Hiiii, not sure if requested are open. If not, I do apologize. But I just read your fix about Syntax just flirting with the read but I have a request. Let's turn things around and have reader flirt with Syntax that it makes him flustered and a blushing mess hihihihihi. Thank you in advance!
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AAAA okay i'm sorry for answering this one before all the other ones that have been festering in my askbox for months BUT I HAD AN IDEA and when i have one i need to write it down
it's gonna be short! But short 'n sweet is sometimes the best way to go.
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SYNTAX X FLIRTY!READER
Lego Monkie Kid
Context: Time to pull out the trusty uno reverse card and give Syntax a taste of his own medicine. Little did you know how well your tactics would work and suddenly, you feel like flirting with him more often.
TW: Slightly suggestive, lotsa flirting
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Holy shit, you're bored.
It's a fate resigned to those who don't feel productive enough to do something, yet desire nothing but an activity to pleasure their soul.
And at that precise moment, the universe favors you.
"Evening, (Y/N)," someone murmurs, strolling into the living room. They eye your figure draped lazily over the couch, eyebrow raising. "You know that will only damage your spine in the long run."
Lifting your head, you watch Syntax walk past you and into the kitchen. "I've got nothing to do."
"Oh, I'm so scared," Syntax drawls, disinterested.
The tone in his voice has strange thoughts entering your mind, which is already blank so it can do nothing except embrace them. With a furrowed brow and a slight frown, you shift around so your knees support your frame, elbows crooked on the head of the couch. Resting your chin atom your arms, you observe your roommate very carefully.
"Yeah, I guess you should be, huh."
Green eyes flick to your face, gauging the situation far too fast for comfort. But you're in a different mood, now.
"Excuse me?"
You tilt your head to one side, voice honeyed and innocent. "I never thought about it, but imagining you scared sounds pretty good right about now."
"Strange for someone usually so docile," Syntax fires back, grabbing a cup for water. "What brought this on?"
You slide off the couch, noticing how the spider demon's eyes follow your every movement like a hawk, his attention utterly captured by your presence. With a cocky smile, you saunter over to him, arms folded behind your back.
"I wonder . . . would you shake?" You hum, eyes sparkling with something new. Something flirtatious. "Would you beg for mercy?"
The object of your attention is suddenly very quiet.
Wide eyes stare into your soul, unsure of what to do. Poor thing, you'll have to guide him through the motions. Now that you're close enough, it's easy.
"Maybe you'd rather not beg for your life. Maybe you'd rather beg for attention," you murmur.
Syntax visibly swallows. "(Y/N)-"
Oh, how quickly the mood has changed. A new plan develops in your mind, and you slowly tap his clavicle a few times. "Don't be scared. It doesn't suit you, I think. You look pretty when you blush, though."
There it is.
A fiery red hue spreads across Syntax's cheeks, and all of the sudden he's rendered mute. He's afraid of what he might say.
So instead, he presses his mouth into a thin line.
Waiting.
You lean very close to his ear. "Couch. Please."
He inhales sharply, softly. Of course he would melt if you asked nicely, in the way that you did. There's always a way around his cocky stubbornness. It's just a nice reminder of how well you know him.
In no time at all, Syntax is sat on the couch.
Looking very, very nervous.
"Your morning tea wasn't spiked, was it?" He quickly asks, head tilted up to better see you standing above him.
"No, don't worry." With this reassurance, you settle yourself in his lap, straddling his hips and placing your hands on his chest in a gentle reminder that you're here and sober, and that he can back out anytime he wants to.
But . . . just to make sure.
"I'm going to kiss you, okay?" You murmur, half-lidded eyes trailing over his features, a crimson shade of excitement and embarrassment. "You all right with that?"
Oh, jeez.
It seems like asking for consent is just making him blush harder.
Looking four feet above your head, Syntax nods stiffly, expression unreadable.
You frown. "Gimme a safe word."
A small pause, as Syntax focuses on your question so as to relax his muscles a bit. You can feel them underneath you, and when he seems completely sure that you know what you're doing, that you'll listen to him and tune into his reactions, he exhales slowly.
"Traffic light?" You offer, smiling a bit. "Red means stop."
The spider demon finally, finally locks eyes with you. They're softer now, those green shades of intellect and adoration.
You know this is new for him.
This is scary and it's strange and yet at the same time, you both know he craves it. He needs it.
So when the Syntax gives a small, sincere nod of approval, you can't help but cup his face and grin like an absolute idiot. "There we go. Knew you couldn't deny me for long, you big softie."
"Don't-" He grunts, albeit smiling, face burning.
You quiet him with a soft peck to his forehead, still smiling. Absently tracing his cheek with the pad of your thumb, you trail down his features, kissing the bridge of his nose to the tip, down to his slightly scruffy chin. Then, you gently press your lips to his closed eyes, murmuring half to yourself.
"I always wondered why you were so scared to be touched."
Raising your fingers to sift through his lime-green locks, you tilt your head and frown sadly. "I wish I'd met you sooner . . . so you could feel this way more often."
"Don't be," Syntax says quietly, eyes still closed.
Smiling, you capture his lips in yours for a moment, leaning back only to touch your forehead to his. "Too fucking bad, sweetheart."
"Oh my stars, don't call me that."
"I think it's cute. My sweetheart, my darling dear, love of my life, babygirl-"
Syntax's eyes snap open, fierce and unforgiving. "Anything but that."
"What. Babygirl?" You question, finding your answer in the scathing look he gives you. With a soft laugh, you trail your hands down to his chest, curiously feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing pattern. His heartbeat spikes when you do so, but eventually calms to a slow and steady thrum.
Sighing, you look up to meet his gaze. "I'm surprised you haven't said 'red' yet."
"I . . ." He seems to be struggling for the right words.
You smirk. "You like it?"
"You're impossible," Syntax huffs, exhaling sharply through his nose. But when his eyes open again, they're full of fondness.
Slowly, you lower yourself so your head rests against his chest, ear pressed to his clavicle. You feel arms drape over your back, pulling you closer, craving the proximity, craving the domesticity and affection. You can't help a sad, warm little smile as you trace patterns in the fabric of Syntax's shirt. You feel him doing the same to your back, tracing the curvature of your spine curiously.
"For someone who hasn't experienced a hug in years, you're really good at it," you hum, congratulating yourself on getting this far. It's progress.
Funny how flirting with him got you here.
"You're good practice," Syntax murmurs, perhaps thoughtfully.
Allowing your eyes to close, you sigh. "Thanks. We can do this whenever you want. I'm open to trying new positions-"
"Do not-" Syntax says sharply, squeezing you in warning.
You return the gesture with your thighs.
"Not yet."