#monkie kid syntax | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beauleifu · 6 months ago

Note

So you've written a one-shot of flirty!reader X Syntax, but what about a reverse? Syntax is very flirty and makes semi-suggestive remarks. Meanwhile, the reader is bright red the whole time and has no idea how to respond to all this intimate attention. Maybe Syntax pins the reader to the wall, presses his body close, tickling their neck with his hot breath.

so its taken me literally forever to get back to this request and im SO sorry but! if you still check out my blog you'll find it here :3

Probably shorter than my normal oneshots but its midnight and i finished all my duties for the night~

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FLIRTY!SYNTAX X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Boredom should be a crime at this point. Huntsman is out on a mission, and you'd set a table for two to welcome Syntax's return from his own personal errand. Despite your anticipation for another innocent night of soft glances and sweet nothings, your idiot has something else in mind~

TW: Suggestive, plenty of flirting/fluff

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It honestly looks perfect.

You take a step back to admire the setup; a cheesy yet simple table set for two, with an elegant tablecloth and a few candles oozing molten wax. Anyone would appreciate the effort - you'd even taken the time to fold the napkins elegantly enough to elevate the look of your tablescape.

Perhaps it's a testament to how much you'd missed your idiot. Sure, Syntax's absence had only spanned 10 hours (yes you were counting), but you were clingy like that.

No, too clingy was impossible. Syntax is just as affection starved as you are.

Sighing in reverie, you settle on one of the chairs, chin resting on your palm. Absent fingers drummed on your cheek, and you let yourself daydream for a minute. The spider gang really had to decide that today, of all days, was the prime time to complete some missions they'd been avoiding. Huntsman finally went out to trade with a partnering demon; he'd been talking about it all week, leading you to chaste him for procrastinating. Or perhaps it was merely a cover story and he's currently visiting Sandy at the moment.

The Spider Queen, Zhizhu, and Goliath, had both taken their respective adventures on opposite sides of Megapolis. You knew better than to pry in the Queen's affairs, but Goliath had decided to restock on supplies like food and toiletries.

Simple things. You appreciate him for that dearly.

Yes, it's your money he's spending, but it's time out of your day that he relieved you of, so perhaps the financial aspect of it doesn't matter.

Ah, and that brings you to your dearly beloved scientist.

Syntax didn't want to go, let's get that out of the way. But Zhizhu convinced the spider demon to pay his old lab a visit in order to collect some old blueprints and research documents to further aid in his current projects. Those of which are too important to divulge with you, yet it's nothing personal.

He said he'd be back soon.

Instinctively, you glance towards the clock, the dull ticking a constant background noise in the apartment. It's soothing- a sound you know you'd miss if you had to move out.

6:45p.m..

You're about to let out possibly the deepest, most disappointment sigh known to man, when the jingle of keys fills the air. Perking up like a dog who'd scented nearby prey, you glance towards the apartment door, watching as it swings open to reveal a slumped character dressed in a familiar black lab coat over a dark turtleneck.

Gods, if you had a tail, it would be wagging.

"Syntax!" You gasp, sliding off the chair to approach him. The scientist's head tilts up, sharp eyes scanning the vicinity before landing on your figure. The way he softens and relaxes at the sight of you is something you'll forever cherish.

"Evening, darling." The gentle murmur washes over you, causing butterflies to swell in your belly. He accepts your hug, raising an arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in as you fall into his side hug. "Missed me, I gather?" Syntax hums, eyes twinkling with amusement and fondness. He looks tired, if the shadows under his eyes have anything to say about it, but otherwise all right. It's a sight you never, ever want to become unfamiliar. Fuck, it's almost shameful how addicting his presence has become.

Huffing, you nuzzle his chest, content to burrow further into the warmth of his embrace, breathing in the ashen, vanilla scent that clings to his clothes, and a smell that's all uniquely his own.

"Yeah. Everyone was out today which gave me nobody to pester and nothing to do."

"Oh, how dulce. Aren't you a little ray of sunshine."

"A lonely ray of sunshine," you huff.

Syntax catches the whine in your tone, but doesn't comment on it. Rather, he closes the door behind him with a soft click! and turns his attention to you. The faint, dull thump of his bag being set down on the couch reaches your ears before both his arms encase your smaller frame. As he rests his chin atop your head, an uncontrollable smile filters the weariness out of your expression.

"Long day?"

The scientist merely hums, a soft rumble that vibrates in his chest. Lazy hands trace mindless patterns on your back, following the curve of your spine and giving you shivers. Oh, that's not fair. "Very long. Had an encounter with an old lab partner."

"Oh?" You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head to free your face. Soft eyes explore his visage of tired affection, the way those luminous, acid green eyes roam your features. It's tempting. "Do tell~"

Syntax quirks a brow. His grip tightens around you momentarily, his voice dipping a few octaves. "They were an ex, mind you."

Well. He could've told you that up front.

Head tilting, you knit your brows together and frown, deciding to play along. "Okay, don't tell."

"What if I want to? They were such a charmer, I distinctly remember the look in their eyes upon glimpsing the hickey you left on my neck," Syntax continues despite your words. Suddenly, his grip on you becomes too tight to wriggle out of. Gods, he knows you too well, knows that this is the exact moment you'd try to disentangle yourself from him, but not this time. With a soft chuckle, Syntax lets his head fall forward, dipping into the curve of your neck. "Their jealousy almost rivals yours at best, my love."

You manage a soft squeak, eyes flicking wide, body instinctively trying to slip away but to no avail. His hot breath on your neck sends shivers up your spine, yet your head tilts to the side despite your best efforts to hold firm.

"Oh?" You whisper, fingertips beginning to tremble, and you grip his shirt tightly. "Mocking me, are you?"

"Would you rather I praise you?"

A gentle kiss is pressed to your neck. The feeling makes your heart leap right out of your chest, the warmth of his lips churning up a rapid rubatosis within your mind.

You can hear your own heart pounding; surely Syntax can by now, too.

At your lack of response, Syntax lets out a dark, thoughtful hum. Slowly, he guides you backwards, hands sliding down your spine to settle firmly on your hips. When the hard surface of the counter presses against your back, reality comes crashing down on you and your thoughts return. Messy and scrambled, heated and intense.

He'd gotten to you.

"I'd rather you shut up-" You manage briefly, attempting to push him away. Yet all you manage to do is press a hand to his chest, and that inclines Syntax to raise an eyebrow.

It seems he's contemplating on having mercy. His thumbs absently stroke your hips, lidded eyes scanning your expression. A frisson of heat hits you hard and fast at the intimate behavior. In the end, though, the smirk on his face is answer enough, and he leans down so he's eye level with you.

Gods, he's insufferable. "I could shut you up with a kiss?" Syntax offers.

At this point, you can't make eye contact. "Syntax-"

"Shh." Syntax gently presses his forehead to yours, eyes never leaving your face. It's quiet. Until he rumbles, "You're so lovely, darling. Just let me look at you."

At that, the breath just leaves you. (Y/N) is gone, the lights have turned off in your mind. He'd struck you dumb with words alone. Clearly he's acknowledged your attempt at an intimate dinner, but the look in his eyes tells you he has other plans. A soft smile dawns on his lips, ones that you ache to kiss, to run your thumb over. But he's being so affectionate and flirty that your mind is short circuiting.

Syntax is taking his damn time. Acid green eyes scanning your face, full of nothing but adoration and love for you. And yet, at the same time it feels like he's teasing you with the silent intimacy. As if he knows how much this is affecting you.

Yeah. The soft smirk plastered on his face let's you know he's absolutely relishing in your awkwardness.

"You're not breathing."

The comment is airy, casual. His eyebrows lift.

You grimace, expelling a sharp breath through your nose, refusing to back down now and avert eyes. Syntax catches this, and gladly accepts the challenge.

He hums, lifting a hand to trace the shape of your jawline, tilting your chin up. "There we go. So quiet, little bird. Won't you sing?" The scientist leans down, ghosting a kiss against the corner of your lips, letting it linger. You can feel him smile against your cheek, relishing in the way your breath hitches. You push, and he only pulls you closer.

"I made- um. I made dinner," you whisper, a weak attempt to change the topic.

It's almost a defense mechanism when you can't handle intimacy.

When you can't handle receiving affection.

Syntax pauses, eyes sliding to the table, and he nods briefly. "I noticed," he mutters, his tone still deep. Almost hungry- but not for food. His hands slide lower, hooking under your thighs, and in a swift moment he lifts you up to sit on the counter.

"Wha- Syntax!" You yelp, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckles, loving how sensitive you are.

"Yes~?"

He's teasing.

Again.

Your brow furrows as Syntax nuzzles into the crook of your neck once more, littering the soft skin with little kisses and nips. He's being so gentle with it, too, in a way that makes it impossible to reprimand him. Your lips part to deliver a sharp retort, but suddenly he murmurs against your neck, sweet nothings that melt you to your very core.

"Missed you so much." A kiss is pressed to your jawline. "Can you imagine? Putting up with a past lover, wishing I had you in my arms..."

Syntax's hands tighten around your hips reflexively.

You gasp softly, eyes fluttering shut due to sheer overstimulation. Gods, your face is so red it burns. Words are useless; if you tried to speak you'd only embarrass yourself. Only his name is coherent on your tongue.

"Syntax . . ."

He purrs against your neck, pressing butterfly kisses all the way up to your lips. Pulling away, Syntax smirks. "Yes?"

You stare at him, cheeks burning impossibly red. "Nothing."

Those acid green eyes narrow to slits.

No, he missed you today. He wants your vulnerability, your softness. Your sloppy attempts at intimacy while he smothers you with affection he knows you struggle with handling. But he'll learn you out of your inexperience, Syntax is stubborn like that.

"Mm. Tell me more," the scientist chides, coaxing another soft gasp from your lips as his hands slide up to your waist. He loves having you up on the counter. You're more accessible that way.

"Or would you rather I shut you up with that kiss," he adds, smirking.

He's giving you a way out.

Swallowing, you nod desperately, leaning forward to capture his lips in a kiss- before Syntax leans back. Dark eyebrows shoot up, and he feigns disappointment.

"I believe my little songbird forgot how to ask nicely," he murmurs, waiting patiently.

Your eyes widen further, cheeks darkening to a rosy hue.

Oh, fuck him.

Absolutely fuck him.

He's not playing fair and he knows it.

"Syntax, please," you whisper, needing this. Needing a break from his teasing and tormenting, craving his touch more than anything. Being vulnerable can come after, surely. "Please just kiss me."

The spider demon waits for you to say the magic words, his expression softening. That signature smile tilts his lips upwards, and Syntax lets out a devious chuckle. Surely he won't make you suffer any longer, would he? He's merciful.

Indeed he is. Your breath is stolen as Syntax leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. Arms slide around your waist, holding you firmly against his larger frame as he tilts his head, chasing your lips, the gentle heat twisting your gut into a molten pit of pleasure. In that moment, you allow your eyes to close, a shaky sigh slipping out between kisses as you lose yourself in that moment. Dinner is utterly forgotten, yet part of you doesn't even care.

He's so nice, so warm, so perfect. The way he hums darkly against your lips sends sparks through your body like nothing else.

You could kiss this man forever. Your man.

Your idiot.

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