your room in the hotel. After Alastor and Lucifer fought over you and Charlie, (and after Charlie and Lucifer sang the song together) Lucifer knocked on the door but you didn’t answer so he teleported inside your room.

Only to see you and Alastor on your rooms balcony together. You were crying on the floor from the painful encounter and Alastor comforted you saying sweet words to make you feel better.

Before Alastor or you could notice Lucifer he quickly left and went back to his palace and rethought about his choices he made with you. He knew he couldn’t get his daughter back, it was already too late. If only he made the decision to take you with him.

note: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! please don’t be shy to send me requests, I’ll gladly write more fun things like this. ^_^

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #alastor x reader #platonic #platonic x reader #light angst

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