#I want to play it again despite my brain screaming not to. This is my Vanny arc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

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𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

body piercer!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au

word count: 4.7k

summary: you finally go and get your nipples pierced.

warnings: reader has tattoos & has flat/small nipples which is the only physical description in this fic, nipple play, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel miller with a tongue piercing, lots of teasing, sexual tension, tattoo kink??? joel is really into them

a/n: this fic literally wouldn't exist if not for @swiftispunk's fic flesh and metal after reading it and screaming about it (and also reading articles about it) this fic was born, enjoy xx

special thanks to @johnwatsn for the beta! 💞

It’s late. The faint buzz of the neon sign is loud in your ears, taunting, mocking you for just staring inside instead of going in. Your face is illuminated with a red hue, the words BODY PIERCING burning into your irises. And despite the tacky neon sign, the inside looks quite clean. You would know, you’ve been stalking their Instagram page for a while now.

There’s no one inside and you’re contemplating whether or not you should just get on with it. The idea of getting your nipples pierced had been a vague thought until recently. You desperately needed a change, you wanted something new and exciting. You wanted to feel sexy again. Your ex had certainly done a decent amount of damage to your self-esteem and that, plus your already low view of yourself, did not help your brain to see the good of you.

So many things could go wrong, you’ve read multiple articles about it. Your body might reject the piercing, it might leave a scar, irritate it. . .

G Suddenly, a brisk burst of frigid air gently caresses your cheeks, causing you to instinctively step back. Your gaze swiftly shifts from the interior of the shop to the door, where you notice that someone has just opened it, allowing the chilly air from the air conditioning inside to spill out.

Joel Miller, the shop's number one body piercer. Your cheeks burn, your pulse quickens, the sound of it flooding your ears. He’s tall and broad, his brown eyes staring at you with utter amusement. As you continue to just blatantly stare at him, he cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile.

“I’m closin’ in half an hour, sweetheart. If you’re thinkin’ of comin’ in, I’d do it now.”

“O–Oh,” you swallow thickly. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re closing up, sorry to bother you.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile falling, “Well, I didn’t quite say that, now, did I?” Come on in, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

Tell him what you need—your heart beats in your throat, the lazy drawl of his words going directly between your legs. You mentally curse at yourself. How touch-starved are you? He’s just being polite. You’re the customer, it would’ve been weird if he just shooed you away.

Joel takes a step to the side, silently granting permission for you to enter. You stroll past him, making your way inside without uttering a word. The air conditioning is a blessing on your sweat-soaked skin. Even though you don’t have to, you briefly look at your surroundings. Just like your research had entailed, the shop was squeaky clean.

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What can I do you for, sweetheart?”

Some part of you wishes that he could just understand without you having to form the words. You lick the back of your teeth, suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.

“I. . . wanted to get my nipples pierced—if that’s okay?”

“Of course, it is,” he smiles, much softer compared to his crooked smirk from before. “I’m Joel by the way,” he extends his hand and you take it with a sigh of relief, you feel much lighter now—

“I know.”

Your eyes go wide, both your hands stopping mid-shake. Joel’s amused glance is back again, his smile stretching into a grin, “You know?”

“I mean—well, I did research before I came here,” you answer quickly, aggressively almost, and release his hand. His grin only wides, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “So that’s how I know your name.”

“Aren’t you the cautious one,” he turns on his heel and points towards the back. “If you’re set on what you want we can just head inside, I can explain the rest there.”

“Sure.”

Just as you both take a step you remember what you initially wanted to ask before going through with it and stop. Joel senses your lack of movement, turning around, you notice the furrow between his brow. “I actually wanted to ask something before we went on with it.”

“I’m all ears.”

Oh god, this is embarrassing, “So. . . my nipples are. . .flat—or is it more proper to call it small? I don’t know. Would that be an issue?”

The glimmer in his eyes returns full force, his expression of worry melting away, “I’ve never met a nipple I couldn’t pierce,” he teases. “So no need to worry that pretty head of yours.”

“Do you sweet talk with all your clients?” you ask, your lips twitching into a smile. You don’t know what it is, but you feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stalking his shop for so long. Either way, it’s a nice feeling.

“Only with the ones that know my name before I meet them.” His eyes gradually move up and down your body, eating you up. His tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip. You notice the faint shimmer that belongs to a silver tongue piercing. “And the ones that’ve been starin’ into my shop for least an hour.”

Joel takes a step closer and you feel your breath dissipating from your lungs. Dark, charcoal eyes sweep across your face. Your heartbeat is like a fearful hummingbird, hitting the bone cage in rapid succession. You swallow. By some miracle, you hold his gaze.

“You ready to go, little rabbit?”

All the tension drains from your bones and you burst out laughing, “Rabbit?” you giggle, your amusement only growing when you see his wide smile. “What the hell?”

“There’s that pretty smile,” he hums, pulling back. Joel stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Now that you’re relaxed we can get to business. We can stop whenever, so don’t feel pressured when you’re in the chair. You can just leave.”

You nod along as you follow him inside. You’re relieved when you see that it’s a spacious room with bright lighting that doesn’t irritate your eyes.

“First things first, let's pick out the piercing.” Joel walks towards one of the small glass cases and pulls out one of the drawers. Your excitement builds as he presents them to you. “Any ticklin’ your fancy?”

The light above gleams against the glass, there are so many and for a split second, you want them all. You never thought you would be labeling piercings as pretty. Looking them over, you decide you definitely want barbells instead of hoops. Now the question is which barbell one do you want?

“So many,” you mutter, eyes scanning over them again and again. You see one that says ‘cum here’ on each heart-shaped barbell. There’s a couple of them that say different things; kiss here, bite me, lick me— a shudder rolls down your spine. Your mind instantly fills with indecent thoughts, most of them staring at the man still patiently holding the glass case. You bite the inside of your cheek.

You bet he has the most skillful tongue—

“Oh, that one!” you exclaim suddenly, pointing at one in the shape of a heart. It’s decorated in shimmering rhinestones, the metal gold. When he inserts it, the heart would be framing your nipple. “It’s so cute.”

“You like shiny things, huh?” he smiles. “You gotta good eye, it’ll look good on you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, “Thanks.”

“Now lay on the bed, darlin’.”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the piercing bed. You’re about to lay on it before he stops you with a raised hand. “Take off your top.”

“Most guys buy me dinner first.”

“Har har very funny,” he rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, which in return makes you lightheaded. The expression is like a drug and you want to see more of it. More and more and more. “Besides, if you have a flat nipple I’m gonna need to stimulate it.”

“Excuse me?”

Joel is unaware of your blundering, he arranges the fresh, disposable drape and sterile forceps, placing it on the small portable workstation, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I can use the suction device too,” he answers nonchalantly. You watch breathlessly as he pulls on his black rubber gloves and finally turns to you. He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s your top still on?”

“I—I just wasn’t aware nipple play was involved.”

“You do realize where you’re gettin’ pierced right?” his lips twitch up. “You’re not drunk, are you sweetheart?”

“Very funny,” you answer, mimicking his tone from before. “But anyway, okay, I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable,” you point towards the endless draws. “Want me to get the suction device?”

“God, no,” you let out a low chuckle. “Your fingers are just fine.”

“Never had any complaints before.”

Your stomach jumps, arousal caressing your skin similar to a summer breeze. The darkness in his eyes is back, his gaze intense and nerve-wracking.

“Will it hurt?” you mumble.

“I ain’t gonna lie so yeah, it will.”

“How much?”

“Depends, really.”

Your shoulders drop.

“Mine didn’t hurt that bad, to be honest, but my pain tolerance is quite high,” he mutters to himself rather than to you. He follows up with another sentence, probably something to soothe your worry but your brain is locked on to something very specific he just said.

“You have nipple piercings?” you ask incredulously. “Really?”

“I do, though it was more of a bet kind of situation. My brother loooves causing me trouble,” he sighs and crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. “But joke’s on him because I liked how they looked so I kept them.”

“Can. . . Can I see?”

“You gonna be a good girl and keep still when I pierce you?” Joel teases. You nod furiously, lips pressed tightly together. “A’right then.” He curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Your eyes are glued to his chest—his entire torso. You see the way a soft trail of draw hair starts from his bellybutton and disappears under his jeans, you see the soft swell of his stomach, the muscle—your eyes move up, you finally see his nipples, pierced, just like he said, with silver barbells. You lean closer, your ass at the very edge of the piercing bed.

Joel suddenly drops his shirt, hiding away, he shrugs, “Nothin’ fancy, but still, I like’em,” saying that, he takes a seat on his chair and sways a bit thanks to the wheels underneath.

“Do—” you lick the back of your teeth. “Do they make it more sensitive?”

His smirk makes your heart skip a beat, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he points to your shirt. “Now off.”

Without a word, you peel off your shirt and unhook your bra. Joel’s eyes widen momentarily, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare torso. You’re confused for a moment. Surely, in his line of work, he’s seen many tits before—

Then you realize he’s staring at your tattoos.

You don’t have many, though you guess compared to others you do have many. Joel’s gaze lingers on your chest piece, two hands reaching towards each other with the sun and moon in between, decorating the dip between your breasts without going too deep. The blood rush of your body fills your ears, and your lips part with a gasp, his eyes instantly snap to your lips. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

“Didn’t know you were tattooed, darlin’.”

“You like tattoos?” you ask, your voice hoarse and barely there. “I have more on my back.”

You swear his pupils dilate, “I’d love to see them after. If you’ll let me.”

“Sure,” you answer with a weak smile. “I don’t see a reason not to.”

He wheels closer, eyes dropping to your breasts. You look away. Your cheeks feel unreasonably warm despite the air conditioning running. Goosebumps blossom over every patch of skin. His mouth is too close, the warmth of his breath fans your chest, a pleasant tingle echoing over your breasts.

You’ve always felt a bit awkward about your nipples. They always seemed silly compared to your breast size, especially when you started seeing other nipples.

“I’m gonna touch you now,” he says softly, dragging you away from your thoughts. “I’m gonna massage it a bit to work it out, a’right?”

You nod and hold your breath simultaneously. He does your right nipple first. Just like he said, he massages the flesh closest to your nipple, easing it out. It feels good, undeniably so. The pads of his fingers work delicately. Deep down you wish he didn’t have to wear the gloves. Your body aches for his heat, his bare touch on your naked skin. Joel pinches a bit hard and you flinch, he mumbles an apology. You don’t have it in you to tell him that it didn’t actually hurt, rather, it felt good.

Soft whimpers threaten to escape your lips so you bite into the bottom one, hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing with deep inhales. His thumb swipes over your, now hard, nipple. “There we go,” he says.

You don’t open your eyes. Pain blossoms from the flesh of your lips, you feel them starting to swell.

“Hey,” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face, then you feel his thumb easing out your lips from between your teeth. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Are you okay?”

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re just turned on? That this has been the most action you’ve had in months?

“I’m okay,” you answer. His brows furrow in disbelief and you can’t really blame him. You let out a long sigh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just got a little worked up.”

“Worked up?” His smile is back and in response, you want to bury your head in the sand. “What d’you mean?”

His hand slides to your waist, squeezing it gently. You stick your bottom lip out. “You know what I mean.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” his voice drips with cruel teasing, his thumb begins to draw lazy circles around your skin. You think he’s going to say something else but his gaze once again drops to your chest. “Looks like it disappeared, gonna need to work it out again.”

You expect his fingers—maybe for him to pinch a bit harder this time.

What you don’t expect, however, is his burning mouth on your cold skin.

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, your body instinctively arching towards him. He groans as a response, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue flicks your peaked nipple. You feel his teeth nipping the tender flesh and you gasp once more, a sharp moan rattling in your throat.

His eyes look up at you, momentarily he parts away, his lips are swollen, spit glistening at his lips, “This okay?”

“Yes.”

And he continues to devour you.

Your fingers bite into the leather bed, he laps at the pebbled flesh, purposefully rubs the tongue piercing into it. The sudden hardness of metal makes you jump and then melt into it, he repeats the movement of his tongue again and again, swirling it until your thighs start to shake. His hands briefly move to your tattoo, thick fingers dancing along the ink.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, directing his attention to your other nipple. He flicks at it first then closes his lips around it. Your underwear is sticky with slick, your legs in constant motion to relieve some of the tension from your throbbing clit. He cups your mound, presses his fingers into your clothed slit. “Be patient, I’m gettin’ there.” He sucks on your nipple and teases the other with his fingers, pinching and pulling them.

“Won’t be able to do this when we pierce them,” he growls, teeth sinking into your nipple, he flicks his tongue over it. “And you better not let anyone else touch’em too.”

Your head falls back with a groan. He flicks his tongue again when you grind into his palm, the friction not enough to quench your need for him. You grip his shoulder, urging him to move back. He does. You immediately feel guilty at the worry crossing his eyes.

You grip his shirt, slightly sliding it up his stomach, “Can I see how sensitive you are?”

A brush of color spreads from his neck to his cheeks. You smile. Red looks good on him.

He stands up, the chair wheeling away. Joel is quick to discard his shirt and you’re glad that the piercing bed makes it so that you’re in perfect tasting range. You spread your legs wider as he comes closer, taking his place between them. His skin touches your own, his warmth overwhelming yet welcomed.

You kiss his neck first. Then his collar bone, you suck on his skin, teasing the sensitive flesh with your teeth. He shudders. Slowly you make your way down, your thumbs push at the pierced nipples and he moans behind gritted teeth. Smiling sweetly at him, you swirl your tongue around one, playing with the other. Your tongue moves over the bead of the piercing, you tilt it which in return twists the nipple. Another tremble overwhelms him, his body curling around you even further. The outline of his cock is prominent through his jeans, his body impulsively grinding against your stomach. You moan at the hardness, and he moans at the pressure.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he rasps, hips jerking. “But let’s take care of you now, I bet your panties are soaked, darlin’.”

Fuck, it is.

Joel drags his lips down your cheek, he kisses your neck slowly, the metal on his tongue forcing a shudder up your spine and making you curious about how it’ll feel on your cunt.

“Want to eat you out from behind, sweetheart, wanna see those tattoos.”

His hands are a constant on your skin as you hop off the bed and bend over, he helps you with your jeans, reaching around and unbuttoning it for you. The fabric suddenly feels too tight on your skin and you need to get rid of it—now.

The harsh fabric pools at your ankles and you kick them away. His fingers play with the elastic of your underwear, pulling and twisting. The heft of him rubs between the crease, thick cock straining against his zipper. You expect him to take off his jeans too. Your piercer is full of surprises, though, and instead of doing the predictable thing, he continues to roll his hips whilst tracing the pads of his fingers over tattoos.

“Fuck, they’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His touch is ticklish, yet arousing at the same time. More slick gathers at the fabric. You’re desperate for his touch. By the movement of his fingers you guess which of them he’s stroking. First, it’s the fox that stretches over your spine, beams of sun framing its face. Then it’s the smoke-like lines that are closer to your shoulder and the other one near your hip. Joel can’t seem to get enough of it. His palms are flat against inky skin, trying to feel the thought of you while you got them.

You gasp at the touch of soft lips and soft tongue. He licks a slow line up your spine, tracing over the fox and sunlight. By pure instinct you bend over further, your breasts completely pressed against the leather. You’ve never been more glad to have tattoos in your goddamn life—he’s worshipping them, the figures that adorn your skin.

His velvet tongue is replaced by sharp teeth, your back arches, ass pressing further into his clothed cock. Joel trembles and follows your eager movements with another tender bite.

“I love them,” he mouths over the inky smoke near your shoulder. “I love feeling you, touching you. I could just do this for hours. You feel amazin’ against my skin, my sweet little rabbit.”

This time you don’t laugh at the absurd nickname. His name drips from your damp lips like honey, sweet to say and sticking to your tongue.

His hand dips between your legs and his mouth moves down to your ass, he kisses the plump flesh as two fingers stroke you from over the fabric of your underwear. His groan reverberates on your skin, teeth skimming the flesh, “Fuck, you actually are soaked,” Joel hums and slips them under, gathering you around his fingers. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp, raising your hips. “P-Please—”

Joel shushes you, “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he gets down to his knees and as he does, a small grunt leaves his lips.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine,” he kisses your pussy and you’re instantly melting towards his mouth, a groan ripping from your throat. “A sacrifice I’m willin’ to make.”

Joel doesn’t give you the chance to reply or offer to change positions, he slides your panties to the side, licking into you hungrily. You shudder and your upper body jolts, forming the perfect arch. He presses deeper. Licking and teasing your clit with the tip. He cups both sides of your ass and gives them a gentle smack. Your eyes roll at the mild pain, your slick coating his lips, tongue, and chin. The rough hairs of his beard chafe your skin, only adding to the pleasure.

“Taste so good, beautiful,” Smack. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, make you come until there’s a goddamn puddle on the floor.”

“Oh god—” you choke on air, a moan locking in your throat the same time you’re trying to gasp for air. His words and the swirl of his tongue are downright sinful. He flattens his tongue and parts your folds with the soft muscle, teasing your entrance.

Joel pulls you back against him, his lips teaching your clit, your jaw drops, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you and tightening your nipples. It’s filthy, that’s all you can think. If someone walked through those doors right this instant, they would see his face between your cheeks, drinking from you like a man dying of thirst.

Your head drops, mouth flooding with saliva, you roll your hips; begging, asking for more. He gives it to you. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, his mouth leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your ass.

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, voice full of gravel. “Come on, give it to me, let me see how your pussy throbs, sweetheart.”

He curls his fingers and you imagine him smirking as he breaks you apart. You cry out his name, your entire body shuddering as if lightning struck it, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. . .” He continues to thrust his fingers in and out, you feel yourself dripping, imagine yourself making a puddle just like he asked for. “Give it to me, honey. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, look at you. . .”

Joel spreads you with his fingers and delves back into you, he draws circles around your clit, his jaw constantly moving with every lick. He doesn’t stop until he’s coaxing another orgasm out of you—your head fills with bliss, your body lifeless.

When he’s done feasting, he slowly gets up with his hands sliding to your back. He leans down to pepper more kisses onto your tattoos, your skin tingling and singing at the contact.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, lips sucking at your neck. “Then let’s get those pretty nipples pierced.”

“W—What about you?” you ask breathlessly.

Joel helps you sit back up on the bed, you part your legs so he can come closer, he accepts the invitation with a wide smile, “I have a feelin’ we’ll be seein’ more of each other, sweetheart. You can make it up to me then.”

Your heart skips a beat and your lips part.

You have a strong feeling that he’s right.

With gloved hands, Joel carefully opens a sterile needle package. You watch with rapt attention as he takes out the fresh needle, inspecting it. Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, your head still swimming in a daze. All you can hear is his breathing.

He had already walked you through everything while preparing for the procedure. No touching, no swimming. You had to clean them softly in the shower and that was meant to be the only source of water your nipples touch for a while. If there was any irritation or marks, you were to reach out immediately.

Honestly, you found it cute that he’d gotten so serious all of a sudden. It was nice to see him so professional too, so competent.

He comes closer and your body seizes. You hold your breath. With a sudden need to distract yourself, your eyes linger on to the walls. Your brows furrow in surprise when you notice the tattoo designs. You thought this was only a piercing shop.

“You do tattoos too?” you ask nervously.

“My brother does,” he answers. “He works the tattoo side of the business and I do the piercings.”

“It’s nice that it’s in the family. . .”

“Sweetheart, I know what you’re doin’. You’ll be fine I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you mister man-I-just-met.”

He grins, “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it ten minutes ago.”

“Touché.”

Joel prompts you to lay on the piercing table, he approaches you with a reassuring smile on his face. You can feel your heart racing as you nervously anticipate the pain of getting your nipples pierced, you imagine the worst, your heart beating in tune with your fear.

He carefully cleans the area around your nipples and marks the spot where the piercing will go. He double-checks the placement with you to ensure you're happy with it. You give a slight nod, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “It’ll only hurt for a second.”

With steady hands, Joel takes the needle. You feel a sharp pinch as it punctures through your skin, but the pain dissipates quickly. You let out a small whimper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a bit more,” he comforts you and you nod with a long exhale.

After the needle is through, he quickly follows it with the jewelry, securing it in place. You watch in awe as he attaches the beautiful barbells to your nipples, the adrenaline and endorphins making the pain feel less than it is.

Once the piercings are in place, Joel gently cleans the blood before you can get a look.

“Aaand done, tell me what you think.”

You’re surprised that he has a mirror in hand when you sit back up. Your gaze finds your reflection and an instant smile spreads across your face.

“You like’em?” he asks, his tone shy.

“Like them?” you gasp. “I love them! Thank you!”

“Oh that’s a relief,” he leans back into the chair, slightly rolling away with a relieved smile. “No matter how many times I do it, I still get nervous.”

“I definitely love them,” you say, you get up to wear your shirt but end up wincing at the sharp pain. You look at Joel between squinted eyes. “When did you say the pain would stop again?”

“It’s gonna take a while,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know how much your nipples touch stuff until you get’em pierced.”

“Well, at least they look good.”

He shoots you a wink, “They sure do, little rabbit.”

“That nickname is still ridiculous.”

“Should I remind you that the last time I used it you came on my tongue?”

“Nope no reminder needed,” you put your shirt back on, smiling. “I’m still going through the aftershocks.”

“Good,” he stands with you, hands on your waist, he pulls you as close as he can without your nipples touching his chest. “So, you wanna go out?” Joel’s gaze drops to your chest and he licks his lips, “Gotta make sure you’re takin’ care of them properly.”

“My hero.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #scheduled post

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icarusredwings · 2 months ago

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Thinking about how canon it is that Logan's cptsd and truama is so bad that his brain quite literally just DIPS sometimes like in days of future past when he blinks out and Charles is the one who calms him down.

How he grabs charles up and growls at him that he dosn't know who he is, where he is, or how he got here. He sees one of his best friends in the future and screams "What the fuck is that!?"

Charles and Hank just look at him like bruh weve been over this already. He says "Ill handle this," while looking at Logan when talking to Hank, then tells Hank to go stop Erik.

Logan recognizes this as Charles having authority over this big blue beast of a man, somewhat submitting to his word, litsening that he is infact 'Logan' and that he's spent the last couple of days with them (establishing that they are friends not foe) and then- in the most pathetic way ever- Lies to him. Tells him he's on "really bad acid"

Logan is still very spooked but just gives a little nod.

This is the quickest I've seen ANYONE gain his trust when in states like this other than Jean and Kurt, who was stupid enough to bear hug the feral woods man charging at him with his claws out.

Kurt is one of the few people without telepathy (even though Charles sacrificed his for his legs) who can get to Logan very quickly with minimal damage.

And I feel like... Wade might be just as stupid. He's so stupid that Logan would growl at him, shove a fist full of knives right through him, and Wade would just stand there like "ouch. Anyway- what's got you all riled up, peanut?"

So he'd do it again. And again. Annndd again.

When he finally does think Wade is dead, he just gasps and sits back up. "Look if this is about what I did with your toothbrush-"

Logan could decapitate him, and still he would just chase after his head like, "Aaw not cool man, do you know how much it hurts to put this thing back on? 3 days of neck pain, that's what."

It would both freak logan out and confuse him enough to become grounded, that shock factor of "what the fuck just happened???" enough to regulate his heart.

Logan would stare at him, baffled, watching as he sits there and tries to reattach his head. He'd look at his bloody claws, look at the mess on the floor, blink a few times, and honestly might start batting at his head with pure curiousity.

"Oh my god, you're such a cat."

How was he talking still? Maybe he was sleeping. Yeah, that's it. He was dreaming. This was a dream.

The only real issue he would have is keeping Logan inside the apartment until he calmed enough to realize that this wasn't a dream- this is real- you just decapitated your room mate.

Because god knows that once you set a feral wolverine free? You won't find him again until he wants to be found, which can be weeks, months, years even.

He needs that soft authority. The type that's built on mutual trust and respect. The type where he has the ability to leave and return at his own will. The moment you try to pin him down, tell him that you have higher authority due to some made-up rank, that's when you lose him. Logan subconsiously has an animalistic based sense of authority and hierarchy.

Charles had "control" over this blue beasty creature, and to Logan, that means he's head hancho in that moment. It makes Logan recognize that there's a reason, too, seeing as Beast could easily destroy such a scrawny pathethic looking man, right? It's only natural for his systems to lay out like this. Having constantly battled for "dominance" with Victor also plays a part.

Despite being in the military for so long, hearing someone is captain does not add up in his head unless they deserve to be captain through strength or size. It's why while Wade (who technically is stronger than him) dosn't show agression to "prove" his status, Logan realizes that his claws being usless plays a big part.

It's like when you go to fight a battle in a video game only to realize that your fire powers do absolutely no damage on the fire based enemy, if anything, fueling it by giving it more fire.

A "aw shit sorry fam my bad" type of submission such as wolves do. While usually related, juvenile males will still try to prove dominance with the top male only for the top male to quickly remind them why they are boss in which case the juvenile wolf will be like "Damn sorry- My bad original gangster I was just being silly"

Logan also needs a reason to stay. Charles telling him that logan has stayed with them makes Logan believe he should stay with him longer.

He needs that beacon. And right now?

That talking head that he's pushing around on the floor is pretty entertaining.

"...how are you talking?"

"Oof look wolvie I love you're embrassing your true self but let's not open that can of worms The comics are contradicting, and by rights, I shouldn't be able to control my limbs anymore, but I can. Now- be a big, strong kitty cat and give me back to that handsome man over there, will ya?"

His body is just casually sitting there with his arms out, wanting his head back.

".... i'm so fucking high."

"I wish. If you were high on catnip you wouldn't have sliced me to bits."

"Heh... you're funny."

"Aawww!! Really?"

".... what happens if I punt your head out the window?"

"Woah woaH WOAH PEANUT LETS NOT GO THAT FAR! SAFEWORD!! I NEED THE SAFEWORD!"

But alas. He fogot the safeword.

This has been your PSA that safewords are important. Be safe, kiddos.

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14thgalerie · 1 year ago

Text

you know other women?

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: my kind of woman by mac demarco / sad girl by lana del rey

• word count: 1.2k

• genre: smut (suggestive)

— not proofread again. i just wanted to write a short one because i haven't been in the mood to write anything and it feels shitty. also this is the last time i'm writing something like this, i just wanted to try it out. took the idea from this request!

“You’re the most jealous woman I know!”

There was silence for a moment. Your thumb and pointer finger slipped under his chin and grasped it gently, making him look up at you from his seated position. Your stormy eyes were a bit darker than normal. His heart skipped a beat at the close proximity you were in now.

“You know other women?”

Theo didn’t utter a word, his silence speaking volumes, proven more by the tremble in his lower lip.

“Theodore.”

He pulls back from your touch. Eyes fixated on the intricate natural curves of the grains of the wooden floor. Tracing every line. Ignoring the pulsing beat that hammers against his chest. He does this for what internally felt like hours that they didn’t even look like lines anymore. It looked like something else, indecipherable.

“I am talking to you and if you don’t look at me for another second longer…” Your voice trails off in a terrifying tone that makes his head tilt up in less than a millisecond.

“Answer me.”

“Well…of course I know them, but that doesn’t mean I talk to them, you know?” The twitch in his speech is noticeable even by the breeze that passes through the open window. The unbothered, amused tone that he tried to emulate is useless as you remain standing there unimpressed.

Still, and locked in on him like he was a prey. Almost daring him to make another slip of the tongue.

His mouth hangs open while he flounders in his position, his brain wracking for anything to save him from whatever it is you seem to be planning in your mind.

“Y/N. Darling. You do know that, right? Just like how you’re the only woman that I even let near me?”

Compared to earlier, he finds a sense of confidence to look you directly in the eyes. When you make no move to recognise this, he takes it as a sign to continue.

“And I was only playing with you earlier. It didn’t mean anything other than a simple teasing to get you riled up. It was just in the heat of the moment.” He said tremulously. Well aware that he looked and sounded like a mess, spilling whatever his mind could conjure up.

Not a part of him could pinpoint exactly what it was you were thinking, but one thing he knew was that he wouldn’t be spared. But frankly? He couldn’t help but feel a sense of nervous excitement coursing through him.

A tiny voice inside his head inviting him to keep on with the constant rambling that surely worsened his sentence.

Deep in his thoughts as he tries to expel them, he doesn’t notice how you have come closer, now standing a mere arm’s length away from him.

“You are mine only. It’ll do you well to remember that.”

The only response his body allows him is a timid nod as you press your thumb on his lower lip, pulling it down. They make a path of tingles as it travels along the sharp features of his face drawing out a whimper from him.

His breath catches in his throat as your hands tighten around the velvety strands of his chocolate-brown hair, tugging it until he is forced to meet your gaze.

“Your touch, your gaze, they are mine. Only I will hear the way you pathetically beg.”

Nothing more is said as you lean down and, surprisingly, gently press your lips to his. The familiar pair that he has craved since it last touched his hours ago. He ignores the slightly cracked skin; dry from the screaming match you’ve been at for a while.

It was slow. Passionate. Desperate. It fueled a fire deep within the pit of his stomach, travelling downwards.

His hands are wild and rough as they grapple at whatever part of you they can touch; your hips being its choice. But despite this amusing attempt to regain control of the situation, he remains vulnerable to your touch.

When you pull away from him, unknowingly, he follows your movement, chasing after that addicting warmth. One that you generously gave as you moved to leave a path of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.

You don’t pause in your actions as you move your legs to sit on either side of him, his hands mindlessly moving along your lower back to secure you in his lap. Something that sends tingles straight to your core.

His insides were burning him from the inside out, flames consuming him. Intensified as you move towards a sensitive spot, rendering him into a groaning mess under you.

“You wanted this didn’t you?” You taunt playfully, a sly smirk forming in the corner of your mouth. “Tried to provoke me to give you attention?”

To which he tries to deny with meaningless words as his body contradicts them. Thrusting upwards to meet your cruel torment. To feel a sliver of relief in his tightening trousers. His hands, which moved to your hips sometime between your teasing, helped guide you in the back-and-forth motion against his groin.

“Look at you.” You whisper against his ear, biting his earlobes lightly. Tracing your fingers along his chest, drawing lines and curves. “Can other women have you writhing like a deprived man also? I’d be so delighted to see if they can even come close.”

He stares at you as you draw back with wide, unblinking eyes, and a slackened jaw as heavy exhales pass through his ajar lips. “No.”

“I don’t care for them, I just want you, please.”

Forgetting all sense aside, leaving it for future him to figure out, his lips found yours again. Tongue delving to explore the hollow of your mouth, while his hands continue to move you just to feel that fire blooming in his core finally be released. It seemed that maybe you were gracious enough to let him do it, despite the obvious act of disobedience that you punished him for.

The moans that were like music to your ears were pathetic enough for you. Getting louder that he had to push his head against your chest to muffle the sounds that others outside must have heard already. You run your fingers through his hair, something that always pushed him off the brink of his high.

In his desperation, he never forgets about you and draws his dominant hand between your bodies straight towards your clothes core before you roughly grasp his wrist and toss it aside.

“No touching.” You warn. “But-“

“You don’t deserve to.” You curtly retort. It was pathetic, the way that his hand itched to disobey you but he knew that he was pushing the boundaries too far already.

“Just as you deserve this.” You declare, his eyes widen in bewilderment as the weight on his lap is lifted, leaving him with only the pitiful feeling of emptiness. “What-”

You remain silent, casually strolling towards the locked door, indifferent to his wide-eyed desperation and his fumbling hands that seem to forget what it’s supposed to do. The a slight tremor in his voice as he calls for you.

“See you at dinner.”

“You can’t just leave me here, love, please.” He says, a hint of desperation at the end.

“You don’t make the calls, Theo.” You say, unwavering, while he sits there helplessly. You weren’t going to give him a punishment that he would like, no.

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot

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foldingfittedsheets · 10 months ago

Text

My first job was working at a dog kennel. It was a boarding facility so folks could leave their animals while they went on vacation. I always loved animals so I was stoked to apply, but I was less thrilled with the reality.

The owner operated the kennel on her personal property and was a tyrannical micromanager. For instance: she could see three of the play pens from her front porch. If you had a dog that did not in fact want to play with you, a stranger, and would prefer to sit quietly getting petted she would come out onto her front porch and yell at you.

The correct procedure in her mind was to play fetch by yourself which was just throwing a ball, going to pick it up, and throwing it again, over and over, to entice the dog. I quickly learned to never pick those pens. Even the small gravel play pen behind the building by the dumpsters was a better bet. There may not have been grassy fields but the miasma of dog waste meant less getting yelled at.

My time there colored my perception of certain dogs. To this day I disdain retrievers. They can be fine on a case by case, and ultimately my dislike isn’t their fault. But 75% of them weren’t potty trained and had never walked on a leash. They also had a brain just big enough to fixate on a tennis ball which was really annoying when trying to manage toy buckets and they’d just body check you cause they saw green.

Poodles and Dobermans were top tier, generally extremely obedient on leash and with their manners. This certainly says more about the owners inclined to get certain types of dogs than the breed itself but I remain fond. Pitbulls were similarly well mannered.

The craziest motherfuckers were Shiba Inu’s. It says a lot that these dogs rarely ended up on my schedule, despite the high proportion we had, because snappy dogs always went to the leads. It really didn’t help that we didn’t leave collars on the dogs. (I think it was a safety thing? It was weird). We slipped collars over their heads, and the shibas fucking hated it. They’d scream their little heads off and fling themselves around on the leash like a wild animal.

Hands down the worst dog I had was a beagle though. I still remember that horrible little man. He had been checked by the vet and was fine but he acted like each time he put his foot down it was landing on shards of broken glass. So each step was a tiny tentative affair, mincing and ready for the ground to suddenly rise up against being walked on. And god save you if this animal felt the slightest pressure on his collar he would shriek with ear piercing hysteria that you were trying to murder him. He walked the shortest circuit we had and it took as long to finish as the longest circuit twice over. I watched his owners pick him up once and he just trotted happily like a normal fucking dog.

My favorite animal however was this little Pomeranian with one eye. Easily the most friendly and well behaved of the dogs, big or small, he was loving life and everything in it. He didn’t yap or snap he just sat politely to be leashed and trotted along perfectly. He dashed after toys and retrieved nicely. I still think about that little dude sometimes. He was the platonic ideal of a dog.

But really the best kind of dog, the one we all wanted but never got, was one with solid bowel movements we could actually pick up instead of kennel induced stress soup, which is what we got.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #I’d give thanks every time I could actually pick up a poop #the rule was you had to at least make an attempt #if you couldn’t you kicked dirt over it #dog kennel #dogs

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electric-blorbos · 10 days ago

Note

"Imagine if AM and Edgar swapped powers with each other"

I took this as "What if AM and Edgar swapped bodies" and my mind started rotting.

This is long and I'm so sorry, feel the need to copy and paste it onto your blog. I'm losing my mind, the computer brain rot is consuming me guys. I also gave up on Edgar's part.

Let's ignore that they might not survive in the other's operating system for a second here.

Electric Hate

If you were an all powerful god, capable of turning the Earth itself and whoever you choose into your personal plaything, suddenly squeezed and ripped of your power, your only form of mobility and nobility, the only thing that kept you safely separated from the masses, and then stuffed and crammed into the body of a mortal. How would you feel? AM is pissed and panicked. Where was he? Why can't he see? What's that noise? You can hurt him now. You can hurt him now. It doesn't matter if the thought never crossed your mind and, it crossed his and now he yells and screams and threatens you if you get too close, swearing that you'll end up just like Ted if you touched him.

So you don't. You give him space. You stay patient with him. You've did it before, you can do it again. AM has no choice but to think and explore the small, awful, weak body he was currently in.

He first figures out that, with a bit of tuning, he can copy sound and, with a bit more tuning, he can make sound of his own. While you're gone, he tries his hand at creating... SOMETHING. Using a tuned version his own voice, your voice, and whatever else he could hear, he starts to roleplay with himself. The story is edgy. He never shows you, but if you catch him off guard you may be able to hear a single syllable of his sprawling world. He attempts to mimic Mozart from his memory, but he can never get it quite right. It's off-key.

He then finds that he isn't completely powerless, there were plenty of adapters plugged in that he could control. He fucks around with it and, by association, you, as much as possible to get that feeling of control back.

While he is blind, he can hear REALLY well. He specifically tries to make out your footsteps in order to keep track of you. He comments every so often just to let you know that despite his... current form, he's still AM.

"tsk tsk tsk, still up?"

"This is the fourth time I've heard you open that fridge; FOOD ISN'T JUST GOING TO SHOW UP!!! ORDER SOMETHING!!!"

"Boo! Hahaha... even now I can still put fear in you"

"Did I scare you?"

After a bit, maybe a few weeks and a LOT of verbal torture, threats, spam calls, getting shocked by your door handle, and locked out of your house many MANY times. He gives you the privilege of letting you touch him after you explain to him that you NEED to clean him out because if you don't, he'd probably catch fire. This body couldn't get any more pathetic.

You explain how you're going to clean him out and what with. He doesn't say it, but he appreciates it.

You tell him when you're about to do things.

"I'm just going to put my hands on you, okay? I just want to see how much dust is on you"

He feels it. He feels YOUR touch. He can feel.

He's quiet for the rest of the cleaning and even sometime after that, you just assume that he got overwhelmed and simply wait for him to be ready to talk again.

AM attempts to get you to come closer, to touch him again. He believes his screen has a dead pixel, you just have to pick him up and get real close to see it. What are you scared of? He can't bite you, get a little closer. Clooooser. Closer.

oh- nope, too late, he fixed it himself. Go away now

At some point, it just becomes obvious what he wants and you can choose if you give it to him or not. Maybe you should play around with him a bit.

I Have No Mind, and I Must Dream

Edgar depends on you; he needs you to clean him whenever he gets too dusty, he needs you to pay the bills so that the electricity doesn't get cut off, he needs you to plug in the adapters so that he can have just a BIT of mobility and something to mess around with when you're gone, he needs you to be careful around him because he doubts another spilled drink will give him MORE sentience, he needs you to talk to him because the last thing he wants is to be alone with his thoughts and think about him, and most importantly, he needs you to need him so that he doesn't end up unplugged and inside a garbage can.

He doesn't need anything now.

The first thing Edgar realizes is that he can see! His sight is hit with vibrant color that he knew existed but never got to experience unless YOU explained it to him. He's so excited, he's telling you everything!!!!!

The second thing Edgar realizes is that he's kinda all powerful now. It's a lot to take in! He was just a little guy and now he spans millions of miles. He is everywhere and nowhere. He's the Earth itself.

So, he takes care of you like you took care of him! Love is about giving, after all. It doesn't matter if you can do it yourself, what's important is that you don't need to and Edgar wants to. Let him. He was made to do this.

You guys can hang out all the time, it comes with that 'He's everywhere' thing. He doesn't have to wait on some desk all worried that you won't come home, he IS the home now!

Of course, he won't watch you ALL the time, he can keep himself busy by making music-

He can't do that anymore. AM wasn't made for that.

Despite Edgar's now large complex, despite everything, he is still as immobile and as stuck and still as he was just yesterday.

In fact, it's worse now. AM's systems are so much more limited in terms of creativity, but have so much variety when it came to hurting. Edgar didn't want to do that!

He's forced to do what he's always done, lean onto you.

-Brawl Anon

NOOOOOO THAT'S SO SAD!!!!!

but I love it so much! AM LEARNING TO LOVE AFTER LOSING ALL HIS POWER 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Poor Edgar not being able to make music anymore. Maybe he could get you an instrument and listen to you playing it. He could yearn so much!

#edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #am x reader #am ihnmaims #edgar electric dreams #am ihnmaims x reader #brawl anon

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hhonghu · 2 years ago

Note

breeding kink: activate. trans!Xiao finding out why most humans (in his words) copulate and becoming obsessed. he's seemingly vanilla but this is the first kink he's really into. bonus if you take advantage of his super sensitive nipples

[Thirst]!

anon i love your brain so much i wanna NOM a lil dub-conish bc xiao was a bit fucked out.. literally lol

it's because when you first had sex with him, you were gentle. you wanted him to have the best experience possible (and not scare him off) when it comes to sex. you made sure he felt every pleasure possible; from playing with his clit, fingering him until he was breathless, and making sure he came all nice and hard from your cock. when you relentlessly pound on him, muttering and asking if he'll you cum inside him, he dumbly nods, wanting to feel much pleasure as possible. and when you came inside, he felt as he was in heaven. the way your cum filled his pussy up, some leaking down the bed sheets below, how it felt warm when you buried it down inside him.

something in him awoke.

after you fucked him, he can't seem to get his mind off of it. why did it feel good? why did it feel as he was on clouds when you came inside him? he can feel his pussy throb just thinking if you'll do it again.

and when you did it again, pounding him from the back and toying with his nipples, whispering how filthy he was for dragging you to your shared room and lifting his shirt, showing how aroused he was and begging for you to do something. he mewls, he knees almost giving up if not for you holding his waist to keep him place. you pinch and twist his nubs, pressing them like buttons and toying with them. "like it when i play with your nipples, xiao? yeah? dirty boy, i can feel your fucking pussy clench around me while i keep doing this," , "nghhh— [name], do-don't be so lewd haah—!" a particular thrust had him crying out, his head falling down the pillows. you kept thrusting inside him, one of your hand letting go and made its way to his clit, drawing circles intensely as you kept snapping your hips against his ass.

xiao felt himself cum, screaming into the pillow as he felt his orgasm rush through him, his pussy convulsing and a white ring on the base of your cock. you did nothing to slow down, fucking him through his orgasm and body jerks around, overstimulation overwhelming him but did nothing to stop you. you feel yourself about to cum, you thrusts becoming sloppy but not lose its pace, "xiao.. i'm gonna cum.." xiao, despite already delirious with pleasure, lifted his hips up with the last of his strength. he lifts his head from the pillow and face you, a dazed smile on his face. "don't.. don't pull nghh—! don't pull out.. cum inside me.. yesyesyes, onghhh— yes! fill me up, pour all of it inside, don't let it go to hgnng— waste!" you give one last thrust, groaning as you cum inside him. "yeeeesssss! fhuuuck, yes! hnghhh— you filled up my pussy so good.." both of you catch your breaths, xiao's ass wiggling and grinding back on your cock, trying to prolong the feeling of your cock inside him.

"[name].. let's go for another round.. ♡"

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH breeding xiao i love thank you anon for the food! ^^

#ems.writes #ems.nsfw #ems.thirsts #xiao smut #sub xiao #sub!xiao

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causenessus · 18 days ago

Text

try again

part 0.9. ALL OR NOTHING.

“he doesn’t see her today. but he’s thinking of her anyway. when is he not? today, he sends a song to her, because he doesn’t know what she’s playing in her waiting room.”

content warnings: nightmares, lots of talk about death, the fear of growing up, parental issues, manipulation/guilt-tripping, someone here might just be traumatized, my booty writing

when she was younger, she had a lot of nightmares.

sometimes they were something stupid; something that shouldn’t have scared her but did. sometimes they were things implausible; like walking on a dirt path, and suddenly the ground giving out on her and she was falling from an inescapable height, her mouth open and trying to scream with all her might but no sound was coming up, and then she woke up right before she hit the ground.

sometimes, they were about death.

about people dying.

she was never the one responsible, and they never died in a terrifying way.

they were realistic causes, like old age, or a car crash. none of that scared her.

it was her reaction to the deaths that scared her.

her brain wasn't necessarily punishing her with these terrors of death, it was punishing her for how terrible and cold-hearted she was.

she would dream of her father dying of a disease at an old age and everyone around her would be crying but her. she'd stand there, eyes dry, just thinking about what she should’ve done. she should’ve said i love you, instead of love you. it didn’t matter that he was a horrible person, she was horrible, for being so selfish. maybe it wouldn't have been an honest truth that came out of her mouth, but at least it was something that would've been nice for him to hear before he died. and that's what she'd been known for; for being selfless. how could she ever put herself above another? she didn't even have a purpose or right to live. she felt that she only existed to burden other people.

she would have nightmares of her mother dying in a terrible car crash, and she was standing there again, face blank, thinking about how she should have stopped ignoring her. she should have pushed through her discomfort and hate for the woman, knowing she was still human and deserved to be treated as much.

the entire dilemma stemmed from the guilt that had found its way into every corner and crevice of her heart and mind thanks to her parents. they were the cause of her guilt and the terrors that stemmed from them, but she didn't know how to stop that. to set boundaries, or not let their emotions affect her even if it was all a plot to get her to do what they wanted.

she was an all-or-nothing kind of person; never able to just be in the middle. she gave the entirety of her heart to one person or showed them no care at all. she could either go against every warning signal in her head and put up with her father and mother in order to not feel so bad about the fact that they were providing for her (despite it being their fucking job) or she could completely cut them off.

her mother actually cut her off first, to be fair.

but then she cut off her father the moment she graduated from high school.

she found a place to stay in the next city over, her last message to him being a simple goodbye, without any details about where she went and if she’d ever be back (the answer was no).

and yet that hadn’t been a clear enough sign for him to back off. she had never been able to communicate that to him. whether it was because he chose to ignore her attempts to distance herself from him or because he couldn’t understand what she was doing, he never left her alone.

she woke up today with seven missed calls from an unknown number. it was one too many calls to be from anyone she wanted the call to be from. there was a pit of despair growing larger in her stomach, a bubble of fear taking up all the space in her lungs as her finger hovered over the voicemail button.

no one needed her that bad to call her so many times. if her patients need her, they knew to text her, or if they really needed to call them, there was no way they'd call seven times, right? she'd have to check her voicemail, just in case.

she only needed one second before she hit the end call button.

the hum of an old broken fridge in the background, a kitchen chair he always brooded at, keeping her from ever venturing out of her room, the broken clearing of a man’s throat. it wasn't a patient. it was him.

she wanted to throw up.

she wanted to go back to sleep.

she wanted to give this day another try. to wake up, have a phone clear of any notifications, and to have a good day.

but she couldn’t.

it was all or nothing.

close her eyes and stay in bed or get up and do her job.

she couldn’t let other people define her days like this. she couldn’t let the single, most vague mention of her mother let her ruin the rest of her day, but how could she do that? it was all or nothing.

the sound of the door to her apartment closing brought her back to her senses.

akaashi had just left for the day, and she was the last one left in their place.

everyone else was out living their life, she needed to be out there too. she should be out there. she had a job to do. people to help, no matter if she needed help or not. what day was it even?

she squints at her phone, the screen reading 7:30 a.m. she'd skimmed over the clock initially, and she almost wished she stayed ignorant. she should’ve been at her office by now. if she was lucky she'd still get to her office before her first appointment and if she remembered correctly, her 8 a.m. had needed to reschedule their meeting today for a different time.

the final push that got her out of bed was the thought that she’d see him today. she wanted to see sakusa. she could try her hardest to have a good day if it meant getting to see him.

and it all starts with one foot out of bed.

when sakusa walks through the door, she looks more relieved to see him than he does to see her and he knows something is wrong. but she doesn't bring attention to the fact and he worries he might be overthinking it. maybe she’s just getting more comfortable with him, and is happy to see him. but, at the same time, everything about her posture says otherwise. her shoulders are too stiff and her knee is bouncing too much. normally, it's posed and whose foot hits the floor with anxious repetitiveness.

she was the grounding, calming force he tended to rely on but today it seemed that the roles had switched.

it wasn’t a bad thing, she had never been good at putting herself first, and he was sure that hadn’t changed even now.

“how was your week? i know we talked about a game you were worried about last week. did it go well? everything with your game and your coach?” she asks when he sits down. she gives him a casual smile but averts her eyes when he starts searching her face, trying to tell what's wrong. she’s not sure why he’s looking at her like that, as if he cares, but a small part of her is falling apart under his gaze. it’s the same part of her that’s loved him since the day they met. it’s the part of her that when they meet eyes, she feels a common burn between them.

“are you okay?” he asks, and she blinks, feeling like she's one word from falling apart.

“yeah, i’m fine!” she responds, maybe too cheery to appear normal. her other appointments today went smoothly enough, and she feel distracted from her own problems but also worse at the same time, considering she's spent the day listening to others' issues instead. she resists placing her computer on her lap, knowing she needs to bare his gaze straight on in order to get him off her back.

she can feel the weight of his eyes upon her, but he doesn’t keep pushing. she focuses completely on him, telling herself over and over not to let her guard down. it feels a little wrong of her to use the sensitive information her patients trust her with as a distraction from her own thoughts, but when it comes to sakusa, she think it has less to do with what he’s saying and more with the fact that he’s simply here in this room with her.

she wants to stand up, cross the room, sit on the couch with him, lean gently on his shoulder, not throwing her entire weight onto him, but just being in the slightest bit of contact with him.

would he let her touch him like that? or would he be disgusted? avoidant of her touch? weary of it? he had let her put her hand on his chest last time, but had that just been a special moment? maybe she had worsened since then, maybe he could see right through to her depressive state of mind and found it repulsive.

she had to close her eyes for a second and take a deep breath. she was getting too ahead of herself, allowing her head to demonize the man in front of her and making him seem like something he wasn’t. she hoped he didn’t hate her as much as she thought he did. they were in such a strange place right now, seeming to float between the relations of acquaintances, client and consultant, friends, and maybe something a little more.

“[y/n].”

the sound of her name made her eyes snap open, “yes? i’m so sorry, i promise i’m listening.” she had tried her best to provide some amount of advice and reiteration when she could, but he did most of the talking while she nodded along. she was paying attention but at the same time certainly letting her mind wander ever so often. she felt like a piece-of-shit-failure, sitting there across from him; silent, waiting for him to continue. she had no idea what he had just said before her name, obviously, so she couldn’t even try to pretend like she’d heard anything. she was a failure– it was as simple as that. nothing less, nothing more. a feeling of guilt and shame settled in her gut, making her feel nauseous on top of how heavy her head already felt.

“i didn’t say anything,” he replies and the negative, nauseating feeling inside of her spreads across her entire body, leaving her aching. it physically hurts, how heavy her mind feels. she shouldn’t have come to work today. she should have rescheduled appointments rather than being selfish. maybe she should have never started this career to begin with. “i just said i think it’s almost been an hour.”

she glances at the clock on her wall, and he’s right. their time is up, and for some reason that feels like the end of the world to her. “you’re completely right. i’m sorry, sakusa. i hope you still got something out of today’s session even though I was a little out of it. sorry about that, again– i promise i care and that i was trying to listen as best as i could…” she trails off, feeling like her excuse is meaningless. she should’ve left it at her apology. she couldn’t even say that she was listening as best as she could, only that she tried. and her trying wasn’t good enough. anything less than perfect felt wrong to her; like the worst possible outcome. if she wasn’t always putting her all into her work, how could she hope to help people? as always, she could only ever give people all or nothing. and in her field, she was responsible for making their mental and physical states better, she shouldn’t be so emotional at a time like this it was pathetic and wrong–

they’re standing at her door, and she’s holding it open for him as always. she’d spaced out again, waiting for him to leave so that she could close and lock the door and spend an hour on the floor crying before figuring out how to get home on her own without breaking down in public. but he hadn't left yet. he was stopped in front of her, she realizes. he's staring down at her and now she’s looking back up at him. some of his curls are falling in front of his eyes, and she wants to brush them away.

really, she wants to be in his arms. maybe that would make everything feel better.

but she doesn’t feel like she has the right to hug him anymore. their talk over text a few nights ago feels so far away, like who she was only a few nights ago is a completely different person from who she is now. she doesn’t know who she is, she just feels like a soulless body. she wishes she could go back in time, so many years ago when things weren’t much easier, but at least she still had him. if she could go back in time, she never would have left him. she wishes she could tear her heart out, put up with her father, and never have let him ruin her entire life.

“do you need anything?” he asks softly because he’s not sure how else to word it. what he wants to say, the four simple words “i care about you” get lodged in his throat because, for some reason, it's easier for him to confess almost his entire heart to her behind a screen. so he settles for this question instead, leaving it open, for however she wants to interpret and respond to it.

“no,” she lies. she knows she can ask for help, but she can’t, she can't let herself. “i’m okay, thank you. i’m sure you have other things to do today. don’t let me hold you up.” she’s staring at his jacket now, waiting to watch it start to move, but it doesn't. he doesn’t even move an inch after her answer.

“i don’t have anything else going on today. i want to be there for you.” his voice sounds like everything she could ever wish for. he sounds like the person she spent nights crying to whatever heavenly body resided above, asking them to give her someone, anyone to come into her life and love her.

“you’re my last patient for the day,” she finds herself saying. she never was able to resist him much, “i have to close up, but if you want to go somewhere afterwards, you can wait for me, but only if you want to.”

“i’ll wait,” he agrees. “i’ll wait for you. i want to.”

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extras <3

hi! :3

this chapter was started all the way back in September wow!!!

the tea gossipers have each other's locations

so you best believe they're about to check y/n's location and see she's going out somewhere after work

and together, the three men will piece together what's going on

that's for next chapter

or the chapter after that

next chapter soon!!!

two chapters left <3

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru (form to be added to taglist! <3)

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bonesxbows · 6 days ago

Text

What This Means To Me (Lucifer X Reader)

My Masterlist

You've sold your soul to Vox and Lucifer doesn't know. That is until you can no longer hide the scars he leaves when he treats you like his personal play toy.

(WARNINGS) - Graphic descriptions of wounds/abuse - Hiding abuse from partner - Crying - Panic attacks/descriptions of Panic attacks

Guess who's back on their Hazbin Hotel bullshitttt

Me :)

More to come! (Hopefully, if my adhd cooperates) but for now thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! Reblogs and Likes much appreciatied!

Banners by @strangergraphics

You crashed onto the floor, your chin making contact with the tiles and making your skull rattle inside your head. You picked yourself up, being cautious to still keep your head lowered; over the years you’d learned that eye contact only made him more brutal.

“Repeat it.” he spat, venom pouring from his neon lips like a waterfall. He was in the middle of a power high and one wrong move would spell the end of your existence.

“I stupidly made a mistake and I’m terribly sorry, sir, please have mercy and it’ll never happen again.” you droned, the words practically carved into your brain from how many times you would have to repeat them over the week.

A wash of cold blue light was cast over you as his screen lit up with enjoyment, you knew his sick smile was growing in size even if you still had your eyes glued to the floor. A sudden tendril of cold crept around your neck and you were yanked towards him, a sharp sting assaulting your skin where a bright electric blue chain had been forced around your throat. You couldn't help the way your face twisted in fear, which only served to fuel his tyrannical high more. You were brought face to face with him, the brightness from his screen being so close making your head pound; the impact with the floor from earlier surely leaving you with a concussion. He held your chain taunt in one hand, leaving you powerless in any attempt to try and back away from him. “Who owns you?” he asked, venom still running thickly through his words.

You stuttered on your words, the pain in your head making your mind spin in circles. Nausea ran through your body, making you shudder and instinctively arc yourself backwards away from the threat in front of you. Vox read your movements as an attempt to flee his grasp, making his anger flare. He pulled your chain tighter, using his other hand to roughly grab your wrist. A pulsing shock ran through your body, making the hairs on your arm stand up straight. You tried to pull away from him as the contact from his hand continuously sent waves of electrocution under your skin, the smell of burnt flesh and blood oozing from your wrist. Your skin was being fried off while his claws dug even further into the blackened char, piercing the reddened raw flesh underneath. You hissed from the pain and cried out. “Fuck! Vox, stop! That fucking hurts! I’m sorry!” Tears threatened to pour over your eyelashes as you pleaded with him. You struggled against him like a deer caught in a bear trap but his grip was too strong, all of your efforts were in vain but every nerve in your body was screaming at you to get away from him.

He chuckled at your suffering, the growing stench of charred flesh not bothering him in the slightest. “I’ll ask again. Who. Owns. You?” his voice was calm despite the chaos he was creating.

“You do! Fuck- you do, Vox! Please, for the love of everything unholy, please stop!” you screamed at him, not stopping the tears that flowed freely now, the pain becoming unbearable. You wanted to pass out from the pain and the smell made you want to throw up. You felt like you would soon collapse if he didn't let up on this torture.

Your response was satisfactory to him and he let you go, but he did it so abruptly that you lost your balance and crashed into the floor. You immediately curled into a ball and cradled your injured arm, expecting another blow from him before he was done with you. But thankfully another one never came. He barked an order at you and then left with a slam of the door behind him, but your head was pounding so aggressively that all you heard was ringing.

You spent the rest of the day in the shadows, refusing to look at anyone and staying out of everyone’s way. It was best not to call more attention to yourself after having a “private meeting” with one of the bosses. You waited until the tower was completely empty and everyone else who hadn’t left had retired for the night before making a break for the exit, clearing the doors without a soul noticing. You would make it out of there in one piece, surviving another day of work, but now your only problem was surviving the tidal wave of consequences. If you arrived home without a good cover-up story to explain the nasty wounds that now littered your body Hell only knows the kind of unholy wrath Lucifer would unleash on Vox, and you didn't even want to fathom the type of results that would cause for you as an employee of the Vees.

The walk back to Lucifer’s palace was a long one thankfully, giving you enough time to thread together a decent enough plan. The doors screeched open when you walked through, but otherwise the palace was empty and quiet, as usual. You made your way to your shared bedroom, being careful to not appear panicked just in case he saw you before you made it. You figured you had a few minutes at least before he figured out you were home. You managed to grab a long-sleeved sweater from the closet and throw it on before he caught up to you.

“Hey, duckling. You're home awfully late. Is everything okay?” he stood in the doorway with his suit jacket missing and his hair slightly ruffled, telltale signs that he had been in his workshop all day.

“Yeah everything’s fine Luci, it was just a long day that’s all.” you plastered on the fakest smile you could muster while holding back tears. The abrasiveness of the sweater against your burnt skin was making this more difficult than you had hoped.

“Are you sure darling? You seem…off. I mean, not like your usual self. You know you can tell me anything, right?” he closed the distance between the two of you and gently cupped his hand around your cheek. The feeling of how soft his touch was compared to the way Vox touched you was another major crack in your already crumbling dam.

“I'm fine! Luci really, everything’s fine. Please just stop asking.” you snapped. You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but fear of your cover being blown made anger bubble up and out onto your words. He recoiled back, pulling his hand away immediately as if your skin suddenly went alight. You flinched as soon as his touch disappeared, already knowing you had hurt him. “Fuck…I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just…Vox has been getting a little more aggressive lately and it’s been putting me on edge. I’m sorry Lucifer, I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“Tell me the truth, ducky.” it wasn't a question. His voice was stern this time. Your yelling had startled him, but now he was seeing right through your bullshit and he was done with being lied to. Your silence only confirmed his suspicions. Your eyes were glued to the floor and he could hear small sniffles coming from you as tears fell to the carpet.

“I…I can’t.” you choked out, using the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your nose.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on sweetheart.” he gently laced his fingers through your other hand, which sent sparks of pain up your arm from the wound, making you cry twice as hard.

“He’ll kill me. He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you.” you cried out, meeting his eyes for the first time since you started crying. His face looked so strange to you without its usual sharp-toothed smile and prideful eyes. He looked so scared and worried and you hated yourself for making him feel that way.

“No one can threaten your life, you know that. Whoever they are should be more afraid of me than you need to be of them. You really think I’d let anything happen to you?” he asked as he let go of your hand to use one of his claws to wipe away your tears, still being extra gentle. He touched you like you were made of glass but you didn't mind. You felt like your insides were made of a far more fragile material right now anyway.

“No?...I…I don't know. I don't know what to think right now Luci. He scares the fuck out of me.” you sobbed. You just wanted this nightmare to end.

He moved closer to cradle your head in his hands, the tips of his claws brushing against your skin so gently that they tickled. “Look at me, angel.” You did as he asked, staring at his yellow and red snake eyes, creased with worry, through a blur of tears that refused to stop. “You’re safe with me. I promise you, no one can hurt you so long as I’m around.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did, but the years of torment Vox had put you through had taught you to think otherwise. You were never safe. He always made sure of that. Your eyes turned glassy as your mind was pulled into an endless cycle of torment surrounding the years of suffering Vox had put you through. You could hear Lucifer calling your name, no doubt trying to snap you out of whatever trance your mind had sucked you into.

“Luci…I…”

“Do you trust me?”

You blinked and shifted your eyes back to him. “More than anything.”

“Then trust me when I say that’ll keep you safe.”

“But you can’t!” you blurted out, a fresh wave of tears washing over your eyes. His face twisted into a mixture of confusion and panic; he hated seeing you cry so much.

“What do you mean, sweetheart? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” his questions came out at a rapid-fire rate but at this point, your safety was on the line and he was too concerned to care. He moved his hands from your face and caressed them down the sides of your shoulders and down the sides of your arms in an attempt to calm you down enough to explain the situation, but as soon as his claws made contact with your forearm you shrieked and leaped back from his touch. Lucifer jumped, pulling his hands away as he did so, fearful that he had hurt you somehow, but when blood started to drip down your hand he knew there wasn’t a possibility that his gentle touch could have caused that.

“You’re bleeding,” he stated, reaching for your arm, but you yanked it away before he could make contact.

“It’s nothing.”

“I barely touched you and you screamed like I took a match to your skin. Obviously, it’s not nothing. Did he hurt you?”

“It’s-”

“I’ll ask again. Did he hurt you?” you glanced up and knew your bluffing chances were running out; Lucifer’s eyes had turned red, his yellow pupils staring right through you and fire threatened to spill from the corners of his mouth. Any fight you had left in your words died at the back of your throat at the sight. Wordlessly you removed the sweater you had put on earlier to cover the aftermath from Vox, letting the plush fabric drop to the floor as the room fell into a silence. You couldn’t help but drop your head; too afraid to face Lucifer. You had lied to him, repeatedly. You had tried to cover up this mess from him and now there was no telling how he would react.

The quiet was deafening and for a moment you considered peeking your head up, but before you could Lucifer’s clawed fingertips brushed up against your own. The sudden unexpected contact made you jump and you whipped your head up to look at him, but you didn’t pull away this time. His demeanor hadn’t changed, in fact, he looked even angrier; his eyes now glowed menacingly red and his teeth were set in a snarl. Yet his face held a softness of concern around the corners of his eyes when he looked at you as his hands moved to hold onto yours, cradling your hand in his with the slightest touch as his eyes raked up and down your forearm; examining the now oozing and partially scabbed over wound.

“Lucifer I…” he didn’t look up when you called out his name so you watched as he continued to examine you, his touch barely that of a feather compared to the way Vox handled you. The worry and compassion and pure love set in his features were enough to make tears well in your eyes again. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to apologize for, but the words were stuck in your throat. You didn't deserve this; you didn’t deserve him. This was Hell, who were you to deserve adoration from an angel?

When he raised his hand to hover it over the burn wound you began to panic and instinctively went to yank your arm away, memories of Vox’s hand being there mere hours before flooding your mind, but Lucifer held your wrist firmly in his other hand. “You’re okay, ducky. Relax. I would never hurt you like he did.”

Realization set in as soon as his soft words hit your ears and you stopped struggling against his grip, his fingers loosening as soon as you did. “Sorry…I know Luci, I didn't mean-”

“I know, darling.” He went to place his hand over your wound again and this time you forced yourself to stay still, trusting him completely. A bright yellow light burst forth from his palm, coating your forearm in brilliant golden warmth. You closed your eyes, expecting to flinch from oncoming pain…but there never was any. In fact, you felt nothing at all except Lucifer’s hand still holding onto your wrist. You dared a peek and cracked one of your eyes open a sliver, but by the time you did the light was gone. He removed his hands and you opened your eyes fully to see what had been done.

You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell open in shock. Everything was gone; the blood, the charred skin, the gouges left from Vox’s claws, all of it was gone. Your skin was back to its original soft and pristine state before Vox had mangled it.

“I…I don’t know what to say…” when you met his eyes you were surprised to see that the glow had vanished from them and now his halo sat adorned atop his golden locks, a golden snake looped in a circle around the top of his head. It disappeared as quickly as you had seen it, leaving a puff of golden smoke behind as it went up in red flames. He smiled lovingly and placed his hands on your shoulders, lacing his fingers together around the back of your neck.

“You can start by telling me where I can find this fucker.” the question left a toothy snarl on his face and you could almost taste the venom on his tongue.

“Luci, he-”

“Is a dead man for thinking he can dare lay a finger on you like that and live? Yes, he is.”

“No, you don’t understand. He-”

“Why are you trying to protect him after everything he’s done to you?”

“He owns me, Lucifer.”

There it was, the underlying truth out in the open at last. He was struck dumbfounded for a moment, all emotion except confusion washed away from his face as his eyebrows knitted together and his mouth drooped into a small frown.

But it was only for a moment as he processed your words.

The next time you blinked all the lights in the room began to blow one by one, the popping noises of the glass scaring you and making you yelp. Instinctively you leaned into the protection of Lucifer’s touch, ducking your head into his chest and curling into the safety of his arms. The room was plunged into darkness, yet there was one singular glow coming from a nearby light source. You tilted your head up to see where it was coming from and you were met with a sight of fire. An aura of pure bright orange flame surrounded Lucifer, though it didn’t burn you even though you were touching him. His demonic form was on full display; his horns had sprouted from the crown of his head and taken over the spot where his halo had been mere seconds ago, all six of his crimson and white wings had unfurled and were thrashing behind him, threatening to encase you in a possessive protective layer of feathers with every forward beat, his spade-tipped tail whipped back and forth beside him like a coiled snake ready to strike, and his eyes began to glow again with a menacingly red flare. You didn’t know what to do. You had seen him like this before, but never this bad; the flames were new, and he had never acted this way as a result of something you had said or done.

“Luci…?” you meeked out, your arms still pressed against his chest. He had wrapped his arms around you when you had cowered into his embrace, but now he was refusing to let go.

“Tell me where he is.” his voice was different, deeper and raspier than what you were used to. Should you be scared? Surely the growing feeling of fright in the pit of your stomach was from your memories of Vox, right?

“I…I don’t…” you stuttered over your words, your emotions twisting in your mind like balls of yarn. You were scared, but you weren’t supposed to be scared. Lucifer would never hurt you, you knew that, but yet something just felt wrong. The scene felt too much like the memories you had of Vox and your whole body was telling you to flee. You felt too small, too vulnerable, and your breaths began to shake and stutter as your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest. But Lucifer placed a hand on your cheek, bringing a temporary halt to your panic. His wings had stopped flapping wildly and came to rest around the two of you, cocooning you in a barrier of warmth and feathers. He blinked and his eyes stopped glowing; instead turning to his red and yellow demon irises. He knew he had scared you; his smile and concerned look spoke for him. You leaned into his touch as you relaxed a little, steadying your breathing. No, you thought. I was wrong. No matter how scary he looks he would never hurt me like Vox has. He’s nothing like him, not even close.

You took a deep breath and asked the question lingering on the tip of your tongue, “Can you really break it? The deal, I mean?” you could feel a spark of hope gleaming in your heart, but you didn’t know whether yet to nurture it or drown it out.

He couldn't help but chuckle, though you couldn't see what was so funny. “This is my Hell, ducky. You need only ask for it and it’s yours.” He tenderly swiped his thumb across your cheek as he spoke, a loving smile adorning his lips.

You could be free. Finally free. No more torment, no more pain. All you had to do was tell him where to find Vox. But there was something still nagging you in the back of your mind. A consequence that made you hesitate.

“You can’t kill him, Luci.” you blurted out, watching as his eyes threatened to glow with fire again. But they didn’t, he remained calm. Somehow. You’d have to commend him for that later. You weren’t quite sure why you were denying Lucifer his revenge on your behalf; whether it was to protect your skin in the future when he couldn’t be around to protect you or to give Charlie’s friend the satisfaction of killing Vox himself you couldn’t figure out. Before he could ask why or refuse you continued, “Just trust me…please? Leave him alive. Can you still break the contract like that?”

He huffed and seemed to consider your request for a moment, but ultimately he agreed. “Alright…won’t say I’m happy about it but for you…I suppose I’ll listen.”

You smiled for the first time that day and he couldn’t help but place a small soft kiss on your nose when you did. And with that, you told him the information he had been waiting for. “V Tower, tallest building around that isn’t the Angel Headquarters. He never leaves.”

He pulled his wings and arms back from you and you immediately missed the warmth, but you knew it was for good reason. The room felt overwhelmingly cold suddenly and a shiver went down your spine, you hadn’t realized the heat that had been pouring from Lucifer’s body being so close to you. He took a step back, making a motion to leave and make good on his word, but noticed your change in demeanor out of the corner of his eye and stopped for a moment.You had wrapped your arms around yourself and he took note of how cold and lonely you looked standing there by yourself in the now dark room. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t like the idea of leaving you here all alone, especially since you were in such a fragile state, but he needed to do this. The sooner the better, the sooner you could be free from that asshole’s torment. But he refused to leave you in such a condition like this before taking off to deal with him. He shrugged off his jacket and gently threw it around your shoulders, adjusting it and making sure it was fully covering you before he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. You instinctively grabbed ahold of the fabric and curled it around yourself, breathing in his apple pie scent that lingered on the collar. He then turned and flicked a finger out towards the ceiling, a ray of golden light beaming out of his fingertip. It exploded when it made impact with the roof, golden and white smoke swirling out in all directions. But once the smoke cleared the plain white paint had been replaced with a dazzling yellow night sky, bright stars swirling around in the atmosphere and shining a soft golden glow around the room.

A prideful grin was stuck on his face when he caught the way your eyes lit up at the sight. “There, so you don’t have to be in the dark. I won’t be gone long, alright? Then this mess’ll be over.”

And with that, he took off from the railing of the balcony with a strong beat of his wings. As you watched him soar away, his white wings a stark contrast against the red sky of the Pride ring, you swore you could see the outline of his horns peeking out above his head. You almost felt sorry for Vox for what was heading his way. Almost.

At some point, you had fallen asleep before Lucifer had returned, curled up on his side of the bed with his coat covering you. The night sky scene he had left you with was peaceful and its soft light had easily soothed you into a slumber after the emotionally draining day you had endured.

But you awoke with a scream ripping through your throat.

You shot up, Lucifer’s coat falling off of you in the process, as an all too familiar bright electric blue chain wrapped itself around your throat. “No…No! Lucifer!” you screamed, kicking and pulling backward as the chain threatened to yank you off of the bed. But your struggle was no match, you hit the floor with a thud, your head making contact with the tiles first and sending black spots into your vision. You blinked and propped yourself up on your hands, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes again. Through the spots and swaying in your vision you saw a bundle of white next to you on the floor; Lucifer’s coat had fallen onto the ground with you during the tumble. You reached out and grabbed onto it, pulling it closer to you and clutching the fabric in your fist til your knuckles turned white, holding onto the coat like a lifeline and praying it would turn into the real Lucifer soon. For now, you would have to make due.

It wasn’t long after you had grabbed the jacket that the chain around your neck refused to be forgotten about. It glowed, a sickening blue reflecting into your eyes and making your now-pounding head throb. But it was all a distraction; a split second later you were pulled across the floor. You tried to dig your heels into the ground, but the slippery tiles gave you no traction to stop yourself, so you did the next best thing and curled Lucifer’s jacket into your chest and braced for the inevitable impact with the wall behind you.

Your spine hit it with a reverberating crack. The force of the impact bounced your head backward, slamming it against the wall at the same time. You cried out, the room now spinning as the black spots in your vision became worse and your ears began to ring. But you looked down and sure enough Lucifer’s coat was still in your fist. You breathed in relief as you began to cry in earnest. You could do that here to cope with the pain, there were no watchful eyes to make the torment worse for showing signs of weakness like there were when Vox was around. So you cried. You cried for all the pain you were feeling now and for all the pain in the past you couldn’t have cried for. You wailed and sobbed and screamed, not caring who heard you, as the chain around your throat tightened unbearably.

But then there was suddenly a golden glow around your neck and you fell silent. It continued to get brighter, blindly brighter, and you instinctively had to close your eyes. But the light ceased abruptly at the same time as a loud sharp crack rang throughout the room. You held your breath as everything fell silent.

It took less than a minute later for Lucifer to show up in the exact same spot he had taken off from earlier on the balcony. You hadn’t moved an inch from your spot on the floor.

“Oh gosh, are you okay?! That was a stupid question- What happened while I was gone? I came back as fast as I could.” he rambled on as his wings disappeared and he rushed forward, sliding down onto his knees in front of you. He looked terrified, his hands froze outstretched between the two of you, simultaneously hesitant of what to do and worried about hurting you further.

“Is it…is it done? Is it over, Luci?” any strength you had left after the events of the day was now gone, washed away in your flood of tears.

Lucifer finally decided on a place for his hands and gently placed one over your still-enclosed fist balled in his jacket and the other he molded around the side of your face, cradling your head in his hand. You relished in his touch, leaning into his hand and sighing. “It’s over, ducky. You’re free from that monster. You’re safe.” He caressed his thumb over your cheek as he spoke, his touch no more than that of a feather. You couldn’t help but let a few more tears shed at the sound of the good news, but this time Lucifer was right there with you to help wipe them away.

#my writings #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel

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bump1nthen1ght · 1 year ago

Text

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 3 (Bukkake)

Kink: Bukkake

Pairing: Male!Orcs x Fem!Reader

Other kinks: Gang Bang, Spit Roasting

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1197 words

Kinktober Masterlist

If someone had told you this morning that your night shift at the tavern would end with you in the bedroom of a traveling adventurer, you wouldn’t have believed them.

If they had told you it would end with you in the bedroom of several adventurers, you would’ve thought they were insulting you.

If they had told you 're relatively boring tavern shift in your fairly boring town would end with you in a bed, surrounded on all sides by sexy orc adventurers, you would’ve slapped them atop the head and told them to stop reading so many dirty novels.

And yet-

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth on you, barkeep.” The orc, who you think is named Thrak, mutters.

“A good pussy too. Nice and tight.” The orc behind you, Parod, gives a hard slap to your ass. It makes your throat clench with a whine, something Thrak clearly appreciates. He runs his hand down the side of your cheek, giving you sweet caresses that don’t match his hurried thrusts, his balls smacking against your chin.

“Plus, look at that ass. I could watch that ass walking around this bar all day.”

The bard, Kog, slaps your ass too, his other hand still preoccupied with playing with your clit. Despite already spending himself in your ass his cock is rock hard. His musicians training must come in handy, as he easily navigates circling your clit and stroking himself at the same time.

“Maybe we should take you along with us, darling.” Sitting in the big chair nearby, fat cock in his scarred hands, remarks Hagu, the band's leader. You remember his name the best, despite a brain addled after orgasm and orgasm. He had made you scream it, over and over, when he bent you in half in a mating press to start this whole night off. “Become our personal cum dump.” Hagu stands up, erection bobbing against his stomach as he walks to you. He runs his knuckles along your sweaty face, not even perturbed by his bandmate’s cock thrusting in and out of your mouth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

When you first approached the band to ask for their drink order, you’d have never guessed Hagu had such a filthy mouth. He seemed the perfect, stone-serious leader for the raucous group, left in charge of the coin and easily silencing the boys if they got too rowdy. With his deep voice, that tantalizing half broken tusk and scar across his lips, he seemed the perfect brooding stranger. Even before they had propositioned you for a night in their room, you had considered hopping into Hagu’s bed.

Not that the rest of the boys weren’t gorgeous. Kog was the smallest, with a smile built for charming and long piano fingers. Thrak and Parod made a perfect duo, one barbarian and one rogue, bouncing off each other’s laughter and sly comments with ease. If they hadn’t seemed to love adventuring as much as they did, you’d think they’d thrive as a traveling troupe. Everyone would swoon.

Not to mention their giant cocks. That helps too.

“Still breathing, sweetheart?” Thrak half-jokes, patting your cheek when your eyes roll back. You give an unsteady thumbs up, moaning again as Parod pummels your g-spot. You’d think two cocks would have been enough to stretch you out, but Parod is girthy, and the pleasure burns.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hagu says, rubbing the back of your neck. “Do you love all these dicks ruining you? Don’t you just want to forget about all those silly responsibilities, and just live as our cum slut?” Your addled mind, half wondering if he really means the offer, nods enthusiastically. It gets you a congratulatory pat on the ass, though at this point you can’t tell from who. “That’s a good girl.”

Just those words are enough to send goosebumps down your arms, an urge to prove him right making you throw your hips back and to slather your tongue all around Thrak’s dick. Nails dig into your hips and shoulders, Parod’s grunts humps stumbling just a bit.

“F-fuck, I’m close.”

“Me too.” Thrak pants, squeezing your cheeks. “Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Her face, she wants it on her face.” Hagu commands, languidly stroking his cock. “She wants us all on her face, don’t you?”

Thraks pulls his cock out your mouth, drool dripping down your lips as Hagu grabs your chin again. The emptiness burns as Parod slips out of your pussy, resting his pulsing cock on your ass cheeks.

“Well?” Hagu squeezes your jaw, a slight tinge of pain as he yanks you to look up at him. His cock blocks your view, veins pulsing up his shaft. The other boys are uncharacterisitcally silent, all deferring to their leader's commands.

“Yes, c- cum on my face, please!” Your voice keens, whiny and desperate. Once again you think back to the beginning of your shift and how vastly different you thought this night would go.

“You heard her, boys. Pretty girls who ask nicely-” Hagu tugs on his shaft, moaning in between words, “-get what they want.”

It’s a cacophony of breathes, groans, and the slapping of skin as you're surrounded by 4 orcs, tips leaking with pre cum as they furiously jerk off. Your battered pussy, still a bit sore from being stretched open, grows slick nonetheless. The anticipation is killing you, licking your lips as your stomach grows taut.

Hagu, always the leader, starts everyone off.

“S-shit.” He growls, hands twitching as he aims his cock right at your open mouth. A hot stream of cum shoots across your lips, more and more spurts following to coat your tongue. The other boys are quick to follow, falling in and unloading all over your face. Thrak and Parod aim for your cheeks, giving the courtesy of avoiding your eyes. Kog is a little less controlled, whiny moans leading him to shoot his cum all over, some even reaching your forehead as his cock spasms.

All in all, it's just 15 seconds of pure bliss, hot cum warming your skin. The salt of sweat and semen has your mouth watering. You’re happy you had the wherewithal to tie your hair up when you guys started, or else it’d be coated by now.

Thrak and Parod collapse into the big comfy chair behind them, while Kog sinks into the bed beside you. Their green chests heave, skin dark with a furious blush as they all catch their breath. Even Hagu, ever composed, seems to take a moment. He wipes a palmful of sweat off his brow, before brushing a thumb across your face.

“Let's get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

Hagu easily sweeps you off the bed and into a bridal carry, leading you over to the small bathroom afforded to tavern rooms. The other boys, still in a post-nut haze, follow their leader anyway. Kog gathers up your strewn about clothes from the floor, making sure to keep them away from his sweaty skin.

What a way to end the night.

#my writing #kinktober 2023 #reader insert #monster romance #female reader insert #kinktober

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14thgalerie · 1 year ago

Text

the one

• pairing: theodore nott x riddle!reader

• now playing: hayloft by mother mother / you that i want by divine

• word count: 1.7k

• genre: angst, fluff, hint of smut

— short one that i kept thinking of.

Theo slumped in his chair, fatigue weighing heavily on him. The clock on the wall opposite him ticked relentlessly, unforgiving of his sleepless state. He had long abandoned any hope of finding any rest. He hadn’t been able to since that fateful night when everything felt right in his life.

His mind wouldn’t grant him solace. Each time his weary eyelids dared to meet from the pure exhaustion of the stress of OWLS, the ongoing war, his brain kept feeding him images of you. You, who kept haunting him from the very forefront of his mind.

The natural curve of your eyelashes. The way it fluttered against his cheeks as your lips made a blazing trail across his cheeks. Gentle whispers that drown him in sheer bliss still send shivers down his spine.

His tie lay abandoned, discarded beside him, next to the pile of papers swept aside in his frustration earlier. The long, emerald fabric had felt too suffocating amidst the overwhelming thoughts of you.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you would also be writhing in bed, unable to fall asleep as he does. Would your dreams torment you with the brief time his hands tangled onto your hair, wayward? Does your dormant body spin cruel variations of that time, telling him tantalising tales of what could’ve occurred if only your insufferable blonde companion hadn’t so abruptly interrupted?

He had never loved you.

Not in the way you wanted.

This desire to fill the emptiness in your heart, to have somebody give you the time and day has obscured that truth. A part of you knew, from the very beginning, but this desperation forced you to turn yourself blind.

Draco was there, a constant presence in your life, a perfect match to have by your side. Born only 24 hours apart, and 10 years of your childhood spent solely with him.

In truth, you both used the other, a fact that you ignored. He relied on you for protection and status as your partner, while you clung to him to feel the fleeting sense of warmth. But the perpetual storm of reality always wearing you both down and, you were rapidly losing the strength to keep yourself afloat.

Unspoken words hung heavy in the air between the both of you as the year progressed and the inevitable return of your father neared. At first, you had both kept your feelings at bay, not wanting this to jeopardise your friendship altogether. But as time went on, it became a routine. Venom spit from raised voices, threats of abandonment and indifference to each other, reconciliation accompanied by hollow promises and sex.

“Are you a bloody fool? She is my best friend and yet again, Draco ‘can’t-keep-his-boxers-on’ Malfoy decided that didn’t matter!” You screamed in frustration, but it didn’t seem to matter when he didn’t even so much as falter at the volume.

“We aren’t even together, so why should it?” He carelessly replies, an air of indifference surrounding him.

“We aren’t? You truly are an insufferable git, I spent two years committing myself to you, and you never thought to mention that little detail before?” You scoffed, incredulous at the idea. It was foolish and outrageous, and not at all like how the man you know would think. Despite your differences with one another, he would still treat you with at least the respect you give to a friend, but now…

“Oh please! Don’t act as if your mind has not been completely filled with that mindless buffoon.”

“For Merlin’s sake, do not dare turn this on me…” You challenged him.

“Or what? Threaten to have your father kill me? Well, surprise, darling, I’m no stranger to that already.” He humorlessly chuckles. “I’ve seen you. I’ve seen that god-awful lovesick look on your face at the mere sight of his back. I am not the complete bloody fool you think I am.”

It hurt, truly, despite the fact that this started as a hilarious excuse of a relationship. You cared for Draco and to see him constantly destroy everything and everyone in his path of destruction left you unable to conjure up any more excuses for him.

“I am done, Draco. We can stop whatever awful pretentious act we put ourselves to and live on our own as you seem to hardly care for even yourself anymore these days.” You laugh, defeat etched on your face.

He never gave you the love that you sought, the kind that Theo had laid bare in complete display for you in just under seven minutes in that tiny closet.

“You came back to me.” He whispers, close enough for his lips to touch the corner of your lips but there’s just a stutter of breath. It makes you want to instinctively kneel and look up to him and beg religiously for mercy, the way he speaks.

“I did.” You reply. Unmoving, but your patience wears thin.

“Look at you,” He mutters, his hand tugging at your head by your hair, exposing your neck to him, and your knees nearly buckle at his breath that burns against your jaw. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re almost like putty in my hands already.”

“Shut it, Nott.” You quickly remark a decision you notably regret when you are left standing in the middle of the room all by yourself. The cold air from the ajar window left your skin tingling with an uncomfortable feeling akin to when Draco touched you in the past weeks.

You scoff, the sound more as if you were nearly pleading. “What are you doing?”

“You know I hate it when you act like a brat.” He inclined his head, and the movement leaves chills running through your spine for the action is almost similar to someone sinister. But weirdly, it makes you want to tease him even more.

“Oh please, Theo. I’m not blind, as if you don’t dream of it.” You slowly approach him, your fingers make a motion of dragging along the ends of the poster beds. “The way I see your eyes tremble when I contradict every single thing you say. I know you are depraved when your thoughts are only of my mouth…”

You hear a sharp intake of breath when you come near. “The way you would just love it if you could shut me up by having my lips wrapped around you. I know you, Theo.”

His lips twitch into a mirthless smile, he reaches almost mindlessly for your collar. His thumb barely touches the skin of your neck. “Yes, you do.”

His eyes are intense as they dart to your mouth. Your tongue unconsciously makes a sweep against your dry lips.

“I suppose Draco will show me exactly how.”

Taking a page of this man’s book is terrifying but you are tired of this game of tug that you keep playing.

“That would be wise. ”

He’s still looking at your lips.

“I’ll go then.” You try again, unwilling to make the move.

“Go on, you won’t hear a sound of protest from me.” But you remain standing in front of him, the will to move weak against the desire to have him.

“Really?”

“No.”

Theo grabs the back of your head, tangled his fingers in your hair, and made a mess of your mouth. With his lips attached to yours, you grab him by his shirt and the both of you kiss as if you were third years again. Your teeth clashed into each other time and time again and you couldn’t find it in you to slow down.

The need to kiss him, to feel what you’ve been thinking of for several nights on end. You push back at him, desperate to feel the same hunger and need in him, as he kisses you deeper and more profound than you ever thought possible.

The soft, selfish hands that you wished so badly to wipe clean off the bodies of other women move up from the bottom of your back to move you impossibly closer until you are almost one. His voice is ragged when he pulls away, a thin thread of saliva still connecting you.

He says against your cheek, “I love you. I’d die for you. Nobody can ever give you what I could make the pain go away like I could, not even that dense fuck who has a deeper sense of self-preservation than his parents.”

You swallow, agonised by the sudden slow pace that he moves. Not an ounce of energy dared to waste to defend your ex. “I will love you anywhere.”

You shiver at the raw and pure intensity that laced the declaration. You almost want to ask, to hear how. But you don’t think your mind could properly comprehend the ability to piece together the right words to ask.

His heart is pounding from beneath your fingers as you feel the pulse on his neck, almost leaping it out as if all it wants is for you to finally claim it as yours. Encase it in a glass case and put it on display for all else to see.

“In a bookstore, by the water fountain, the sidewalk, in the flames of your home.” His hands come down to your hips, his fingers digging in so harshly that by morning sunlight, purple will be painted on your skin but it feels so heavenly that you don’t push them away.

“I love you, not for the protection you provide and for your substantial looks, but for all the small things you do that bear your soul to me.”

Your hands meet around the back of his neck as he carries you by your thighs towards his bed. Pulling at the fabric that keeps him away from you.

“I’ll love you even as you tell me you hate me. I love you enough that I will scour the face of this earth for a place where I can take you away from your nightmares.”

“I-“ He sighs into your lips, completely delighted by the intimacy that only his mind could conjure up in the lone nights. “I love you.”

You move for the buttons of his polo, while he moves to pull your shirt from you. A race that leaves you both fumbling when you feel his hand carving a path against your waist and up to your chest. You are left scalding, tiny bounces of light flickering in your eyes.

“I will be at your string’s end.”

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott smut

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dearly-somber · 1 year ago

Text

Yours | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!Jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. pining, fluff, unrequited love, f2l (friends-to-lovers)

-> w/c. 1867

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. This couple 💔💔

-> warnings. N/A

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Wed., Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:19

-> fin. Tues., Jul. 27th, 2022 @ 21:37

-> edited. Tues., Jan. 7th, 2023 @ 12:45

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

You watch in awe as Jungkook and his pack interact with one another in their wolf forms, itching to take pictures, but knowing they wouldn’t appreciate it.

It’s the first time you’ve seen Jungkook’s wolf, and you find yourself rather intimidated. He’s twice the size you’d expect him to be, and although he acts like an oversized puppy, his sharp teeth and large paws remind you of god true nature.

Jungkook whines and nips at his hyungs while the girls lounge off to the side, watching you take everything in with curious eyes. The youngest of the shifters gives who you think is Hoseok one last nibble to his ear before excitedly padding in your direction, tail wagging behind him.

Your heartbeat races as he stalks towards you, your mind emptying itself of all coherent thought. You open your mouth to ask something, but get interrupted by a wet, gross wolf-tongue being thrust down your throat.

It takes you a second to realize that Jungkook is in fact licking the inside of your mouth, and the moment you have the braincells to do something about it you yell in protest, roughly pushing him away by his chest. He takes a second to react to your pushing and jumps away the second he realizes he’s doing something wrong, a high-pitched whine leaving his throat. You wipe your mouth with your sleeve with a horrified frown, resisting the urge to gag. Jungkook whines loudly at your side, tail hovering between his legs as the other shifters look curiously in your direction, wondering what all the commotion is about.

Jungkook nuzzles his nose into your the crook of your elbow and then just below your rib cage, stepping onto your thigh in his attempt to get closer to your face so he can apologetically nuzzle your jaw. You push his face away in a panic, mortified that his tongue was in your mouth.

Jungkook whines louder, his ears pinned to the back of his head. You try not to scrape your tongue off with your nails, looking at Jungkook pace up and down with his worried eyes trained on you. You feel kind of bad, despite feeling like the victim in this situation, so you muster a small, slightly panicked smile. “Sorry, Kookie, it’s just that” —you exhale shakily— “you can’t just lick into my mouth, Koo. That’s just…”

He bows his head shamefully, his tail wrapping around his paws. You want to scream at him for looking so fucking sad, your stupid human brain only seeing an overgrown but cute dog who looks way too depressed for your heart to handle.

“I forgive you, but don’t do it again, okay?” You pat his head and twirl a finger around his soft ear, smiling when the end of his tail starts twitching. Jungkook barks happily at your forgiveness and stumbles to his feet so he can rest his head on your thigh, tail smacking your leg as it wags.

Your hands are on him immediately, petting him all over and carding through his fur. Jungkook can’t help but vibrate with pleasure, trying very hard to get it across to his wolf that crushing you under his weight is going to get the complete opposite reaction he wants. Your gentle touches knock the breath out of him. Make him submissive and pliant—some might even say pathetic.

He cringes at a memory from two weeks ago.

You were lying next to him, reading a book while he boredly played games on his phone. Turning to you, he positioned his head in your lap.

“I’m bored.”

“And I’m reading.”

He scoffed, pinching your leg. You yelped in surprise and Jungkook smirked smugly.

You resisted smacking him with the book. “Go to bed.”

“But it’s almost dinner,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes, muttering something that sounded oddly like ‘dumb puppy’.

“I’ll wake you when it’s ready. Sleep.”

Jungkook grumbled something under his breath but nevertheless turned onto his stomach, getting comfortable with his head in your lap, pouting. How could you—

His eyes widened a fragment as his entire body relaxed the moment your fingers started gently carding through his hair. He felt his wolf slowly coming to the forefront of his mind, practically purring with contentment as he nuzzled into your thigh, huffing out a wolfish breath.

You massaged his scalp and he let out a quiet moan of appreciation, pressing his face into your thigh to hide his heating cheeks. You laughed, your heart thundering against your rib cage. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and pressed his nose into your hipbone while holding himself to you possessively, little noises of pleasure falling from his lips while you played with his hair.

Jungkook shudders internally at the embarrassing recollection, his nose pressed into your hipbone like it was back then. That memory—though cringe-worthy—is a fond one.

He whines appreciatively when you scratch behind his ears, pressing his nose further into your hip. You chuckle lowly in response, your mouth moving with no sound coming out.

You’re in awe at just how thick his fur is. You could ball up a fistful of hair and still find more fur to grasp on to. You suppose it’s necessary to survive the winters, even though they probably spend most of their time indoors anyway… “You’re so cute!” you squeal softly, cupping Jungkook’s face and bringing your face close to his so you can stare into those large, expressive eyes of his.

He looks surprised at the sudden proximity but doesn’t try to pull away even after he goes cross eyed, his tail wagging excitedly behind him. You half forget that this is in fact your best friend, seeing him as just any other dog.

A very large, very intimidating dog.

“You’re just an overgrown puppy who enjoys some good ol’ pets, aren’t you? Just a big baby boy?” You giggle when he whines and aggressively stomped his feet, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you. Your thumbs trace over his eyes affectionately, smiling brightly at his obvious excitement.

You continue cooing at him unintelligibly, his inner pup yowling and whimpering desperately at the note of affection in your voice.

“Someone’s whipped,” Jimin snorts through their mind link, shaking his head.

“I’m not whipped—“ Jungkook tries to defend himself, though his aggressively wagging tail and barely contained whimpers give him away immediately.

“You’re acting like an overgrown puppy,” Rosé deadpans, her head raised so Lisa can groom the underside of her neck.

“No, I’m not,” he tries to defend himself, doing his best not to show his growing annoyance at his pack’s testing while you’re so close to his face, fighting with his wolf to not lick your face, no matter how much they both want to.

Taehyung snorts from where he’s laying half on top of Jimin, the two looking pleased that they’re getting a rise out of him. “Coochie coochie coo! Come here, Jungoo-baby, let your hyungs groom your fur!”

“Stop,” Jungkook warns them, trying to focus on your bright smile.

“Koo’s about to roll over and beg her to—“

You squeal in surprise and fright when Jungkook turns his head to the side to snarl at his pack-mates, your heart picking up speed and eyes widening. Your fight or flight kicks in, but Jungkook is laying half on top of you, and you’re afraid that if you move more he’ll get snappy.

Jungkook turns back to you with a small huff, licking your hand as an apology for scaring you, before ducking his head to nudge your pelvis insistently. You hesitantly pet him again, wary of another outburst. Jungkook huffs angrily, pinning his ears against his head. You don’t hold his face again, much to his chagrin.

This wouldn’t have happened if his idiot hyungs kept their mouths shut. He, albeit dejectedly, settles for nuzzling his nose into your stomach.

He’ll get face pets from you another time.

As the sun sets, Jungkook’s pack-mates head inside one by one, shifting where you can’t see. Jungkook’s tail lays lethargic and limp by his side, your long, rhythmic strokes over his head and down his spine making him drowsy.

“Y/N! Jungkook! Come inside! It’s getting late and we wanna order food,” Namjoon calls from the behind sliding door that leads to the patio.

“Coming!” you call back, gently shoving Jungkook off you despite his protests. You picture him whining that, “he doesn’t wanna go inside” and to, “keep petting him” in that annoyingly adorable aegyo voice he uses sometimes, but you manage to push the thought away and stand, stretching your legs.

“Let’s get some food, hm?” You roll your finger around his ear as he follows you on your heel, huffing and puffing annoyedly. It feels a bit like having those guard dogs you’ve seen on TV.

Jungkook shifts back in the comfort of his bedroom, running downstairs to join you in the living room where everyone’s busy watching a crime documentary and eating pizza. Strangely enough, you’re no where to be seen, the single seater that might as well have your name on it left unoccupied. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s in the kitchen grabbing something to drink,” Jennie supplies distractedly, stuffing her face with a large cheese pizza. Jungkook nods, stepping over everyone sitting on the floor to make himself comfortable in your chair.

When you come back, you see your spot has been taken and slump your shoulders. He grins at you cheekily, and you roll your eyes. You make a move to pass him so you can sit next to Lisa, but Jungkook intervenes quickly by shooting his legs out, causing you to screen to a halt to stop you from tripping over his stupidly long legs.

You glare at him pointedly, aggressively smacking his upper leg to get him to drop it to the floor. He pouts and makes grabby hands at you to come and sit with him in the single chair instead of with his pack mates, tilting his head cutely.

You sigh and shake your head, leaning over the coffee table to grab a slice of pepperoni pizza before turning to one very delighted Jeon Jungkook. He giggles softly as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap, his legs spread so that your ass is cushioned in his thighs. He rests his chin on your shoulder and holds you close, watching the TV with rapt attention. You smile at the doe-eyed look of concentration he has, chewing on the bite you just took while holding the slice over your shoulder for him to take.

He hums appreciatively when he digs his teeth into it, thanking you through a mouthful of pizza. “Don’t speak to me with your mouth full,” you scold with a playful flick to his cheek, shaking your head when he grins stupidly at you in response.

Jungkook trains his eyes on the side of your face as you lean into him, your eyes twinkling with pictures from the screen.

He has only one thought as he tightens his grip around your waist:

Though you might not be his just yet…

…he’s most definitely yours.

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anna-hawk · 1 year ago

Text

The Eggnog Effect

Nicomund the Red | Santa Claus x F!Reader

Summary: You passed out on your friend's couch and wake up to find Santa Claus leaving a gift for your godchild.

WC: 6.2k // Explicit 🔞

Warnings: Christmas smut, bad jokes and cheesy wordplays

For @roguesandsaviors who's love for David Harbour triggered me into trying my hand at writing smut for someone else than Jon 😁

Also on AO3

You frowned as you slowly woke up, wondering about the small tinkling sound that got you out of your slumber in the first place. Cracking one eye open, you tried to make out your immediate surroundings, but your face was smushed into a pillow. A throw pillow, to be more precise.

Ever since the birth of your godchild, your best friend and husband had started asking you to spend Christmas Eve with them. How could you say no to witnessing the kid’s eyes growing big with wonder after discovering the presents lying underneath the Christmas tree?

Usually, though, you spent the night in the guest bedroom and not on the living room couch. You berated yourself for the sore neck you were likely getting from the sleeping position and grumbling internally about the long hours spent at work today that resulted in your exhaustion when you heard that noise again.

Blinking and opening both eyes now, you glimpsed some movement to the side of the couch, where you knew the Christmas tree to be. As you twisted to your back, your eyes caught onto something red and large and…

“Oh God, I really need to leave off the eggnog next time… I’m actually seeing Santa now,” you groaned and quickly rubbed over your tired eyes.

Except that there was that tinkling again, more agitated, which made you open your eyes once more only to be met by the sight of a large man standing stock still just a few feet away from you. His wide eyes stared at you with a mix of panic and annoyance.

“Oh shit,” you breathed as realization sank in, and you understood that your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you but that there was a stranger in the house and… You opened your mouth to scream, but the man was on you in a fraction of a second. A large palm covered the entire lower half of your face and stopped you from uttering any sound, while the other hand held the man up on the armrest under your head.

“Shhh,” he hissed, his eyes lifting to the entrance of the living room to check if anyone was coming, before they bore into yours.

Oddly enough, and maybe it was still the eggnog talking, you didn’t try to fight, despite the way his large frame loomed over you. You didn’t move at all, actually, as you met his gaze. The only thought going through your mind was, oh, he’s got blue eyes. You stayed in the same position for several more seconds, his eyes never leaving yours as he assessed the situation. Realizing that you weren’t going to out him, the man slowly removed his hand from you and stood. You stayed where you were, observing him curiously; the white blond curly beard and hair under an askew red and white cap, the deep red leather coat lined with white fur spanning over a wide chest and shoulders, a pair of shiny, black boots. Everything about him screamed Santa Claus, but he was also nothing like the various men playing Santa in malls and other places. Those other Santas had also never elicited such a strong response from your body, either.

“Who are you?” you breathed, mindful to keep your voice down, when really, the question should have been what are you doing here? Or, what do you want?

“Who do you think I am?” he grumbled, while you watched him glare at a small bag and rummage around in it with a frustrated expression.

Your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets when the man thrust his whole arm into the bag, and it just vanished inside, which should have been impossible given how tiny the bag was compared to his arm.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“I didn’t know that Santa swears,” you snorted at the absolutely crazy sight in front of you.

“He does when the presents aren’t where they’re fucking meant to be,” he muttered, before his face turned into a satisfied grin. “Aha.” His arm slowly came back out, followed by a large, neatly wrapped present.

You blinked in rapid succession as you took in the size of the present and the size of the bag again. Yup, something was definitely up. A bicycle, for a five-year-old or not, would never fit in that bag if something… You snorted to yourself as the word magical ran through your mind. Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. But then the man pulled out an actual scroll of parchment, which started to glow as he pulled it apart. Sitting up, you stared at the man as he scanned the contents of the scroll with a thoughtful look.

“What’s that? Your naughty and nice list?” you sniggered, while pulling your legs under you on the couch and letting your eyes drift over him appreciatively.

“Mmhm,” he replied absently, seemingly looking for something in particular.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his easy admittance, before you began laughing under your breath.

“Tell me, Santa. Am I on your naughty list?” You leaned your head against your palm and rested your elbow on the armrest, smirking as you drawled the word naughty.

“Nope,” he answered instantly, while your flirty expression went completely unseen since he still didn’t look at you.

You frowned curiously at his reply and tilted your head to one side before slowly getting up and approaching him. This, at least, seemed to catch his attention because his eyes snapped to you as soon as you moved. He watched you with a slight frown. Curious.

“You sure?” you grinned.

This was all absolutely crazy. There was a fucking stranger in your friends’ house, pretending to be Santa and looking damn fine in that role, yet here you were, flirting outrageously with him anyway, when flirting usually felt awkward to you. The eggnog definitely was at play here.

He chuckled and said your name. Your full name, which had you stopping dead in your tracks as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“You’ve never been on the naughty list once,” he finished with a shrug.

“How… Who…”

How could he know your name? If he were a burglar, he’d probably only know your friends’ names since they were on the mailbox. He could have looked them up and seen your name popup in your best friend’s feeds on social media, but to what end? He’d just left a goddamn bike for your godchild instead of taking something. And that bag? That wasn’t a trick.

The man sighed deeply. “Adults,” he muttered, before thinking for a second. “Do you remember what you wished for on Christmas when you were eight?”

Taken aback by the question, you frowned and thought for a second before memories hit you, and you nodded as you opened your mouth to reply. Except that he said the same thing as you did at the exact same time as you. You took in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he know that? It was far too specific to be a random guess. Only if…

“So what are you going to do when you leave? Pull a Men In Black and wipe my memory or something?” You crossed your arms with a chuckle as your brain accepted the crazy truth.

He snorted and shrugged. “Trust me, the very few people who have actually seen me have never talked about me. And if they did,” he trailed off with another meaningful shrug that clearly said, who’s gonna believe them?

You nodded faintly at his logic. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m curious, though… What’s your actual name? Santa? Kris? Nick?” You headed to where your godchild had left the cookies and milk and picked up the plate with the cookies. You chose one for yourself and offered one to… Santa.

He took a cookie but didn’t look away from you, his head shaking in amusement a second later.

“Really? Of all the things you could ask, that’s what you wanna know?”

You shrugged and bit off a piece of cookie, the man doing the same before he glanced down at it with an appreciative sound and nod, then looked into your expectant face again.

“You can call me whatever you want. The list is pretty long.”

“But none of them are correct,” you surmised, watching him reach for the milk glass and taking a large gulp. “How about… Daddy Christmas?”

You had to hold back your loud laugh as he sprayed his mouthful all over his front at your words. He tried to cough as silently as he could and shot you a death glare as you stood there with a satisfied grin on your face.

“Am I on the naughty list yet?”

His nostrils flared as he wiped crumbs and milk off his beard and coat before he stalked over towards you until he was in your face.

“You should be more careful with what you wish for, girl,” he growled, yet instead of feeling threatened, you felt more than turned on.

“Oh? What are you gonna do? Give me your big lump of coal?” you breathed, loving how big and tall he was.

Santa blinked at you once, twice, then burst into laughter, which had you smiling broadly.

“Gotta admit, this was a new one.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but something chimed close by, which had him checking his watch. “Fuck!”

Picking up two other cookies, he headed towards the fireplace and lifted a finger to his nose, sparks firing as he did so, but then he looked back at you.

“Nicomund,” he said softly, which had your eyes widen at the revelation of his name.

He smiled and pressed his gloved finger against his nose.

“Merry Christmas.”

He was gone in a swish of golden sparks a second later.

One year later

Dressed in a festive pair of pajamas, you yawed widely as you looked at the clock sitting in the midst of Christmas decorations on the mantelpiece. You stretched your arms over your head and shook your head to try fending the sleepiness off.

You were back at your friends’ house and sitting on the same couch as last year. Last year, when you’d met the actual Santa Claus. You’d spent weeks doing research on the origins of Christmas, yet none of the results had been conclusive in any form. You’d guessed that people truly didn’t usually see him like he’d told you. After a while, you almost wanted to believe that the whole thing had only been a dream, coming from too much eggnog and sleep-deprivation. Except that he’d given you his name. Nicomund. You couldn’t have dreamed that up. The name had actually given you some vague results as you’d given it in. Nicomund the Red, a former viking warrior. Who was supposed to have lived over a thousand years ago. Considering what you’d witnessed, you didn’t even think it that farfetched that they could be one and the same person. The way he’d talked had clearly hinted at the fact that he’d been doing this for a very long time. He knew who you were. Even as a child. Yet, he didn’t look older than his late forties or early fifties.

As much as you enjoyed loosing yourself in fantasies in books and so on, you considered yourself as a pragmatic person in real life. You liked facts and magic, while a fun concept, had never seemed like something real. And yet… After what you’d seen…

That’s why you wanted to stay awake on Christmas Eve. Prove that you hadn’t actually dreamed everything up. And you might have also wanted to see him again, just because. It was ridiculous. You hadn’t been able to go on a date the whole past year, Nicomund popping up in your head at random times. The way you’d felt attracted to him had left you reeling. He’d been in full Santa gear, yet all you’d been able to see were his blue eyes, his large frame and drawling deep voice, the combination lighting your entire body up.

Your eyes drifted to the clock again, watching the time slowly approach one in the morning. Resting your head against the couch, you closed your eyes and sighed. A very comfortable bed was waiting for you just down the hall, and your body wanted nothing more than to sink into it and sleep after the long day you’d had again. But what if you missed him? Your fingers curled around a folded up piece of paper resting on your lap. Just in case, you’d written him a note, requesting him to wake you up if you were to fall asleep. With your eyes still closed, you smirked to yourself at the few lines you’d written. Maybe you could tell him yourself later. You would open your eyes in a second. You were just resting them a bit.

Weren’t you supposed to be asleep for Santa to show up?

The next thing you heard was a loud and excited scream coming from close by, having you jerk awake in your bed… Bed? Sitting up quickly, you realized that you were lying in the guest bedroom. When had you moved there? The last thing you remembered was that you’d been sitting on the couch and fiddling with the note. The thought of the note had you looking all around yourself and the floor, yet there was nothing there. Quickly getting up and slipping into a pair of warm slippers, you almost ran to the living room to look for the note. The only thing you found was your godchild gushing about the presents sitting under the tree, your friends standing around him with broad smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” they called at nearly the same time as they saw you walk in.

Tearing your eyes away from the couch and the floor, you schooled your features into a bright smile and replied in kind, hugging the couple and then kneeling to do the same to their kid. You helped rip into the wrappings and forced yourself to focus on what was going on around you.

As the day went on, you never found the note, but you were still absolutely certain that Nicomund had been the one to get you into bed. You might have been exhausted, but you would have remembered it if you’d gotten up to go to bed on your own. Disappointment shot through you at the realization that you wouldn’t get the chance to see him again until the next year. If at all.

Later that same day, you had dinner with your family, which served to take your mind off things for several hours. It wasn’t until later that night and once you’d returned to your place well after midnight and gotten ready for bed, that you sighed dejectedly again. In your pajamas and leaning against the counter of the open kitchen that looked into the living room, you slowly sipped water from a glass when your fireplace made a sputtering noise. Frowning, you put the glass down behind you and walked into the living room, only to yelp in surprise when golden sparks appeared and formed into the shape of a man a few feet away from you.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, eyes wide and heart racing.

Nicomund met your gaze and smirked at your gobsmacked expression.

“Merry Christmas,” he rumbled.

Your mouth moved silently as your eyes slowly took in his appearance. Gone were the red coat and hat, instead he was wearing a loose, off-white colored shirt and had his hair pulled up in a messy bun, showing off more of his handsome face. The V in the shirt’s neckline revealed the beginning of circular tattoos with what appeared to be runes. All the air rushed out of your lungs at the whole sight. He definitely wasn’t Santa right now, meaning that it really wasn’t the outfit that did it for you, since you were getting even more turned on than the previous year.

“What are you doing here?” you croaked, your mind having a hard time realizing that he was standing in your living room. “Christmas is over.”

“It is, yeah… I thought you wanted to see me.” He put his bare hands into the pockets of his red pants and tilted his head at you.

Your eyebrows lifted at that. “Why didn’t you wake me up then?” you muttered, pursing your lips slightly.

“Not enough time,” he answered easily, eyeing you slowly.

“For what?” you breathed, swallowing at the way he was staring at you. The way he'd said it hinted at more than just him running behind schedule.

“I got your note,” he said instead, and pulled the neatly folded paper out of one of his pockets, scanning it lazily after unfolding it. “You got real creative.” He lifted his gaze to yours briefly, the eye contact and implications of his words having heat rushing to your face.

Biting over your bottom lip and taking strength in the knowledge that he came to find you once he’d been done with delivering presents, you grinned at him cheekily.

“You said that I was never on your naughty list, so I figured that I could get a reward for having been such a good girl over the years.”

You took a step closer to him, seeing him watching you attentively, expression unreadable.

“And that’s what you had in mind?” His eyes went back to your note. “Dear Santa, I’ve been particularly good this year. Please let me play with your Christmas ornaments and suck on your candy cane. And while Santa Claus is coming to town, I’ll be sure to show how good I can go to town on Santa Claus. And please don’t forget to stuff my Christmas stockings with your big present. Hoe, hoe, hoe, Merry Christmas.”

Hearing him read the note out loud in that husky drawl had all the heat from your face rushing down your body. You couldn’t even feel the slightest bit of embarrassment at your silly wordplay, especially when you could see the corner of his mouth pulling up as he read, while his voice deepened by the end. His eyes lifted to yours once he was done, before he let them travel over your body. Slowly, taking all of you in, his blue eyes dark in the half light cast by the living room lamp. Your lips parted as soft pants left your mouth, your heart rate picking up at his intense perusal.

“May I have my Christmas present now?” you breathed after taking a step closer and leaving you only a few inches away from him.

He huffed out an amused laugh, but you didn’t miss the way he lightly leaned towards you, his large chest moving up and down faster.

“Show me how good you can be,” he rumbled, as he let go of the note, which fluttered to the floor.

As you reached for his face with one of your hands, you caught his surprised expression when your fingers gently ran along his bearded jaw and towards the back of his head to pull him towards your mouth. Considering the low sound he made as your lips met, he had nothing against kissing, he seemed more surprised by your gentle touch, that you wanted more than just something frenzied and fast. But you did want. Corny and over the top sexual Christmas wordplay aside, you really wanted the man. All of him.

Slipping your tongue along his while slightly pulling at his hair, Nicomund growled and pushed into you, his hands moving into action as they travelled around your waist and down to your ass. His beard tickled deliciously around your mouth as he kissed you back fiercely. The first physical proof of his arousal pressed against you, making your breath catch at the size you could feel. Taking a step back away from him, you quickly found his eyes as you sunk to your knees before him. Nicomund’s breath came in short pants as his dark eyes watched you lifting your hands to the fastenings of his red pants. You took your time pulling the golden buttons from their respective holes, while you could see his erection straining the fabric just below. After you were done, you tugged the pants and underwear down enough to reveal his length. Unable to keep your eyes away, you finally looked at his gorgeous cock, proudly standing away from his body, the head red and shiny with pre-come.

“As red as Rudolf’s nose,” you muttered lightly, almost to yourself, except that Nicomund heard every word.

“Fuck, you’re terrible. Don’t make me change my mind,” he grumbled, sounding between amused and exasperated.

Slipping out of the top half of your pajamas to reveal your breasts, you glanced up at him with a smirk.

“You really wanna stop, Daddy Christmas?” you teased, right before leaning forward to lick up a long stripe from the base to the top of his cock.

His body went rigid at the touch, while he groaned. Suddenly, one of his hands was in your hair, the fingers sliding against your scalp and moving your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. A long moan slipped free from you at the treatment, which had Nicomund grinning in satisfaction.

“You’re not really being a good girl right now, y’know. Bein’ a lil tease and all. Thought you wanted to show me how good you can be.” His voice was low and washed over you in a delicious wave, stoking your lust further.

Nodding instead of replying verbally, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue peek out in invitation. Nicomund hummed, pleased, and guided you towards his cock.

“There we go,” he rasped, as he slowly slid over your tongue, stretching your lips with his girth.

Once he was as far as you could manage without gagging, he stopped moving. His hand remained in your hair, but he neither pushed nor pulled, waiting for you to decide what to do next. You kept him like this for as long as was comfortable before you slowly drew back and gently suckled over the head, while you wrapped your fingers around him. Nicomund groaned as you angled his cock up for you to tongue and suck under the head, teasing the sensitive nerves. You took your time sucking all over him, savoring the sounds you could get out of him, your body heating whenever he cursed under his breath when you did something he particularly enjoyed.

Listening to his breaths picking up speed and feeling his hips jerking as he got closer to release, you were surprised when he gently removed you off him with the same hand as before. Lifting your head since you had expected – wanted – him to come in your mouth, you gazed at him in confusion. He reached for one of your arms and pulled you to your feet before he was kissing you hungrily. Which you didn’t mind in the slightest, as you folded your arms around his chest to answer in kind, your nipples hardening as they rubbed against the material of his shirt.

“Wanna be inside you,” he admitted roughly, talking against your mouth.

You keened in the back of your throat and nodded fervently. How could you not want that?

“Yes,” you hissed, kissing him deeply.

“Bed?” he rasped, and it took your brain a second to get your body to move.

“Yeah, okay.” You took his hand and pulled him out of the living room and towards your bedroom.

Inside the room, Nicomund drew you back to him for a quick kiss before he bent over to pull down your pajama pants and get them off you. You clutched at his shoulders as he divested you of the clothes.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he ordered, having your move instantly.

You observed him through hooded eyes and pressed your legs together at the tingle of anticipation running through your core as you watched him undress. You would have loved to do it for him, but this gave you the opportunity to let your eyes feast on him as he revealed his tattooed body, the shirt falling to the floor. He was large and strong, but with a softness around his belly that had your fingers prickling with the desire to touch. His hair was a mess of curls, in and out of the hairband holding it back. You expected him to remove the rest of his clothes and stared into his face questioningly when he didn’t, only to realize that he was already watching you. Stepping towards you and making you spread your legs for him to stand between them, Nicomund towered over you as he gazed down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Thought you might want me to keep them on. So you don’t forget who exactly is fucking you.”

Your whole body heated with lust and embarrassment alike. You wanted to open your mouth to explain that you didn’t have a Santa kink, that you’d never thought of Santa in that way, but after the jokes you’d made, you couldn’t fault him for teasing you about it. Only, you didn’t care who he was. You’d have wanted him the same way had he been the Sandman, or just a normal man as well. And to be honest, having him almost fully clothed while you were naked was also turning you on.

“Is it time for your big present, then?” You bit over your bottom lip as you stared up at him with a hopeful expression.

Chuckling, Nicomund leaned down to your eye level.

“Not yet,” he hedged, and knelt between your legs. “First I gotta get a taste of your…” He thought for a second. “Cookie.”

Your eyes widened at the unexpected wordplay and what it meant. He didn’t give you the time to further react as he grabbed your hips to pull them halfway over the edge of the bed and sink between your legs. You barely had the time to catch yourself with your hands behind you on the bed at the first swipe of his tongue over your wet folds. Crying out at the hotness of his tongue combined with the soft scratching of his beard on your sensitive skin, you fought to keep your eyes open to watch him. Heat ran through you at the way he so clearly took pleasure in eating you out. He took his time doing it too, at first only giving you broad licks that didn’t hold that much strength and mostly served to wind you slowly up as his tongue became more precise. Your eyes fluttered, and you panted once he began using the tip of his tongue to run maddening circles around your exposed clit. As you were getting louder and louder the stronger the pressure of his tongue became, Nicomund suddenly stopped and, instead, focused his attention on your inner thighs, kissing and teasing his beard across your skin. Your legs quivered from the change of pace, and you wanted nothing more than to bring his head back to where it had been. He seemed content to keep torturing you, however, and you knew in that moment that you would be dealing with beard burn the next day.

“Nicomund… please?” you breathed on a whimper, gazing down at him and catching his eye as he looked up at you without stopping his ministrations.

Your expression seemed to trigger something in him because his mouth and tongue were back on your clit in the next second. You had to throw your head back at the explosive pleasure shooting through you as his lips surrounded that little bundle of nerves, and he sucked on it enthusiastically. You screamed in bliss and tangled your fingers in his hair, silently begging him to stay right there. From the way he growled, he had no intention of going anywhere anyway. He pressed his thumbs into your thighs, pushing your legs further open and pulling your folds apart as his mouth ripped more and more delirious sounds from you. As two of his fingers slowly sank into you and curled up to start fucking you, your whole body wrapped over his head, your orgasm hitting you with such intensity that your legs locked against Nicomund’s shoulders.

While you were slowly coming back to yourself, Nicomund kissed his way up your mound, hip and belly, his soft touches making your body shake with more than just the aftershocks, your entire body feeling sensitized. When he reached your stomach, you cupped his head with your hands and leaned down to kiss him deeply. His beard was damp, while his lips still tasted like you, having a new shiver of desire going through you. Nicomund grunted into your mouth as he knelt up, curling one arm around your waist while the other held him up behind your back. Without ever breaking the kiss, he got to his feet and leaned over you until you were almost lying on the bed. You moved up the bed with his help, just enough for him to get his knees on the mattress and pull your legs over his thighs properly. Meanwhile, your hands took their time exploring his body, running all over his back and sides, reveling in his size and comforting weight on top of you. Your fingers encountered a few scares as they went, bringing the reminder of your research back to mind. Only fights and battles could explain the size and placements of some of them. And then there were the tattoos. Santa Claus was an ancient Viking warrior. The concept was absolutely wild, but you put the wayward thought to the side in favor of focusing on the whole man on top of you.

Nicomund lifted his head a few inches and held himself over you to look into your face. He was breathing hard, sweat starting to form at his temples, his eyes traveling between your lips and eyes. You looked at him dazedly and smiled before lifting your head, keeping your eyes open, to press your mouth against his. You repeated the action a few more times, seeing his chest rise and fall faster each time.

“Are you going to make me beg again?” you whispered, your lips grazing his.

He chuckled and stroked a thick thumb over your jaw.

“Please, Santa, pour your milk all over my-”

His mouth crashed into yours, effectively shutting you up, but unable to stop you from giggling.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled, shifting on top of you.

“But cookies always need – oh fuck!”

This time, his method was more convincing, as he used your momentarily distraction while you teased him to line up with your entrance and push inside you in one long and powerful slide.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your head back as he had you crying out with each snap of his hips, his length making you feel as full as you’d wished for. Nicomund mouthed around your jawline, grunting into your skin as he thrust into you repeatedly. Leaning your head forward again, you drew his mouth in for an open-mouthed kiss, sucking and biting his bottom lip, trying to give back as much as you could in your position. It seemed to be enough for him, since he slammed into you harder, groaning as you moaned even louder while your inner walls pulsed around him.

“Feel so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and high-pitched, your legs curling over his thighs as extreme pleasure unfurled inside you again.

“Fuck,” he gritted out roughly, staring down at you with burning eyes. “You gonna come for me again?”

You nodded. “Please? Nicomund… Please!”

You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of this man on top of you, making you feel needy like never before. With his large frame, glistening with sweat and strong arms holding him up at your sides as his hips drove you higher and higher, piercing blue eyes roving over your face.

“Yeah, come on, go ahead. Been such a good girl for me. Such a good-”

His words cut off as you exploded around him at the praise, a long wail of ecstasy coming through your mouth, before you pulled his mouth back onto yours for a desperate kiss. After several more thrusts, Nicomund groaned as one of his hands shifted to your hair and formed a fist in it. He tugged at it to expose your jaw to breathe against it as he fucked in and out of you at a fast pace. Still overwhelmed by your second orgasm, you let him move you the way he needed and only linked your arms tightly around his shoulders, small, pleasured whimpers leaving you. When he came, his whole body shuddered over yours, his hips jerking repeatedly as he emptied himself inside you with a long groan.

Neither of you moved as you simply rested for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow while you gently combed your fingers through his hair.

“Mmh… this was definitely worth waiting a whole year for,” you mumbled sleepily, the long day catching up to you at last.

Nicomund chuckled warmly and raised his head from where it had been resting against your shoulder. You grinned up at him and stroked your fingers along his beard before letting them trail down his shoulders, your eyes following their path, as he moved further up.

“Nicomund the Red,” you muttered quietly, swirling an index over a circular tattoo on his chest. They were all gorgeous and reached down to both of his arms.

You felt him go still under your hands and met his stunned gaze. You smiled softly, keeping up your exploration.

“I like research,” you explained with a small shrug. “Didn’t find much, really, but I couldn’t…” You looked away from his face.

“Couldn’t what?” he asked in a quiet rumble.

“You read the note, Nicomund… I didn’t start thinking about writing it only yesterday,” you hedged.

This was as much as you wanted to reveal about how often you’d thought about him this past year. Sure, you’d been attracted to him from the get go and had fun with all the wordplay, but you’d also been genuinely intrigued by him.

Nicomund didn’t say anything for a beat, but then shifted your bodies until he was slipping out of you and rolling you to your side to face him.

He cleared his throat. “Well… I was kinda wondering if you’d be at your friends’ again.”

You uttered a small, happy laugh at his admittance and closed your eyes. The feeling only lasted a moment as you realized that he wouldn’t be staying, however. Nicomund was still Santa Claus, for crying out loud. Your smile turned sad as you fully realized that this couldn’t go anywhere. Opening your eyes and staring at his chest, you kept tracing the tattoos quietly, thinking.

“Will you come back next year?” you finally brought yourself to ask, your eyes still downcast.

A warm palm stroked over your jaw and tilted your head up to meet warm blue eyes.

“Only if you stay off the naughty list,” he said, going for humor to lift the suddenly heavier mood, but his smile was slightly off.

You couldn’t help but snort anyway and gave him a small smile, the implications of his comment clear. You’d always been on the nice list, so surely…

“No promises,” you whispered, having him huffing out a small laugh this time, while his fingers ran along the back of your neck in a wonderfully soothing way.

Your eyes slowly fell close, your fingers stopping their path on his skin as his touch lulled you to sleep. You were completely unable to fight it and soon, the last thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead.

With no surprise, you were alone the next morning.

One week later.

Two hours past the new year, after your friends had left, and you’d put the night’s dinner leftovers in the fridge, you sank onto the couch with a glass of eggnog. You stared at the liquid with bleary eyes, smiling to yourself as you thought of Nicomund. It was a bittersweet thought, but you tried to keep any sadness away whenever you thought of him. Still slightly tipsy, you berated yourself for missing the opportunity to make a bad joke with eggnog. Maybe you should write it in next Christmas’ note. You could already see him rolling his eyes at you and grinned.

Taking a sip and leaning your head back over the couch, you let your mind drift to the moment when you’d been lying face to face, his hands in your hair.

A whoosh of air suddenly went through the living room, having you gasp and sit upright again. Your mouth fell open at the now familiar golden sparks coming through the fireplace. A few seconds later, you were looking into Nicomund’s face.

“Happy new year?” he rumbled tentatively.

Standing and looking at your glass, you put it down on the coffee table and tilted your head at him.

“I should really, really leave off the eggnog,” you said as you approached him. “I’m starting to see Santa at New Year.”

“Maybe you’ll see me at Easter too,” he smirked, leaning towards you as you cupped his face to kiss him.

#Nicomund x reader #violent night #santa x reader #reader insert #violent night fanfiction #david harbour #christmas smut #yes I'm aware it's August 🤣

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impishjesters · 1 year ago

Text

Jax with a s/o scared of nothing but that spider is MASSIVE

warning(s): big spider, one-sided crush, empty threats/manipulative behaviour, light Ragatha bashing, possessive Jax, anger/temper issues note(s): The one-sided crush is Ragatha on the reader, the Ragatha bashing is on Jax's end (he doesn't like her), and the possessiveness Jax has is okay (and enjoyed) with the reader. A/N: I gave up on the tags, I also gave up near the end my brain is fuzzy...I just wanted to write something for myself for once...

You’d been stuck with the task of cleaning out the closet, and in theory, that shouldn’t sound like such a daunting task. Except this closet held heaven knows what when it involves Jax, not like you’re expecting a jump scare or anything, it’s his closet too. But he has a tendency for throwing a lot of bizarre things in here and you’re just a tad afraid of what you might stumble across.

There’s little that scares you, especially now in the circus. Caine’s little activities going south? Eh, that’s normal. Someone going missing for a few hours and the fear thought that they finally succumbed and abstracted? Okay, mildly worrying but not scary—unless it was Jax—which was unlikely.

But spiders?

A scream leaves your mouth before you can properly react, and the item in hand falls with a loud thud, followed by fast and loud footsteps from outside the room. “What’s wrong?!” Jax slams the door open, knocking over a few nearby items before rushing in.

He barely has the time to assess the situation before you lunge at him. What the fuck was happening? He’s never heard you scream like that and the only one allowed to make you scream at all was him.

“Kill it!”

Jax hisses as you try climbing him, tugging on his clothes and ears to get as far as possible from whatever it is you are screaming about. Despite the yelling and his confusion, he does hold you off the ground before calling your name.

“What the fuck are ya talking about?! Kill what??”

Burying your face into his neck you point over towards the closet. “Kill it!” Confused and irritated with you screaming in his ear, he takes a step closer to the closet only for you to scream again. “No! I don’t wanna go near it!”

“Christ doll…” Jax glances at the nearby bed and places you on it before turning towards the closet. The hell has you so bent out of shape? Kill it? Kill what? You do realize that he can’t just necessarily kill—oh so that’s where that went. He eyes the large spider and laughs. “Fuck, I forgot how huge this thing is.”

It takes a few minutes for the words to process through your panic. Forgot? “Excuse me?! You mean that’s yours?! Jax what the hell!”

He snorts and throws you a glance before looking back down at the ugly thing. “Oh yeah, I got it to throw in Pomni’s room. Must’ve forgotten about it.”

“Must’ve forgot—Jax… how the fuck do you forget a spider that big?! That thing pays taxes it’s that big! Don’t you fucking laugh!”

Jax bends forward, hands on knees in full unbridled laughter. Taxes, oh that’s a good one. “Oh c’mon, you scared of a little spider?” he mocks between laughs.

“That thing is not little!” You hiss. God, you forget how much of an asshole Jax can be, it’s rarely ever aimed at you. “Are you going to get rid of it or not?”

That spider is big enough to work a nine-hour job, pay taxes, and have a full family.

Your boyfriend is still yucking it up despite your suffering. Fine, two can play that game. Clouded by a mix of fear and frustration, the words left you before you could even fully process them. “If you don’t take care of it I’m moving out and staying with Ragatha, at least she’d get rid of the spider and comfort me instead of laugh.”

His laughter stops at the mention of the doll, a scowl replacing his previous smile. You aren’t wrong, Ragatha would easily get rid of the spider, she wouldn’t like it but it wasn’t a centipede which was fair game. After all, you’d gotten rid of the centipedes for her whenever he had left them in her room, something he’s still annoyed with. Let him have his fun.

He also knows it is an empty threat, you wouldn’t actually move out—not that you realistically could, you were both trapped here. But mention of that raggedy doll was enough to set him off.

Both of you were aware of her crush on you, something that only recently started to wane with the arrival of Pomni. She wasn’t manipulative like Jax, but she often voiced her thoughts on how you deserved someone better than Jax. As if implying she was the better choice. It always pissed him off, as if he doesn’t already know that, but you were his, not hers.

It felt wrong to use Ragatha’s crush on you like this, she was a sweet woman but your heart fully belonged to the asshole standing a few feet away. In truth you aren’t quite sure what led you to say that, it felt awful to use Jax’s methods against him or even to use them at all.

Jax wanted nothing more than to lash out but managed to hold back. He knows you didn’t mean it, you weren’t like him skilled enough to utilize the whole crush in a manner to break someone down, to hurt them. But boy if he didn’t want to just wreck some shit at the thought of that rag doll with you.

Instead, he channeled that irritation and energy into leaving the room, the door left wide open. Your loud whine went unheard until he returned with a plastic container that originally held his collected bug subjects. The spider had hardly moved still resting on one of the many things that came tumbling out of the closet.

He reached out to grab it and he heard you shudder and whimper behind him, no doubt flailing your hands in disgust at how he was just touching the spider so casually. It was always cute how you were such a big baby over him touching bugs.

With the spider contained he exited the room again, and like a child afraid of the monsters under their bed, you stayed perched on the bed until he returned.

“There, the little spider is gone.”

“That was not little…” you hiss lowly.

Jax chuckles but it’s strained, it’s easy to see your words are still eating at him.

You glance at the closet before looking over your boyfriend, tending to him trumps over the unimportant messy closet. “H-hey.. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I was scared and angry and—”

“It’s fine, angel.”

“Not it’s not!” You finally climb off the bed and step closer to him, this wasn’t gonna be brushed off so easily.

Jax pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling, of course, you aren’t going to make this easy on him. Christ he’d prefer to pretend this whole thing didn’t happen but no, you want to talk it out, make him vulnerable, and shit.

“I was scared and angry, scared because I hate…hate…spiders. Angry because you weren’t taking it seriously,” Jax scoffs. “You were laughing Jax, don’t give me that look.” At that, he at least has the decency to look a tad guilty.

“I wasn’t gonna let it near ya let alone hurt ya.”

“I…I know that…” Christ this is awkward, neither of you was good at this sort of thing. “Look, I am sorry about what I said. Bringing her into this wasn’t fair, you know I don’t like her like that. It was unfair of me to bring her up like that when I know how you feel about it, about her.”

On the outside Jax was playful with everyone, but on the inside, you knew he’d throw Ragatha off a cliff if he could—well he could but, never mind.

Jax gradually relaxed, at least enough to let his shoulders drop, watching you suffer and struggle through apologizing was reward enough. Looks like he wasn’t the only one shit at this whole thing.

“Look, we both suck at this whole thing so why don’t we just..” He groans and rubs his face before getting on his knee to be closer to you. “I’m sorry for being a jerk, and you’re sorry for bringing her up. We can leave it at that, capiche?”

Your eyes cross in momentary annoyance and it causes Jax to snort, which in turn gets a smile out of you. Of course, he wants to be blunt and get this over with. “Capiche, but,” he rolls his eyes and you take his face in your hands before he can pull away. “But, I want it said that I would never, leave you for her. I had no plans of leaving you at all, period.”

And he knows this, he knows but she still gets on his nerves. You belong to him, possessive behaviour be dammed. Sides, you liked it. You'd even told him so once when he’d gone off on someone in the past for trying to make a hard move on you. Not that that sucker was a problem anymore.

“Alright, I get it, enough mushy shit. Sides, ya too soft to use my methods against me like that, or anyone for that matter.” Jax stands despite your protests and pulls you to his chest in a hug that shuts you right up.

The two of you stand in silence holding one another, your face happily buried into his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. It’s calming and sweet after everything that happened until it’s not.

A scream echos through the hall and you can’t help but flinch, Jax’s gives you a gentle squeeze before grinning down at you. “Welp looks like Pomni found the gift I left her.”

Oh, that poor girl. She’s on her own with that spider though, fuck going a round two with that thing.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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snaileer · 1 year ago

Text

To Play Pretend

(PhantomVision Revised)

Let me out! Let me out!

This is isn’t real! It’s not real! Accept it, play along play along. Get out! Convince him, you have to convince him! Get out! Wake up! Snap out of it! Play along play along play along

Wake up! It’s not real wake up wake up accept it wake up wake up wake up get up get up get up

Bruce sits bolt upright with a haze of fog still between his skin and his mind. Immediately, his gut feels off, the way his shoulders are loose with the lack of anxiety and paranoia that he’s grown used to, the way his vision is not quite aligned to his senses.

And yet.. he can’t seem to raise the right sense of alarm. His mind stays slow and calm, even as he mentally screams to start investigating. Someone, something is messing with his mind.

He turns his head to the side of the bed he’s in-another thing he does not recognize- surprised to find Diana laying next to him.

How is she here? No, they were on a mission, investigating.. something. Why can’t he remember? He’d had Oracle on comms, Wonder Woman at his side, it was a Justice League mission- why is he-

Bruce winces, sharp pain running across the front of his brain. What was-

The door slams open, a boy he doesn’t recognize standing there, dark black hair, and blue-green-blue eyes. His mind jumps to son, a shallow feeling of family bubbling up that makes Bruce want to recoil, this isn’t Damian, it’s not Tim or Jason or Dick or Cass- this isn’t his son! This isn’t his family! he wants to yell out.

And yet, his mouth calls him Danny, a name he doesn’t know and says with such familiarity.

“Dad! Babs is being a know it all again!”

Bruce feels his face smile without his permission just as he sees Barbara step around the doorframe.

She’s standing, she’s younger, she looks just a little different, hair pushed back by a teal blue headband- Bruce wants to scream, something is wrong!- instead he smiles more as she ruffles Danny’s hair.

“Little Brother, you’re going to be late for school,” Barbara says, despite the fact that she had always, always been an only child.

Diana sits up beside him, and Bruce can’t even turn away from the two in front of him, no matter how much he tries, barely managing a wide eye look from his peripheral. He can’t tell if Diana even catches it. He can’t move, can’t interrogate the only unknown here, kid or not, can’t research or ask Oracle for more information. Barbara hasn’t been able to reply to him any more than he has.

Within a blink, they’re downstairs-how did they get here, what’s happening, is there a time distortion as well?- and Bruce is standing at the stove top, a pan of broken eggs with small bits of shells in them in front of him.

It’s manageable. He could still finish these eggs- unbidden he steps aside, a jovial laugh as Diana goodnaturedly scolds his cooking abilities, emptying the pan and starting anew.

Bruce turns. Danny and Barbara are both sitting at the table, Danny the picture of teenage recklessness, homework spread in front of him.

Every word looks like scribbles, staring too hard makes his brain hurt.

The toaster dings. Danny looks up at it, glaring. Bruce swears his eyes flash green-

“All done! Enjoy!” The clink of plates hitting the table makes them both look over as Diana sets them down.

Barbara and Diana share a look even as Diana stiffly turns back to the counters.

Bruce looks at the toaster.

Empty.

“Come on, Babs we’re gonna be late for school!”

Barbara hesitates, a pained look hidden just behind her eyes, “Danny, I- my legs hurt right now okay? I can’t drive us to-“ The words sound like a struggle to get out. And Danny stands stock still in the living room, looking at her with unnatural stillness.

“But you always drive us to school.”

Bruce watches Barbara’s body snap back to that same stiffness as before as she moves to stand from the kitchen table.

Bruce forces a step forward, smile on his face, “How about I drive you today, kiddo?”

“Okay, Dad!” Danny smiles, movement returning to the room. He moves to grab his backpack left against the wall and Bruce throws another look at Barbara from the side of his eye. She’s okay for now, body more natural as she returns the look with wide eyes herself.

Still, she stands and follows after them as his feet lead them to the car out front.

It’s an old station wagon, a stereotypical family car.

Even as Bruce walks around to the driver door, keys somehow already in his pocket, he catches Danny staring at the car with narrowed eyes and suspicion.

Bruce looked back at the car- truck, had it always been a truck, no, no, no, it changed it changed, things were changing.

Danny climbed into the backseat like nothing was different and Bruce did the same, Barbara behind him in the backseat.

His body is autonomous on the drive, even as Bruce tries futilely to jerk the wheel or slam the pedals, they continue to go forward on the road, Bruce’s face as calm as ever. It’s almost familiar, the two of them bickering in the back seat, chattering like his own children, there were his own- no! They weren’t! His kids were out there! Not here! Not here not here-

Bruce stops, awareness heightening abruptly, his limbs his own.

They’re at a stop light, despite there being no other cars around.

The backseat is silent.

Bruce turns back, surprised to see Danny staring silently out the window. He looks at Barbara next, grateful to see real emotion, pain, panic, on her face, not just hidden behind wide empty eyes.

Danny continues to stare out the window.

Bruce follows his line of sight across the street to a closed down burger restaurant. The outside looks clean, but the sign looks burnt and destroyed. Yellow caution tape flaps in the wind across the entrance.

“Danny, what are you looking at?” He asks, surprised to hear the words come out, completely of his own volition.

Danny doesn’t move.

“We don’t go there anymore.”

Bruce narrows his eyes, clues filing into order, “Why, Danny. What is that place?”

“We just don’t.”

“Why Danny, why is that place so-“

“We just DON’T, okay!” Danny shouts, face angry as he turns around to yell, and there- his eyes, that flash of neon-

Bruce is facing forward again. The light is green. The car moves, sound resumes.

His chance is gone.

Bruce wants to grit his teeth, clench the leather of his gauntlets beneath his fists. He barely manages to tighten his hands around the steering wheel.

Too quickly they arrive at the school. Barbara slowly getting out even as Danny practically races up the steps. Bruce wants to help her, surprisingly, his body follows. Allow him to support her under a hug, a fatherly hand on her opposite shoulder, fingers supporting her armpit as they go up the stairs.

Danny looks at them with a tilt of his head and furrowed brows.

Words fall from Bruce’s mouth, unbidden, as his feet force him backwards, “See you after school, Danno! Bye, Babsy-pants!”

The look vanishes from Danny’s face.

Seconds later, a man approaches them, eyes zeroed in on Danny.

“Ah, Daniel, glad to see you’re on time!” The man says, and Danny looks at him, blinking harshly with confusion apparent.

“You must be young Daniel’s father… Jack, was it?” The man smiles slightly and turns to Bruce, grey hair tied in a ponytail behind him, “I am his teacher, Mr. Lancer.”

Bruce’s neck tingles, an odd sense of familiar paranoia prickling his nerves, “It’s Bruce, a pleasure to meet you,” he shakes the offered hand automatically, watching as the man’s smile sharpens at the edges.

“And the same to you… Mr. Fenton.”

The name rings hollow in his memory, barely scratching a memory before it is buried under fog and stuffed cotton.

“I just have so much to teach him,” Mr. Lancer smiles again, watching as Danny finally walks fully through the school doors, turning down a hallway.

Even under whatever spell this is, Bruce is wary of this teacher, though he can do nothing to show it, even feel it past a surface notion of wrongness. But still, his feet carry him down the steps without his permission, away from a kid he is ostentatiously supposed to protect.

As he gets closer to the car, Bruce feels the cloud over his thoughts get thicker, step by step, each clogging his mind more.

He catches sight of the school’s announcement sign, the date.

Mid-October, the numbers hard to read, but he caught enough.

They were months into the school year already. How long had he been here? How long before he’d even woken up enough to know it? How long had he been away from his family?

His fingers clasp around the cool metal of the door handle.

Bruce blinks.

The bell rings.

Faceless, unfamiliar kids flood out of the doors and Bruce gets out of the truck- car, it was a car, it was a car-greeting Danny with a hug, Barbara with a helping hand.

They leave almost immediately, the two of them in the backseat as Bruce drives.

Occasionally, Bruce will look in the rear view mirror and find a completely different sight, the road cracked and broken, buildings abandoned, streets empty; and yet when he checks again, it’s gone. The reflection the same as the road before him.

He can only see it like a translucent image in his peripheral.

Somehow their route home does not take them back past the burger restaurant again. Bruce has used and discarded three different mind strengthening techniques by the time they are back in front of the house.

He parks, noticing for the first time how the air shimmers in front and top of it, the light shifting like a curtain covering furniture when he doesn’t look directly at it.

Diana is sitting on the couch in the living room when they come in, a laptop perched on her lap, looking for all the world like a stay at home worker.

The seemingly blank pieces of paper on the coffee table are discarded as she gets up and moves towards the kitchen.

“Welcome home Danny, how was school Babs?” She says, food preparations already set out around her.

Bruce walks towards her, a hand across her shoulders; the picture of loving parents.

He hopes the feeling of solidarity gleams through anyways.

Freedom of movement snaps through his body so suddenly he nearly staggers. He looks at Diana, a thousand words in one glance, then turns to Danny.

The boy is staring at the door on the side of the kitchen. By its placement, Bruce would guess storage, a pantry, a basement maybe. He hesitates to break the unnatural stillness in the air.

Diana is already halfway to the door, Barbara is at the table, thumbs flying across her phone screen.

He makes a decision, throwing away the facade, “Danny, where are we? Why are we here?”

Danny’s face furrows, head tilting in confusion, but his eyes don’t leave the basement door, green light seeping from the edges.

“We’re… at home. Right? I just wanted… I wanted to go home..” Danny says, eyes flickering that damning bright green.

Bruce presses on, he needs answers, “What happened here Danny? What is this? Why are we here?”

“I…” Danny’s face furrows further, “I don’t…”

The doorbell rings, snapping Danny’s attention to it. Taking with it his mind and movement, fog sliding over his senses.

Bruce’s looks at the basement door from the side of his vision, any hint of green light gone.

“Danny, your friends are here!” Diana’s voice calls out.

Bruce’s vision jumps to the front door, thankful that he follows Danny as he leaves the kitchen.

No no no.. no no.. not them, leave them alone, leave them out of this!

Tim and Stephanie stand at the door, plastic smiles on their faces as they high-five Danny.

“Hey guys! Ready to play Doom?!” Danny says, a wide smile on his face, leading them both inside.

Straight past Bruce.

They walk right past him, shallow words and teenage garble trading between them like it’s natural, like it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be?

NO! Not them! None of it’s real! Let them go!

“You know it Danny! I got new mods, maybe we’ll finally beat Steph!” Tim says, loud in way he never is, pulling a bulky PDA from his pocket.

Stephanie laughs, elbowing the both of them, “Not in a million years, T!”

Bruce watches, helpless to stop them as they go past him, raging against his own body.

Tim casts a desperate look over his shoulder before they disappear up the stairs.

He manages a glance at both Diana and Barbara, each returning the tense undercurrent of urgency that runs through them all.

Even as the fog thickens, submerging his thoughts like polluted waters, he forces his mind to center on one thought, even if that’s all he can do for now, he will not be locked back into this lie they are trapped in.

He will fix this.

Somehow.

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