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shomatoriashi · 2 months ago

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10/13/24; 05:50pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you ride them for the first time ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

you cling to the sheets, feeling sylus’s every touch on your skin as he kept you pinned against his bed.

your clothes had long since been tossed carelessly aside, your bare form becoming subjected to sylus’s hungry gaze. you watch as he licks at his bottom lip, his once crimson eyes eclipsed by complete darkness as evident of his lust for you.

his looming presence descends upon you suddenly, and you could feel the way his hot mouth kisses and nips at your skin. your back arches against the bed, feeling sylus’s every touch as he trails his lips down your body. the moment you could feel his large hand gripping at your chest, you let out a sharp gasp, earning a mischievous smirk from him.

with one last chuckle, he speaks your name in a hoarse tone before descending upon you once more. his tongue wraps around your aching breast, curling and prodding against the hardened nub as you cried out to him. your hands automatically delve themselves into sylus’s hair, basking in the sinful sensation of his mouth against your sensitive skin.

he litters your chest with hickeys and lovebites, causing the ache felt between your legs take on an almost painful potency. your gasps and needy moans of his name seems to spur sylus on when he finally removes himself from your heaving breasts.

“aw, what’s this? has my kitten gotten needy for me?” your cocky lover smirks down at you, using his large hands to continue teasing at your skin. he continues to play with your nipples, making your breath hitch when he squeezes at them.

“i want to try something new.” you manage to tell him in between your gasps for air, eyes already going hazy as you fought back the urge to just pounce on him. sylus stops playing with your breast just then, a single brow lifted up in curiosity and amusement for you, “oh? is that so?”

his chest was practically vibrating with laughter now, with him resting a cheek against the palm of his hand while looking down at you. sylus allows his fingertips to lightly grace at your skin, his touches no heavier than dew as he admires the goosebumps left erupting in the wake of his reverent caress.

giving him a sly smile, you were able to switch positions with sylus. with your hand felt pressed against his chest, you lightly shove him back against the bed, earning a grunt from him. as he lays back, his smirk simply widens, his cockiness reaching new levels when he places both hands behind his head, watching your next move with utter amusement.

but what he wasn't expecting you to do was to straddle his hips, grabbing his erection with your soft hands as you continued to stroke his cock, making it twitch beneath your touch before leading his mushroom tip into your entrance. and when you manage to sink down on him, completely sheathing him within your slick heat, sylus knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

you plant the palm of your hands against his chest, bouncing up and down on his cock while letting out your sweet moans, simply chasing your high as you used him for that exact reason. the onychinus leader ends up gritting his teeth in response to your movements, hand gripping at your waist tightly as you continued to ride him sloppily.

your inexperience with this new position was almost endearing to sylus, and as you began to pant, whimpering while trying to maintain your pace, he knew that you needed his help. letting out a sigh, sylus sits back up, wrapping his arms around your back while repositioning you on his lap.

"c'mere kitten, let me help."

when sylus begins pumping his cock in and out of you, he basks in your cries of his name. smiling almost victoriously in response, sylus leans down to capture your breasts in his mouth once more, purposely sucking on them while allowing his hips to meet with your downward thrusts-

never once wishing for this night of passion to end.

you thought you misheard zayne when he requested you to do something new for him while behind the closed doors of your shared bedroom.

"i'm sorry, but you wanted me to do what?"

currently, you were standing in your bra and panties, with your arms crossed over your chest while looking at zayne like he had lost his mind. yet still, he maintains that gentle expression, dressed in only a flimsy pair of boxers as you could see the noticeable tent in them.

"honey, i believe you've already heard me once, and i refuse to repeat myself."

with those last words spoken, zayne simply returns to the bed, laying completely on his back as he waited for you to join him. heat was felt against your cheeks, but perhaps more so than your flustered state was the growing ache that you felt between your legs.

your heart was racing when you finally joined zayne in your shared bed, but instead of laying beside him, you allow your body to straddle his abdomen. you had barely began to move, yet already, zayne's breath hitches when he feels your added weight against him.

with your thighs settled on both sides, you tremble, feeling his muscles beneath the thin material of your panties, the bumps and ridges making a pleasurable sensation go through you when you slide your aching cunt over them.

for our anniversary, i want you to use me.

you began to gasp at the memory of his words, your movements now getting even more desperate as you grind yourself against his body.

i want you to focus solely on your pleasure and use me as much as you'd like.

the love you felt for him began to overflow, making you lay across his body as you licked at his hard chest, basking in his gasps of your name and the way he delves his large hands into your hair. your movements become more desperate now, and you found yourself aching for something else...

i won't make a move or even stop you from doing what you wish to do to me.

letting out a breathy moan, you lift yourself away from him, taking off your soaked panties and unhooking your bra with one, swift movement. you hear the way zayne's breathing become more labored, watching you with an intense expression.

gripping at the waistband of his boxers, you gently pull it down, revealing his hard cock as it sprung out of the confines of the fabric. your mouth waters at the sight of his thick erection, now freed for your hungry gaze to admire. yet instead of placing him inside of you, you chose to place the underside of his cock against your entrance.

with your hands remaining planted against his chest, you began stroking zayne's cock with your soaked pussy, making the pleasure he felt become even more heightened with each stroke you gave him while using your cunt. zayne was at a loss for words, with his head remaining tossed back against the pillows as his hands gripped at the sheets below him.

you kept going, the squelching sounds of your slick heat providing the most delicious sensation against the side of his cock, making zayne's eyes clench shut in hopes of preventing himself from climaxing too soon.

only when you felt the familiar twitch coming from him did you finally grip at his cock, slapping the tip of it against your aching cunt before slowly coming down on him. you allow your pussy to take him inch by excruciating inch, not stopping until he was completely sheathed inside of your core.

you couldn't stop your head from being tossed back, basking in the red hot pleasure that fills you. using the moans that came from zayne to push you forward, you begin riding zayne, running on pure instincts alone as you continued to chase your high while bouncing up and down his cock.

and in this very moment, nothing else mattered the moment you became one with the man who loved you so deeply.

when xavier slides off your sheer nightgown, kissing at your inner thighs before using his teeth to slide off your panties-

you were an absolute goner.

xavier was the first serious lover you had, and the fact that he worshipped the ground you walked on was something you had yet to get used to. he was so beautiful to you, and the love he offered you was enough to leave you crying.

never before had you been loved so unconditionally.

completely in tune with you and the way your body responds to his every touch, xavier was seen licking his lips, his features hidden from you the moment he places his face between your legs. you shiver upon feeling the way his hot breath was felt against the sensitive skin of your cunt.

your heart was racing with anticipation, with you wondering what his next move would be. yet you didn't need to wait for long the moment you felt xavier slide a finger inside of you, drawing out your honeyed arousal as you grip at the sheets in response. you hear his light chuckle of your name, adding a second finger inside of you while making gentle scissoring motions, spreading your walls for what was to come.

with his fingers buried so sweetly inside of you, you couldn't stop yourself from trapping his head within your thighs, your whimpers of his name echoing throughout the room as you found yourself wanting more.

when you try to move your hips against him, xavier keeps you still, taking advantage of his strength when he grips at your waist with his free hand. he pumps his fingers in and out of your heat a few more times before pulling them out of you. he watches the way his fingers glisten with evidence left from your arousal, closing his eyes as he cleaned his digits with his mouth.

you tremble, watching the way his tongue laps away the sweetness of your arousal before groaning at the taste.

"fuck, nothing tastes as good as you do."

running on his desire to get even more of your taste, xavier grips at your thighs with both of his hands before surging forward, his tongue already tracing at your pussy lips before traveling inside of you. feeling the wet muscle invade your pulsating walls makes your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, with xavier drinking up everything you had to offer.

but when he adds introduces his finger once more in hopes of drawing out your release, it was suffice to say that he succeeded in his mission.

you felt the onslaught of moisture escape from your slick heat and into his awaiting mouth, spilling yourself into him while xavier swallows your release with a groan. your hands grip at his hair in an almost painful manner, your thighs tightening around him as you rode out your high by grinding your cunt against his face.

several minutes later, once xavier finishes with cleaning the evidence of your release with his tongue, he lays back beside you in bed with a grunt. you weakly turn around and meet his gaze, seeing the sweat that runs down his body. as you trail your eyes downward, you saw the way his erection causes a tent against the sheets, the sight of it all making you lick your lips in response.

while xavier rests and tries to catch his breath, you decide to straddle him, earning a questioning glance from xavier. leaning down to kiss at his chest, you purposely travel down his body, licking the beads of sweat away from him before whispering, "it's your turn."

not tearing your gaze away from him, you grip at the sheet, pulling it away from xavier's body to reveal the full extent of his erection to you. knowing that he was more than ready for you, you grip at his shaft while leading him to your entrance.

you bask in the shaky tone of xavier's voice when he says your name, feeling happy when he arches his back against the bed the moment you come down on his cock. you allow your cunt to slide down the entire length of him, letting out a pleased moan when your hips finally met with his hips. once he was fully sheathed inside of you, you bounced up and down his cock, riding him with a desperation you hadn't felt in a long time.

knowing that it was his turn to feel pleasure, you purposely quicken your pace, your breasts bouncing in tune to your movements as xavier willingly surrenders himself to you, getting lost within the sensation of your walls wrapped so tightly around him.

ever since you knew of your boyfriend's increased sensitivity that came along with his heightened state of arousal, to say that you took advantage of that fact would be an understatement.

in fact, you often used these moments to tease your lover, basking in his soft moans and the way he seemed to submit so willingly to you. as you both remain within the comfort of your bed, you began to trail kisses all across rafayel's neck. smiling against his skin, you use your tongue to lick away at the beads of sweat that appears, hiding back the pure delight you felt each time you heard his breathy whines of your name.

"mmm, you're always so cute each time your body gets worked up like this." you lightly tease him pressing your naked body even closer to him.

"my love-" rafayel's words were cut off when he let out a hiss of your name, feeling the way your fingertips lightly trace at his chest before traveling down his abdomen. you hum, admiring the way his body seemed to tremble before erupting into goosebumps in response to your touch.

your smile was sweet and gentle, but the way your hand kept traveling lower and lower were anything but sweet. your touches never stopped until they reach the sheets that barely cover his waist. letting out a pleased hum, you pull back the sheets, admiring the way his pretty cock was colored an almost angry shade of red with pearls of precum escaping from his tip.

"such a pretty thing." you softly coo at him before forming a fist with your hand, gripping at his erection before stroking him. his sighs and grunts of your name were like music to your ears, making you stroke him even faster, with you wanting nothing more than for the young artist to fall apart with your heated caresses alone.

you keep on stroking him, using the pad of your thumb to play with his tip, wiping his precum across it while tightening your grip around his cock. when you felt that familiar twitch, you allow your strokes to become faster, basking in the way rafayel arches his back against the bed before releasing himself into your hand.

his moans were chopped and broken, but still oh so pretty as you kept stroking him, milking him for all he was worth with your hands alone. only when you were certain that his spurts of cum had ceased did you continue with your next plan.

your gaze maintains its loving quality, watching as rafayel falls back in bed, his chest heaving in tune to his rapid breathing. with an arm tossed across his eyes, you take advantage of the way he couldn't see you and proceed to straddle his waist.

when rafayel feels your wet cunt against his sensitive cock, he winces, feeling his once limp cock become half-hard upon feeling the way your slick heat surrounds him. your smile simply widens when you use your cunt to stroke him back to full hardness, moaning excitedly when you feel him literally growing from beneath you. only when you were certain that he was fully hard for you did you grip at his newly acquired erection.

"love-" rafayel was cut off once more, letting out a cry of your name the moment he feels your slick heat surrounding him, gripping his cock tightly inside of you. when your hips meet with his, you arch your back and rest the palm of your hands behind you, directly on top of his thighs.

utilizing this new position, you work your thighs and allow yourself to stroke his cock with your cunt, the squelching sounds of your lovemaking now echoing throughout the room. along with rafayel's moans, you knew you had to act fast-

especially if you wanted him to climax first.

and as you basked in this intimate act of becoming one with your beloved lemurian, you managed to achieve your goal numerous times throughout the night.

end notes: it’s been a while since i wrote a thirst post for my favorite lads men, so i did something about it 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

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sacharinee · 2 years ago

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pairing: bf!peter x reader

synopsis: peter likes having you close to him. all the time

wc: 630 ish

a/n: surprise! another one oops. im rlly bored can u tell? cuddling prompt with peter. reader is a cheeky and annoying lil shit. one office reference. i saw a tiktok about this a long time ago and thought this would be a cute idea to write about. also does anyone know how cuddling works tho?? if ur laying on ur side, do u just lay on top of the arm ur crushing on? under a pillow? idk lol. anyways i hope u like :D

there's an ache settling in your right side that wakes you up from your sweet slumber. your head lays atop peter’s soft chest, his steady heartbeat against your ears. it was what lulled you to sleep in the first place. but with peter’s body practically being your own personal heater, the warm air filling the room, and the prominent soreness resting on your side, you began to feel uncomfortable.

“pete,” you whisper.

peter is entirely unfazed. his hold on you is strong. his face is towards you, mouth slightly ajar, letting out the softest of snores and drool out the corner of his mouth. although you love your cuddles with peter, you think he could actually suffocate you in your sleep. the boy loved to sleep, especially on top of you.

your limbs are tangled together. your left leg slung around his waist, arms around his torso, while his buff arms embrace your shoulders protectively.

ever so slightly, you begin to move your leg, retreating it back to your side as you push against his body and establish a more comfortable position. you snuggle further into peter as sleep wins you over once again.

it only lasts for a second when you wake from your boyfriend’s murmurs, he seems to talk in his sleep when he whispers your name. he huffs loudly and smacks his lips a couple of times with his brows furrowed. you feel his warm hand reach for the back of your knee to bring it over his crotch.

a confused look paints your face as you gaze up toward him. he’s asleep as dead. did he really just do that? you almost laugh out loud. his quirky behavior never fails to amuse you and has your stomach going in flips. he just wants you close to him. :(

but you think you’re funny, so you test out that theory one more time, this time blatantly stripping your leg away from him.

this gets a reaction out of peter. he seems to wake when he gusts an impatient breath, “no” and grabs your knee again, forcefully holding it against him.

in disbelief, you’re unable to contain your burst of laughter as you hold yourself up with one arm and stare at him wide-eyed, “what is wrong with you?”

“ph’shhh” peter knits his brows together, his eyes shut tight with a cute pout, as he blindly brings a hand to your face and gently shoves your head back against your pillow.

“peter-” “shut up.” he feels you lick the palm of his hand, “yuck,” but he doesn’t care to move it away from you. it’s only when you swat his hand away and settle back down against him to give him peace of mind. only for a moment, though. you have fun annoying peter, almost like a hobby. he’s halfway asleep when he feels you aggressively snatch your leg away from his hold.

“y/n!” peter groans, “stop it.” this time, your boyfriend pushes you on top of him, your entire body weight lays over his while he keeps a tight grasp on you, making sure to keep your leg over his waist and your head upon his chest.

his irritation riles you up, and you’re giggling through it all.

peter’s not having it though, not at all. he heaves another deep breath through his mouth, with the same grumpy look on his face, “why are you the way you are?”

you gasp, “me?!” “yes, you.”

not done yet, you flick his forehead, “you know, you’re so annoying sometimes, pete.”

he scoffs, “oh yea?”

“yea. a total pain in the-”

peter shoves his hand against your face and into his chest one last time, “ass.”

you decided you’ve had your fun but you’re too delighted to go back to sleep. too delighted to know that the boy you love and cherish always wants to be impossibly close to you all the time, conscious or not.

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acid-ixx · 3 months ago

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to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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astarionancuntnin · 3 months ago

Text

Remember Me

summary: you cant make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell, hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. its all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

rating: E

word count: 7k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, act 3 spoilers related to astarion's side quest, mentions of kidnaping and torture, memory loss, blood feeding, vampire bites, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v, The Leg Thing followed by mating press, sweet love making, love confession. full list on ao3

a/n: loosely based on this audio (18+) from OGY.

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Pain.

It’s the first thing that hit you when your consciousness came back to you.

How much everything fucking hurt.

Your entire body felt as if it had gone through the nine Hells, all at once; you could barely find the strength in yourself to get to your feet, let alone push yourself off the ground.

Then it was the disarray when you couldn’t place what had happened for you to feel so awful.

It was as if you had woken up from a long sleep; distant voices in your head, blurry faces merging together when you closed your eyes, and an awful feeling of emptiness, as if you had forgotten something extremely important but you couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how much you thought about it.

Nothing but endless darkness.

As much as you tried to remember your life, anything before this moment, you were met with a dark fog clouding your vision. Your family, your friends — if you even had any — had all vanished from your memory. You think you remember yourself, for the most part, but even that was a stretch; you couldn’t even remember your own bloody name.

You look around you, realising for the first time that you were in a prison cell. The course of events after waking up in this dark cell hadn’t helped; the sudden cold inhabiting you, followed by this man — this monster — barging in without as much as a warning before pushing you face first against the ground and ripping open your shirt, to then torture you as he carved your back with his knife, only to leave as suddenly as he had appeared. Barely a few words exchanged, aside from some mumbling about teaching “him” a lesson, whoever that was, and you were alone once again.

Alone, with nothing but this seething pain in your back from the butchery you had gone through, the hunger digging into your belly, and your blood leaking from your shivering form, pooling around you on the cold, hard floor.

You barely had the time to gather your thoughts when the same man came back barely minutes later to carry you out of your cell and into a larger room — keeping you restrained with some magic that visibly came from his staff — where more people waited.

By the looks of it, you had been right on one thing: this was indeed a dungeon, and you were located in the deepest part of them; this room contained only a round, rock platform, located above an endless, foggy pit.

In the state you were in, you couldn’t catch everything he said as he went on a monologue. Something about powers, freedom; whatever it was, they needed you to achieve it, that was the only thing that was clear from his speech. You couldn’t understand how any of them would follow a maniac like him, but in their eyes you noticed how they listened to his words with as much fear as awe.

Your form was shivering from the cold; you wanted to cover up your top which had been previously ripped off from your body, but it was all in vain: the restraints of his magic kept you in place, and right after his speech, you were sent flying over a designated spot floating above the ground, just like all the six other people that had surrounded you previously.

Your arms remained bound to your sides by whatever spell this monster had cast on you, leaving your chest exposed to the damp, cool air of this dungeon, and your fresh wound stinging evermore at your back.

You remember the panic tightening in your chest when you realised you couldn't escape. You remember the brief relief, hope even, at the sight of a group of adventurers approaching — one of the figures shouting at the man in the middle of the room — followed by explosions and screams. Then the fear settled in when you saw them execute one of the other unfortunate souls magically held floating around this room, one new truth forming in your mind.

They weren’t here to save you.

You would be next. They would kill you. You would die here.

The pressure in your chest grew tighter as you closed your eyes and mourned your life, one you didn’t even remember experiencing, one that — you hope — had been full of adventures, of acquaintances… of love.

This last one must’ve been true. You remember being loved — more so how it felt, even if the feeling seemed so far and long ago. You remember the butterflies in your belly, the fluster in your heart, the heat between your legs; you remember just enough to know that if you died today, at least, you would’ve died as someone who had been loved.

You didn’t expect your feet to touch the cold hard ground once more. You remember falling to your knees, your body exhausted by the abuse it had gone through in just the last few hours. You remember your dry throat when you noticed the butchered corpse in the middle of the room, barely recognizable anymore.

“Gods… what has he done to you?”

But you couldn’t seem to place the face of your saviour. The bloodied, silver curled elf who had rushed to kneel next to you after defeating your captor, who approached you and held your face so carefully.

How those crimson eyes of his had widened in horror when you flinched at his touch and backed away.

Him and his group had killed one of you who stood in this circle, who’s to say he wasn’t here to finish the job? Lure you in with a sweet touch only to snap your head off; you knew better than to let yourself fall for the first man to approach you.

“Darling, it’s over now.” He had said with his voice low, getting back on his feet to approach you as if you were an injured beast, “Just take my hand, we’re getting out of here.”

You didn’t know whether to feel insulted or reassured by his assertiveness, but you remained frozen in place, your eyes switching from the hand extended out to you and his severe look that you reciprocated with a frown to hide your terror.

“Look,” he sneered, “you can either take my hand, come with me out of this hellhole, or rot away in this godsforsaken—”

From behind him, someone from his group called out a name which stopped him mid-sentence just as his tone was rising.

“Astarion.”

A name that felt oddly familiar, despite the void in your memories. It danced beautifully as it echoed across the room and around your mind; there was something about it that just sounded right.

Astarion. A name worthy of being written in the stars, you find yourself thinking, the sound of it bringing you a familiar sense of peace, of security.

Astarion. Maybe if you repeated it enough in your head, something clearer would come up. Maybe, just maybe, then you would remember.

He took a deep breath and continued, which brought you back from your reverie, “I’m quite certain you went through the Hells and back, but for now, I’ll have to ask you to trust me, just as you’ve done in the past. Can you do that for me?”

He extended out his hand once more, this time a request rather than a command, his voice carrying out his concerns, “Can you trust me?”

“Why would I trust someone I’ve just met?” You wanted to ask, but something about the way he asked struck a chord, as if you did know him. As if you knew he spoke true when he said you used to trust him, and you finally accepted the hand he held out to you.

A hand that pulled you to your feet, and guided you out of this dreadful place.

You were given a cloak to cover your shivering form, and you walked along with them back to their camp. Back to this intriguing, yet charming man’s tent, where they all agreed you should rest for the night.

The first thing that hit you when you stepped in was the smell.

You didn’t know what it was exactly, you couldn’t recognize it, but it was intoxicating; it only made your stomach churn more. As the adrenaline of the previous hour settled down, you fell to your knees, grabbing onto your waist as the pain that had been muted came back screaming through your guts.

“Shit—” He rushed down to check on you, with one hand down your back, holding onto you, “Darling, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?! I was tortured, starved off, almost sacrificed for all I know, and I can’t even remember who I fucking am!” Is what you wanted to say, but all you could manage out is a groan in the middle of your sobs.

When you lifted your head, your eyes fell onto the set of messily arranged bottles from where the strong smell came from, and a quick exchange of glances told him everything he needed to know.

“Of course, you’re hungry,” He sighed heavily, "Look, I’ll gladly offer you some from my own reserves — after I’ve taken a look at your wounds.”

You had almost forgotten about them.

You averted your eyes from his gaze, your mind now racing as you expected the worst. You had no way to see what had been done to your back, but the pain you had gone through was a good indicator of how bad it would look.

Met with your silence, he continued, “I need… to see what he’s done to you. Please.”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the dark bottles briefly considering pouncing on them to get a taste as your mouth watered in anticipation, but you reluctantly turned your back to him as you sat with your legs pressed back into your stomach, barely helping mitigate the pain in your stomach.

As you let the cloak fall from your shoulders, you heard nothing but a shaky, deflated sigh behind you. Seconds of silence passed before you considered turning around, but a part of you was terrified of the look you would find on his face.

You finally found the strength to utter your first words.

“Is it… that bad?” Your voice was rough from neglect, as the last time you had used it had been to scream when you received this torture.

You heard him take a deep breath, shaking away the shock that had previously rendered him speechless, “You must’ve already known what he carved away in your back. Hells, I knew before even looking, but seeing it…” he pauses, his tone quieting, “seeing it is another story completely.”

“I… I don’t know,” you muster with a weak voice. It's true, you had no idea, he had carved your damn back, you had no way to see the extent of his torture.

He took a deep breath, shaking away the feelings that had sneaked their way into his voice, “It’s no matter, it’s over now; Cazador is dead. He won’t hurt—” he paused, as if processing the information himself, “Anyone, ever again.”

You turned around to face him this time, “Who’s Cazador?”

He huffed, “I’m glad it was that easy for you to forget about him, but when you’ve suffered under his hand for nearly two centuries, the memories tend to linger.”

You remained silent as you stared at him, just as shocked as you were confused by his words. When he noticed your stare, his face twisted in concern, “Oh shit, you’re serious.”

You nodded silently.

He continued, tentatively, “He was my master, he’s the one we killed back in the dungeons — the one who abducted you, who did this to you. Do you not remember any of this?”

You shook your head slightly, never leaving his gaze.

“Oh dear.” His voice dropped as his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened all at once, “Do you remember anything at all — the absolute, our adventure… Do you remember… me?”

His eyes went back and forth between yours, as if he was searching them for any sign of recognition, looking for you, whoever you were behind those confused, teary eyes. You gave him another shy shake of your head, followed by a single tear coming down your cheek, a tear you weren’t sure why it was shed; whether it was from the loss of yourself, or the mourning of something you didn’t even remember having.

“Gods…” He breathed out heavily as his sight left you, his mind visibly ruminating. “He can’t… He couldn’t have… He…”

His tone suddenly changed as he growled, “That monster.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back at you, “You were with us just yesterday. You were — are this group’s leader. If… If you have no memories of your mortal life then it means…” he looked away, frowning, “He rushed your transformation to replace me in the ritual.”

None of the words he had said made any sense to you, “Transformation?”

He turned back to you to be met with your visible confusion, and he explained further, “Normally, when you’re turned, you need to be drained of your blood and buried six feet underground, before you can crawl out of your tomb to be reborn. This process takes a day, usually, and when you awaken, you are still you, but immortal and bound to your master,” he spat out the last word like it left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

“Now you,” he continues, “you were turned within twelve hours, which would explain why your eyes are only half red, why your fangs haven’t come out yet, and…” his voice quieted down, “why you have no memories of your past. As if the rushed transformation had actually killed this part of you along with your humanity.”

You remained focused on the first thing he had said: your eyes had changed colour?

You hadn’t had the chance to look at yourself since your awakening and if not remembering your name wasn’t anxiety inducing enough, you realised you couldn’t even recall what you looked like.

All of a sudden, panic rushed its way into your heart; you needed to see yourself. You frantically looked around the tent to find anything that could send back your reflection and practically jumped on the pocket mirror when you spotted it nearby Astarion.

Only the mirror was broken. It must’ve been; it reflected nothing.

“If that wasn’t obvious by now, this should’ve clarified things a bit,” he said.

He lowered the mirror you still held in front of you, expecting your image to be reflected eventually, maybe at a different angle, maybe with more light. Maybe another one would, maybe you were just delirious from everything that had happened only today.

“You’re a vampire now. No matter the angle, you’ll never see your reflection come out of this mirror. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Vampire.

The word didn’t make sense; nothing made sense.

Yet, when you parted your lips to let your tongue run against your teeth; you found your canines the same size they were, that they should’ve been, but they were much sharper than what would be considered normal and you almost pierced your tongue from the gesture.

“Maybe…” he carried on, lost in thought, “there’s even a chance that the tadpole has been messing around with more of the changes your body is going through.”

“Tadpole?” You interjected, your head shaking of its own in disbelief. “What?”

He huffed in astonishment, “So you really do remember nothing.”

You sighed, “I— I don’t… As much as I try, I’m met with a void of memories. The only thing remotely familiar since I woke up has been… you.” His eyes had gone soft and bright with hope, but also melancholy. “I don’t know who you were to me, and I don’t know why, but some part of me knew I could trust you.”

He chuckled, a sad smile finding its way over his lips, “Even with your memories gone, it seems I can’t leave your mind, can I?”

You gave him a smile of your own, “Would you mind… reminding me of my life? Of us?”

“Gods, where to start, darling. Would you believe me if I told you our story began with me holding a knife to your throat?”

You found yourself smiling unconsciously, “With everything that's happened to me in the last few hours, I find that easy to believe.”

“And strangely enough it's probably the least odd part of our story.” He tilted his head, giving you a genuine smile before carrying on.

“It’s all tedious, really, but… There’s one memory I want to tell you about: The night of the tiefling party. Ugh, it was dreadful for the most part; the wine tasted like vinegar, the music was too loud, and there were too many of those bloody tieflings at our camp, to be quite sincere— “

“Not a people’s person I take it?”

“My dear, after years of being forced on and by people, the last thing you want is to be surrounded by more of them.” The sight of you parting your lips and raising your eyebrows told him you had also forgotten about this and he quickly caught onto it, changing the direction of the discussion back to the topic at hand. “But, there was one good thing that came out from this night: when we met in the woods. I had high hopes of you joining me there — although no doubts, of course — I was the most suitable option among our group after all.”

“Most suitable? Someone else wanted to spend the night with… me?”

“Darling, the whole world and their mother wanted a special moment with you. But only one of us got that honour. A chance to steal away with everyone’s new favourite leader.”

The faint sounds of the party fading: music echoing through the forest, people laughing, the cool air of a summer’s night breezing through, and good company throughout the night.

“I have been waiting for you. Waiting since the moment I first saw you. Waiting… to have you.”

You blinked, “You… were waiting for me in the woods, I’m— I’m remembering.”

“I did put a lot of effort into my entrance, I would be upset if you didn't remember it quite honestly.” You laughed softly. “Do you remember what happened afterwards?”

Your eyes roamed as you pushed the memory further, before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, “You… kissed me.”

“After you had the audacity to say I didn't have you yet while you had come to me of your own volition, yes, and then?”

You chuckled, but your smile quickly faded as your memory unlocked the next part of this puzzle. He looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes; he was simply waiting for you to say it yourself.

“We made love.”

He sighed dramatically, “Love is such a big word for what happened back then, but…” his tongue clicked, accentuating the end of the word, “That was certainly the start of it. The start of a series of feelings that came and complicated everything. It’s what pushed me, soon after, to confess to you that it was all part of a silly plan I had to keep you in my favour. I was terrified, honestly, especially considering it was all because I initially manipulated you to fall for me…”

He paused, searching your expression before carrying on, and continued when he found nothing but soft eyes looking back. “But then — despite everything — there you were, holding me tight.”

He let go of a deep breath.

“For so long I had nothing — no one. And all of a sudden, there’s you, who held onto me, who cared so much more than anyone ever did. And I found myself not wanting to let go. I couldn't.”

He frowned, turning his gaze away, “And Cazador used that against me. As soon as he had word of my whereabouts in Baldur’s Gate and the crowd I was hanging out with, he jumped at the first chance to torture me once more. He probably thought I was unaffected by any physical pain he could impose on me by now, so he did the next worst thing: take it out on the one person I cared about in this wretched world.” He shook his head, “If we hadn’t gotten there in time—”

“But you did.” You interrupt. “You saved me and yourself in the process. This ritual wouldn’t have given you the freedom you think it carried.”

His eyes lit up, “You talk as if you knew what it entailed.”

You nodded, “It’s coming back to me, bit by bit. I remember what you told me about him. I remember the purpose of the ritual, and your plan to replace him and take his power instead.”

He sighed, “Gale thought brilliant to kill one of my brothers to stop Cazador from carrying on with the ritual. Bloody wizard didn’t realise it meant I couldn’t continue it myself then.

“Maybe he did.” His gaze flickered back to you in confusion before you continued, “You don’t need satanic powers to carry on, Astarion. You’re free now.”

He huffed, “And all it cost was my life in the sun.”

“Well,” you tilted your head, “It did cost me mine too. Once the tadpoles are gone, we’ll both be banished to the shadows once again. But we’ll be together, and that’s something at least.”

He rolled his eyes before landing them on you, “At least the transformation didn’t take away from your heartbleeding optimism, dear.”

You chuckled, “Thank the Gods for that— ugh!”

You clutched at your stomach, your body tilting forward in pain, and Astarion instantly knew the cause of your suffering; it’s something he recognized all too well.

“Hells, you must be starving. Gods know Cazador wouldn’t waste a single drop on a lowly spawn — no offence, dear.”

“None taken,” you forced a humourless laugh. “I shouldn’t have expected much considering I was to be cattle for a satanic ritual.”

He turned around and you kept a close eye on him as he handled the bottles beside him, pulling out a silver cup out of his bag of holding to pour you a portion.

“Here,” he sat back down, parting his legs open, extending one arm to you, “Come on love, sit back against me, would you?”

You stared unsure for a few seconds but obliged him. You scooted back until your back was fully resting against his chest, leaving no space lost between the two of you.

When he brought the cup forward you reached for it but he pulled back, clicking his tongue, “Oh no, my sweet, I will be the one to feed you tonight. This is your first time, we wouldn't want your primal instincts to take over now, would we?”

You turned around to stare at him for some time with incertitude and he simply tilted his head, with a sly smile, “Humour me, darling. You’ll be glad you did, hm?”

You pressed your lips together almost pouting, but acquiesced as you nestled yourself between his legs, your tense body laying against his chest once again.

He brought the cup to your mouth at long last, while his other hand held onto your chin. You gasped at his touch — while not unwelcome, it was a surprise — and you parted your lips to welcome your drink.

His hands were rough against your skin, yet there was a softness to it that made you melt under his touch. Made you want to push further into his hand to know how it would feel around your throat. It was almost enough to make you forget about the drink against your lips. Almost.

While the mere closeness of it had been invigorating, drinking it was ecstatic. It felt like your first meal in weeks, and it might as well have been with the pit that had replaced your stomach.

You took big gulps of the delectable nectar, barely pausing for air as you rushed to empty the cup’s content, eager to have your fill with this delicious substance.

“Slowly now darling,” he pulled the cup away from your lips and you gasped at the loss of your feeding source, “This is your first time feeding; I wouldn’t rush things.”

You frowned, but complied; even if you were starving, he had over two hundred years of experience with this form — you barely had a few hours. Your mind wasn’t all there yet either, and it's true that you couldn’t trust those new primal instincts to be civil enough to drink responsibly.

You held onto the one truth you knew, one that was clear ever since the start: you trust him.

You eased back into him, letting him hold you and guide you throughout your meal. The cup rested at a slightly down angle against your lips to allow you good mouthfuls of blood without overfeeding you all at once.

“There, good girl,” he purred. “You are doing so well for me, love. Small sips now, let your body recuperate from the shock.”

There was something about his voice that soothed you, brought you a peace of mind, a calm after this storm that had been your last few hours.

A shiver down your spine, that travelled all the way down between your legs.

You finished the content of the cup at a slower pace than you had started, soothed by his soft approach and the new blood filling your stomach, and he took this chance to explain more about your condition while pouring you another serving.

“Considering this is your first feeding, you’ll need a bit more to carry on until your next meal. Mind you, it’s normal if you don’t feel full; this is a curse, after all. The real challenge is to learn to live with your hunger.” He cleared his throat as he brought the cup back up to your lips, full again, “Alright now, open up, love.”

You hungrily parted your bloodied lips to welcome another serving.

“There, there, just like that.” A soft whimper left your throat between sips, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “Shhh, you're okay, you're doing just fine.” He leaned next to your head to whisper, “You’re perfect, my sweet.”

For a moment, you could swear you felt your heart beat anew.

You drank with his help until you finished one full bottle from his reserve, and with the pain in your stomach settling down, you allowed your body to relax against him. That’s when you felt something poking against your back, something you wanted to taste as much as the blood that had blessed your tongue just moments ago.

And he must’ve known, too.

“So, as you must’ve realised, your hunger was a side effect of the transformation. But what you’re feeling now, which I can very much smell on you, is a result of your feeding.”

If any of the blood you had ingested had made it in your veins by now, they must’ve all rushed to your cheeks at this very moment.

“Blood,” he continued, “Brings us back alive temporarily; it warms us, allows our hearts a few shy beating of their own, but it also reawakens other mortal pleasures. The first time it can be… a tad overwhelming.”

“It’s…” You hadn’t realised how quiet your heart had been until it started beating away once more in your chest; your cheeks felt warm, your breathing had accelerated, and your core was aching. You breathed out your reply, “It really is.”

As you turned your head aside, resting against his shoulder, and your eyes lingered over his lips, another primal urge awoke in you to devour him, in every way possible. You needed to taste him, his mouth, his blood, his come—

Until you were blessed with another sudden memory, and you turned away from his lips, gazing anywhere that wasn’t on him to stop yourself from acting irrationally.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry—”

He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him in one fluid movement. “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling, and I would be more than happy to entertain these carnal thoughts I saw in those eyes of yours. Unless you’d rather spend the night with someone else?” he teased.

You held your breath as he brought you closer to him, his hand lingering over your cheek. If you just closed the distance now, you could—

“No, Astarion, I won't force—”

“Stop that right now.” He cut you off without skipping a beat, stunning you once more. “You are not forcing yourself onto me or forcing me. This, right now, right here, is my decision.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, drawing you closer to him, your lips but a whisper apart.

“I want this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice lustful and heavy with need. “I want… you.”

Your eyes locked and the second after, his lips were pressed against yours and you let yourself get lost into this kiss. How his hands held on to your face, how his tongue tasted the blood on your lips, how he whimpered into your mouth at the contact of your own tongue; this memory of love you had remembered earlier, it had been a memory of this.

His kiss, his touch, his voice, him.

Your kiss was engulfing, springing your heart back to life in a sudden rush as you met every of his kisses with the same passion, and soon enough, you were laying back against his bedroll, with him over you and stealing your breath away; one — you didn’t realise yet — you didn't need anymore.

His hands rested next to your head and you allowed yourself to reach up to hold his face, trace the lines of his age over his cheeks and down his neck, and trailing along the opening of his shirt before he broke apart from your lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this for many nights now.”

“What would I be like as a vampire?” You asked semi-jokingly.

“No, silly — Although, the question did flit into my mind once or twice, but no. I was thinking of how I would have you, the next time I would bed you. I’ve touched myself at the thought of having you again, the sounds you would make, how your cunt would feel wrapped around my cock instead of my hand—”

He took your hand from where it was resting and guided it down between his legs, and a short gasp escaped you when you felt how hard he was.

“ —but tonight, after spending a lifetime looking for it, I finally know what I want.” His half-lidded eyes seemed darker than they had been, and you lost yourself in them, "And Gods help me if I can't have you—”

“I’m yours,” you answered back in a heartbeat, your voice but a whisper, “I’ve always been, and I’ll always be, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your words broke the remaining chains of control Astarion had over himself, as he pulled your pants off from you and removed his own shirt while your hands fumbled with his trousers. A moment later, you both laid against one another, as bare as you were on your first days on this plane of existence, your lips back on each other.

“Mmh, I wonder…” Astarion let his kisses trail down from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck.

“Hm?”

“Now that you’re a vampire,” he left small kisses alongside your neck and down your shoulder, “your blood will taste different.”

“You’ll still drink from me?”

“Well of course, dear,” he lingered in the crook of your neck, before licking his way up to your ear where he whispered, “And I can’t wait to know how you taste after you’ve tasted me.”

You shivered against his breath, fully expecting him to bite you following those words, and when he didn’t you were almost disappointed. He, on the other hand, seemed extremely satisfied with himself.

“Eager already? And here I thought I was the most depraved between the two of us.” You sighed heavily as he came back up to face you, “Maybe I will be tasting you tonight, after all. Is this something that you want?”

You smiled softly, your hand finding his cheek again, “Yes.”

When your lips met this time, it was soft, pure, communicating words you hadn’t exchanged yet despite your longing for one another. It only made you want him more.

“Speaking of tasting you,” he said against your lips, “I wonder if something else has changed.”

You barely had time to process what he had said when he made his way down your chest, briefly sucking on one of your nipples.

“Mh,” he released it with a pop, “this one still tastes the same.”

He moved to your other breast to give it the same attention, teasing it with his teeth and earning him a moan from you before releasing it, “This one as well.”

He left a path of kisses as he trailed down your navel, until he was resting between your legs with a hungry look in his eyes, “Now, for the main course—”

You weren’t prepared for his fangs to dig in the inside of your thighs, making you scream in surprise as your hands grabbed onto the sheet of his bedroll. The pain quickly turned into pleasure as he nibbled and kissed the softness of your thigh, before making his way to your wet slit, which begged for attention.

The smell of you invaded his senses and you could feel his breath over your core as he breathed you in, his arms now wrapped under your thighs as he laid on his stomach and between your legs, “Darling, you smell divine.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his tongue pressed against your entrance and he slowly licked all the way up to your clit, “And you taste— Gods, you taste even better than before.” He smiled up to you, his mouth covered by a cocktail of your blood and juices. “I didn’t think it could be possible.”

You were past words by now, but even if you had come up with something, you don’t think you would’ve been able to utter anything with the way his tongue worked between your legs, devouring you of your essence.

“I would forsake blood for the rest of my days if it meant I could nourish myself only of your essence, my love,” he said between licks of you. “The Gods truly made you to ruin me; I could never move on from your taste, even if I wanted to.”

His hands surrounding your thighs and his nails digging in your flesh kept you in place as he continued to worship you, and no matter how much you wiggled, his hold on you held on, as if you were the first meal he was having in days and he wouldn’t let you go until he was sated.

Astarion recognized the signs of your unbecoming as your breathing started shaking and your legs tensed around his head, pushing him to tease you further.

“Are you gonna come for me now?” He smiled between your legs, “Come on, love. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

The vibration of his humming as he continued to savour you only added to the feeling of his tongue, lapping at your entrance and sucking over your sensitive bud, and his nails digging deeper into your thighs added a delicious hint of pain. After weeks without any sex, you were sensitive to the slightest touch, and now there he was: tasting you, devouring you, wanting you; it was all too much.

“Ah… Astarion!”

Your head fell back against the rough floor of his tent as your back arched and stars clouded your vision. You knew how ironic it was to think so, but you had never felt more alive than you did at this very moment, with your devoted lover worshipping you like the goddess who had finally answered his prayers from all those years ago.

Your legs collapsed as he let go of them to move back up to face you, and he took this chance to hook your leg with his, pushing it upwards to create the perfect angle for him to place himself against your entrance.

Your half-lidded eyes met his, delirious with lust, and you wanted to express the feeling that had been weighing on you for too long now, but when his lips collided with yours and you tasted yourself, all those words got lost on his tongue exploring your mouth.

“I’ve waited so long to finally have you,” he said breathlessly against your lips. “I kept pushing back, thinking it was never the right time.”

He licked his lips, wiping off the string of saliva that connected your mouths. “When you disappeared… I thought I had lost my only chance. I’m done waiting around.”

He slowly pushed himself into you with a low groan as he felt your slickness wrap around him, and you threw your arms around his neck as you moaned into his ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So tight and warm, all for me. I would stay here inside of you for a decade if I could. You feel exquisite, my love.”

He retracted himself slowly, and plunged back in with the same agonising pace, taking in the feeling of your inside. “I’ll enjoy taking my time with you; discovering what makes you tick, tease every one of your sensitive spots. But tonight — I just want this: feeling you wrapped around me and to know that I’m the reason for your unbecoming.”

His pace accelerated, each thrust of his hips brushing against your clit as your bodies almost fused as one, pushing you closer to another edge already.

A particularly well placed thrust had you dig your nails into his back and he hissed into your ear, “Darling,” he panted, “Remind me to trim your nails when we’re done.”

You quickly realised what he meant when a poignant smell, stronger than the bergamot, brandy, and rosemary you smelled on him previously, invaded your nostrils and your mouth watered in response. What you didn’t realise was how you ended up breathing down his neck, just against the popping vein conveniently displayed for you to bite down on. Just one bite away from ecstasy.

“Still hungry, little love?”

You were snapped out from your daze by his voice purring into your ear, pulling away from his neck and blinking as you gained back control of your thoughts.

“I’m— It’s just— Your blood smells really, really good.”

He chuckled, “I tend to have that effect on people. Would you like a taste?”

You forced yourself to look into his eyes, “I… Are you sure?”

He smiled, “There’s nothing I’d like more, my love.”

His gaze reflected sincerity and you gulped as you found your way back in the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his sensitive skin. You licked the vein you had sensed earlier but didn’t push further. That’s when you felt the vibration of his chuckle, “Go on, darling. I can take it, I promise.”

With his permission, you pushed your small fangs right over the vein in his neck, relishing in the sudden flood of his crimson in your mouth.

Whatever you drank a few minutes ago was nothing compared to his blood. He was the source in a desert you had been roaming for days, one you couldn’t believe wasn't an illusion, and you drank, and drank, losing yourself in his neck, in his taste, the very essence that fueled him.

You couldn’t tell how much you had drank or how much time had passed when he growled and pinned your arms next to your head. His hips thrusting once, deeper into you and hitting your cervix is what makes you unlatch from his neck with a moan.

“I believe that’s enough, love. Now, let me taste you.”

His lips collided with yours hungrily as he increased his pace between your legs, and he groaned at the taste of himself on your lips, running his tongue across your small fangs.

“Fuck, I need you, I need to make you mine. I need—”

Something snapped within him, a side of him you couldn’t recall ever seeing — one that he could finally let go as he pushed your legs up, pinning them down across your chest and pounded deeper into you.

He growled into your ear as he desperately rutted into you, nearing the edge of his climax at the same time as yours, “I want you, I want you for the rest of our lives, please be mine, be mine, be mine!”

“I’m yours, I'm yours, I— I love you!”

You screamed as you came, his own orgasm following closely after yours, the wave of emotions clashing with the sparks of pleasure coursing throughout your body, and for a moment, you think you died and came back to life within the same minute. It was stronger than anything you remember feeling — even with your memories still scattered, you think you’d remember something as powerful.

It’s only when you came back to your senses and was met with Astarion’s soft, dumbfounded expression, that you realised what you had just said. Panic slowly made its way into your heart and you struggled to find the right words to correct yourself.

“I’m sorry— I—”

He didn’t allow you to finish that sentence, kissing you once more to steal away those thoughts of regret that faded instantly as he pulled back to speak.

“I love you too, darling.”

Your future was paved with incertitude; your memory wasn’t all there yet, but you remembered what was important for now, and if forgetting your past was the price to create new memories with him, it was a price you were willing to pay.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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candy69gurl · 7 months ago

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𝐇𝐘𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄- HOW YOU MET THEM

WARNING: mentions of violence (Toji and Sukuna), flulff SYNOPSIS: Introductory post of my HYBRID JJK VERSE NOTE: Upcoming- Mating season (smut)

ᯓ★ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎- BAT HYBRID

THUD

You jolt up from bed, heart racing, as the sound pierces the silence of the night. Throwing off the covers, you leap out of bed, curiosity mingled with concern driving you to investigate. Creeping to the window, you cautiously peek outside, squinting into the darkness.

There, sprawled on the ground below, lies a figure, human in form but distinctly different. Your breath catches in your throat as you discern the shape of black wings and pointed ears against the dim moonlight. With a rush of adrenaline, you dash downstairs, your mind racing with questions and apprehension.

Approaching the fallen being, you notice the unmistakable mark of fear etched on his face, accentuated by the ominous black mark on his nose. "Hey?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper.

Startled, the creature turns to face you, his eyes wide with a mixture of fright and pain. His deep, resonant voice trembles as he speaks, "Please… help me. My wings… I think they're broken."

Your initial shock gives way to empathy as you realize the gravity of his plight. "Are you… a vampire?" you inquire, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

He shakes his head slowly, strands of black hair falling across his pale, gaunt face. "No," he replies, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I am half-human, half-bat."

With a surge of determination, you extend a helping hand, offering to assist him to his feet. As he rises, you catch a clearer glimpse of his features - his ebony hair tied back in two distinctive edges, his pallid complexion, and the weary, haunted look in his baggy eyes.

Without hesitation, you guide him back inside your home, the weight of his brokenness heavy on your shoulders. As you lead him inside, you vow to help this mysterious being, to mend his shattered wings and perhaps, in doing so, to heal the wounds of his troubled soul.

You carefully bandage his broken wings, but upon closer inspection, you realize the damage is more severe than initially thought. With a heavy heart, you express your concern, "They don't look too good… I suppose you can't fly for a while."

He meets your gaze with pleading eyes, a silent plea for compassion. "Can I stay with you until then?" he asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You pause, contemplating the implications of inviting this enigmatic being into your life. After a moment of reflection, you reply, "Fine… you can stay. It will take time for you to adjust with me."

A mixture of relief and gratitude wash over him as he pulls you into a heartfelt embrace, craving the warmth of connection. You can't help but smile at his earnestness, understanding the yearning for companionship hidden beneath his otherworldly exterior.

ᯓ★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 & 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔- CAT HYBRIDS

You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of chattering coming from your kitchen. Groggy and confused, you sit up in bed.

Something is definitely wrong.

You wobble on unsteady legs as you make your way to the kitchen to find out what’s causing the noise.

The kitchen light is off, but you can hear some rustling sounds. You flip on the light switch, and the noise stops. As your eyes adjust to the brightness, you see them—two large cat-human hybrids, one white and one black, wrestling on the floor.

Their eyes immediately meet yours. Milk is spilled all over the floor, adding to the chaos.

Their gazes lock onto yours as spilled milk creates chaos on the floor.

You're stunned, unable to move. The black one gestures at the white one and accuses, "It's all his fault," his voice smooth as velvet. He leans towards the white one, nudging him gently with his muzzle, provoking a growl from the white hybrid. In the dimly lit room, his eyes shine brightly, though slightly smaller than the white one, he carries a similar aura of power. His tail wags eagerly, tapping the floor with excitement.

The white one pushes his muzzle away with a paw, his white-pinkish ears constantly twitching; the action is gentle, the two clearly having a good relationship despite the light teasing, "No, this is Suguru's fault."

Confused and overwhelmed, you blurt out, "Get out of my house!"

They both give you pleading looks. The black one speaks again, "W-We just wanted some milk... We were hungry, and... your windows were unlocked... Please, can we stay here for a few days? We have nowhere else to go."

Exasperated, you sigh. "Fine, but only one of you can stay. I can't take care of both."

They cling to each other, pleading desperately. "Please, we can't be apart."

Rubbing your forehead, you relent. "Okay, but no causing trouble. Both of you can stay."

Instantly, they pounce on you, showering you with joyful licks as they express their gratitude.

ᯓ★ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀- TIGER HYBRID

"Come out of that cave for god's sake," you call out, waiting for the creature to emerge so you can snap a good picture. You've always enjoyed photographing animals, so when you heard about the new tiger-human hybrid at the zoo, you were eager to capture it on film. Choosing the evening when the area is deserted, you head to the enclosure, hoping for uninterrupted photography.

"Oh... Oh, I see it," you mutter, attempting to zoom in with your camera. A glimpse of pink hair catches your eye, but it's not clear. Then disaster strikes. Your camera slips from your grasp, and in your attempt to catch it, you lose your balance and tumble into the cage.

As you hit the ground, the tigers in the cage swarm around you. Panic sets in as you realize there's no one nearby to help. You curse your own recklessness as the tigers prepare to attack. But then, the pink-haired hybrid steps forward, his voice deep and commanding.

"Brave of you to jump into the tiger's cage," he remarks. The other tigers seem to cower in his presence. He kneels down to your level, his tongue darting out, saliva glistening.

"Finally, a good meal," he says, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Desperately, you plead for mercy. "P-please, let me go. I'll do anything."

He chuckles darkly which sounds more like a roar. "Anything, you say? Hmm... Then get me out of this cage," he demands. Fear grips you as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"H-how... I don't..." you stammer, but he interrupts, seizing your throat with a deadly grip.

"Then be my meal," he growls.

Frantically, you agree to help. "F-fine... I'll help," you manage to choke out, hoping it's enough to spare your life.

With the hybrid's grip loosening slightly, you scramble to gather your wits. Your mind races as you try to devise a plan to fulfill his demand.

How can I possibly get him out of this cage? you think, panic rising like bile in your throat.

Suddenly, a thought strikes you. The gate! If I can somehow open the gate... With newfound determination, you manage to croak out, "I need... the keys... to open the gate."

The hybrid regards you with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. "Keys, huh? You expect me to believe that?" he snarls.

You nod frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes, yes! The keys! They're... they're with the zookeeper. I am thinking of a way. Just let go off me!"

The hybrid eyes you warily, then releases his grip on your throat. "Fine," he grumbles. "But make one wrong move, and I'll finish what I started."

As you struggle to come up with a plan to escape the dangerous situation you've found yourself in, you spot movement outside the enclosure. With a surge of hope, you see a zoo staff member approaching. Frantically, you wave and call out for help.

The staff member's eyes widen in shock as they spot you inside the cage. "What on earth are you doing in there?" they exclaim, hurrying over to the gate.

You quickly concoct a story, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. "Someone locked me in here! I'm the vet, and I was checking on the hybrid when the gate closed behind me. Please, hurry and bring the keys!"

The staff member looks hesitant, clearly taken aback by the situation, but they nod and rush off to retrieve the keys.

Meanwhile, the hybrid eyes you with suspicion, his predatory instincts on high alert.

"Just make him faint when he brings the key. Don't hurt him, okay?" you plead, hoping to appeal to his sense of self-preservation.

"Why should I listen to you?" he roars, his patience wearing thin.

"Because I'm helping you escape," you reason, desperation creeping into your voice.

Grumbling, the hybrid reluctantly agrees, his gaze never leaving the approaching staff member.

When the staff member returns with the keys, the hybrid pounces without hesitation, pinning the unsuspecting individual to the ground. A deafening roar echoes through the enclosure, and the staff member faints from sheer terror.

Quickly, you snatch the keys from the fallen staff member's hand and unlock the gate. The hybrid bounds out of the cage, his powerful form moving with grace and speed.

As you both make your escape, the other tigers seem almost relieved to see you go, as if they're eager for the chaos to end.

Once you're safely outside the enclosure, you lock the gate behind you and return the keys to the unconscious staff member's hand. Then, under the cover of darkness, you and the hybrid make your way out of the zoo.

But just when you think you're in the clear, the hybrid pounces on you once again, a hungry gleam in his eyes. "Time for my dinner, don't you think?" he growls.

"W-wait! You told me you wouldn't hurt me! I helped you escape!" you cry out, tears welling in your eyes.

He licks your cheek with a smirk. "Well, when Sukuna is hungry, he eats anything that's in front of him."

You try to wriggle free from his grasp, but his paw-like hand holds you firmly in place. "Please... I have food at home. Don't eat me! I'm not tasty!" you plead desperately.

"Do you have meat at your home?" he asks, his tone surprisingly calm.

You nod frantically, hoping beyond hope that he'll spare you.

"Fine. I'll follow you to your home. But if you're lying, I'll eat you right there," he warns, his gaze unwavering.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you lead him to your home, each step heavier than the last. When you arrive, you quickly retrieve some meat from your fridge and offer it to him.

He seems content for the moment, but then he declares, "Very well. This is my new home."

You try to protest, but he cuts you off with a dismissive snort. "As long as you don't tell anybody I'm here, everything will be fine. You know what will happen if you do."

ᯓ★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎- BLACK PANTHER HYBRID

Sweat drips down your forehead as you run through the dense woods, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear the loud growls and snarls of the tiger getting closer and closer. The adrenaline rushes through your veins as you trip over a fallen log. You hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of you. You look up to see the tiger bearing down on you, its yellow eyes full of hunger.

As your fear intensifies, you can't help but think how you ended up in this situation. Why did you decide to take the shortcut through the woods instead of sticking to the paved streets? Now you're about to become a meal for a wild beast. Your mind races through all the things you could've done differently, the choices that led you here. If only you had taken a different route, your life might be different now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, preparing yourself to face your fate but soon enough an unexpected event unfolds. A massive, black form leaps onto the tiger, sending it tumbling away. The two animals engage in a furious battle, the sound of snapping teeth and growls deafening.

Your body aches and your feet throb, the injury bleeding profusely. The adrenaline is quickly waning, and you can feel your consciousness beginning to slip away. You try to run, but your body won't cooperate. The throbbing in your head intensifies, and the world starts to fade to black.

As your eyelids fall shut, you're left with the knowledge that your life hangs in the balance, an unwitting pawn in this primal struggle. The two animals continue their violent dance, oblivious to the fact that the prize they both seek is barely clinging to life mere feet away. Your breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps as blackness engulfs you, consuming your senses, and you slip into the abyss of unconsciousness.

You stir and slowly awaken in a pitch-black space. Your injured foot tingling, and you realize that a warm, rough tongue is lapping at your wound. With your heart pounding and your eyes adapting to the low light, you leap up in surprise to see a big, hybrid figure standing in front of you. Part panther, part man, his muscular form is a testament to its feline heritage. His deep green eyes pierce into you, holding an air of mystery. A scar etches a jagged line along the right side of his mouth, giving his face a dangerous edge.

Despite his menacing demeanour, there is tenderness in the way he looks at you. With a deep, velvety voice, he replies, "I don't eat humans, so don't be afraid."

Your voice trembles as you ask, "W-why did you save me?"

He responds with a casual air, "Ah, that tiger was a menace, always trying to feed on humans. Thought I'd teach him a good lesson." A flick of his panther-like tongue gently traces your cheek, as if silently asking for your trust.

Overwhelmed by the turn of events, you manage to stammer, "Can I go home now?" His face softens, and it's clear that he's reluctant to let you go. He's developed a connection with you, but yea he has to let you go so he eventually nods with a heavy heart.

"Fine, you don't look too good to go by your own. Your foot is injured, and other animals can hurt you." He looks at you with concern, his green eyes fixed on your bleedings. "I will help you return home."

With an unspoken bond formed between the two of you, he gently lifts you onto his back, using his strong, muscular arms to support you. The warmth of his body offers comfort, and you can't help but feel safe and protected, even as you're carried through the still-dangerous woods. He moves with the agility of a panther, his steps sure and confident.

His panther-like ears twitch with each new sound, alert to any potential dangers. He dashes through the woods at a breakneck speed, your directions guiding him towards the safety of your home. Your heart races in your chest as you cling tightly to his neck, grateful for his strength and protection.

The journey seems to go by in a blur, the whirlwind of events leaving you shaken. But, with every passing second, the comforting thought of returning to familiar surroundings grows stronger. The sight of your home, drawing nearer, brings a sense of relief, and you can't help but let out a breath you' have been holding. You slide off his back onto the pavement, the familiar crunch of gravel underfoot a stark contrast to the softness of the woods. You turn to face your savior, words of gratitude tumbling from your lips.

The first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow over the landscape. Your savior begins to turn away, the time for him to leave drawing near. Panic wells up inside you, and without thinking, you reach out and cling to him. The thought of him departing too much to bear. Your voice quivers as you plead, "Please, don't leave. Can you stay with me for a few days?"

He regards you with a mixture of surprise and concern, his green eyes holding a wealth of emotions. "I can't," he responds but your pleading eyes seem to have an effect on him, and after a moment of hesitation, he relents slightly, "All right, just for a day. After that, I'll have to return to my place."

His agreement brings a wave of relief, and you cling to him for a moment longer before stepping back, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you," you breathe, leading the way inside your home..

Little did he know, the decision he made to spend a day at your house would change everything. As the hours pass and the day turns into night, the sense of comfort and safety he provides begins to weave its way into your heart. You find yourself growing increasingly reluctant to let him go, his presence now a much-needed source of calm amidst the chaos of your life.

ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐆- BEAR HYBRID

As you walk down the street, the cold winds bite at your skin, creating an eerie atmosphere. Suddenly, you notice several men trailing behind you. Panic sets in, and you break into a sprint, ducking into an empty alleyway. But as you reach the end of the alley, you realize there's no way out. They've surrounded you.

Alone and terrified, you feel like your luck has run out. But then, a noise startles everyone. Heavy footsteps echo in the alley, and all heads turn. A massive creature lumbers toward you, sending the men into a frenzy. "A bear!" they cry, scrambling to escape over the alley walls. Left behind, you remember a tale about playing dead to evade a bear's wrath. With trembling body, you collapse to the ground, feigning unconsciousness.

As the creature draws closer, it speaks in a human voice, catching you off guard. "Either you're playing dumb or you think I am," it remarks, its features coming into focus. It's a peculiar sight – a man with an average build, sporting short black hair styled longer on top, dark eyes, and a thin mustache. But atop his head are unmistakable brown bear-like ears, and his stature is massive, resembling that of a human-bear hybrid.

Confusion swirls in your mind. Could such a creature exist? Before you can ponder further, he chuckles and remarks, "You owe me a jar of honey."

Bewildered, you sit up, daring to ask, "What are you?"

His response is gentle, "A bear hybrid, I suppose."

You speak again, "I.. don't have any honey with me."

"Too bad," he replies with a smirk, "You seem like honey to me." Fear still grips you, but he reassures, "Don't worry, I won't eat you... yet." His mischievous grin sends shivers down your spine. Uncertain of what to make of this bizarre encounter, you cautiously accept his offer to escort you home.

Despite your initial trepidation, you find yourself trusting him, if only because he saved you from a perilous situation. And so, with this creature by your side, you embark on the journey home, your mind buzzing with questions and disbelief.

As you reach your home, his presence is somehow comforting. "My honey... dear?..." he murmurs softly, and you fidget with your fingers, trying to find an answer. "I don't have it. I will have to buy and then..."

Before you can complete your sentence, he leans in, cupping your cheeks, his lips find yours. Your eyes widen in shock at his sudden, electrifying kiss. It sends a shiver down your spine, grounded by his arrogant proclamation.

"Mhm, you are sweeter than honey," he whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet I'm gonna stay with you until my one jar is complete."

You stutter, taken aback by the unanticipated intimacy. "U-until what's complete?" You question, still trying to fully process the bizarre encounter.

The bear-man, now seemingly confident in his claim, swaggers into your home as if he owns the place. You follow hesitantly, lingering at the door.

"Until I get one jar of honey," he clarifies, sitting down on the couch, "But I bet it won't take long. Just the sight of you alone is sweet enough." His voice drips with innuendo, and you blush furiously, unsure how to respond.

"Y-you can't just barge into someone's home," you stammer.

"My apologies, but the circumstances call for it," he responds nonchalantly.

You are stunned by his boldness, yet you cannot overlook the fact that he saved you from those men. Maybe it's the thrill of this wild encounter, but you can't deny that he's charming. "I-I.. I don't know," you reply, unsure of whether you're ready to have your world turned upside down by this enigmatic creature.

ᯓ★ 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈, 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈, 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 & 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄- BUNNY HYBRIDS

"This white one, this black one, this brown one, and this grey one... YEYYYY!" you exclaimed in pure delight as you gazed upon the adorable human-bunny hybrids in front of you. Their fluffy ears twitched, their small tails twitched, and their eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"I WANT ALL OF THEM!" you declared, unable to contain your excitement. But your parents, standing nearby, didn't seem as enthusiastic about the idea of bringing home four new additions to the family.

"Y/N, choose only two," they urged, trying to reason with you.

But you weren't having it. You wanted all of those charming creatures, each with their unique color and personality. "No, I WANT ALL OF THEM!" you insisted, jumping up and down and throwing a small tantrum.

"All four will be trouble," one of your parents sighed, exchanging a knowing look with the other. "I don't think your kid is going to listen," the latter chuckled.

ᯓ★ 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈, 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 & 𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐄 - DOG HYBRIDS

Before you were born, three special beings were already part of your family: Hiromi, Nanami, and Kusakabe. They're dogs mixed with humans, each with their own unique qualities. Hiromi is the oldest and wisest, Nanami is gentle but strong, and Kusakabe is full of energy and happiness.

In one word- they're family. They were already part of the family long before you arrived. When you were born, they were already there, part of the household. When they first saw you, they felt a strong connection with you, even though you're a bit different from them.

ᯓ★ 𝐌𝐀𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎- SNAKE HYBRID (NAG)

"Big News! The nag broke free from the lab! If you spot it, call this number: 69696969696969."

You switch off the TV, muttering, "Why can't they keep a better eye on animals? They don't deserve this. But I wanna see what it looks like" You head to the kitchen for some food. Suddenly, you hear a hissing noise. "I need to clear my mind. I'm even hearing snake sounds," you smile to yourself, and then you freeze. "Wait... hissing sound?" You turn around to see a huge snake with a human-like upper body and a snake-like lower half—typically mythological character like.

You find yourself in the midst of a gripping situation. The room feels charged with tension as you stand face to face with the escaped nag. Its presence is both captivating and terrifying.

The nag towers over you, its imposing figure a stark contrast against the mundane surroundings of your home. Its upper body bears a resemblance to that of a human, but its lower half is unmistakably serpentine, coiled and ready to strike.

Its face, marked with intricate patchwork patterns, holds an otherworldly allure. Its eyes, one a deep, mysterious blue and the other a haunting shade of gray, seem to pierce through your very soul.

Long strands of grayish-blue hair cascade down its back, swaying with each subtle movement. They are neatly sectioned into three thick strands, each tied off at the end, adding to the creature's enigmatic appearance.

As it grins, you can't help but notice its fangs—two of them, each as large as a snake's, gleaming ominously in the dim light of the room.

But perhaps the most chilling sight is its tail, which coils around your body with a vice-like grip, constricting your every movement and leaving you gasping for air.

In this moment, fear and disbelief course through you as you realize the gravity of the situation. You are face to face with a creature straight out of myth and legend, and it has you firmly in its grasp.

You try to scream, but the nag's grip around your waist is too tight, choking off the sound. You can feel your breathing becoming labored, your chest constricted, the nag's tail seemingly tightening with each panicked attempt to draw in air.

Your heart races as you wait for the jagged teeth to sink into your flesh, but instead of biting, the nag's forked tongue darts out licking your teary cheek. The contrast between anticipating excruciating pain and gentle caress makes your blood run cold.

Your whimpers fade as you gaze into the creature's heterochromia eyes. "Hooman~" Its voice is like the rustling of autumn leaves, soft yet unsettling. "Not gonna hurt you if you don't hurt me."

A look of confusion crosses your face as he releases you, still gripped by confusion as to why a creature capable of such destruction is harming you not. "You escaped from the lab, right?" you ask tentatively.

The nag lets out a small pout, "They treated me very bad..." Tears begin to stream down its patchwork face, and you're left wondering if the display is genuine or nothing more than an act. "I want to be taken care of... Do I not deserve it?"

You find yourself grappling with your own emotions, the nag's pleading expression tugging at your heartstrings. You're still scared of it but somehow, you can't seem to resist its charms. Biting your lip in indecision, you finally reply, "I will tell them to take care of you in a good way. You should return there."

He shakes his head vehemently as his tail coils even tighter around you this time, almost comforting. "No... Not gonna go there AGAIN!" he protests, his voice laced with desperation. "Please... You look like a good hooman... Please take care of mee~" It presses its face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. The nag's cold touch adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

"Are you sure... you can stay with me?" you ask, mindful of the consequences but feeling a strange kinship forming. The nag's face lights up, and you can see how desperately it wants this. "Yes... yes, please."

Given the situation, you sigh and agree to the nag's request. You realize that it's not going to leave you alone anyway. Plus, it's not like having a nag as a house pet is an everyday occurrence.

ᯓ★ 𝐀𝐎𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎- GORILLA HYBRID

As the sun shone down on the lush greenery of the picnic area, innocent you sat with your family, enjoying a delightful family picnic. Amidst the laughter and chatter, you decided to indulge in one of your favorite snacks - bananas. Grabbing one from the fruit basket, you eagerly peeled it open and devoured it in no time, savoring its sweet flavor.

Bananas Bananas Bananas, I LOVE BANANAS

But one banana was not enough to satisfy your craving, and you reached for another. As you peeled it open, a sudden poke on your shoulder startled you. Whipping around, you found nobody there. Shrugging off the odd sensation, you turned back to your banana, only to find it mysteriously missing, leaving only the peel in your hand.

Confused and slightly unnerved, you grabbed another banana from the basket, determined to enjoy it without any interruptions. Yet, once again, a poke on your shoulder disrupted your moment, and when you looked back, the banana was gone, just like before.

Frustration mounting, you stood up and scanned the surroundings, searching for the prankster responsible for the disappearing bananas. Your eyes fell upon a figure giggling mischievously nearby.

"You did it!" you accused, rushing towards the person, but it darted away with surprising agility, effortlessly climbing up a nearby tree.

In your attempt to follow, you ended up stumbling and falling, landing with a painful thud. As you winced in pain, the laughter ceased, replaced by a sense of guilt. The figure descended from the tree and approached you cautiously.

"Sorry," he muttered, extending a hand to help you up. Looking up, you found yourself face-to-face with an unusual sight - a hybrid creature with a big body and chest like a gorilla but the face and features of a human. Despite his intimidating physique, he seemed of your age.

"You could have asked me," you scolded, rubbing your sore limbs.

He hung his head in apology once more, explaining that he couldn't resist the opportunity to play a harmless prank.

As you talked, you realized that despite his unusual appearance, you felt a strange connection with him. He was just like you, craving friendship and acceptance.

When it was time to leave, you hesitated, not wanting to part ways with your newfound friend. Gathering your courage, you introduced him to your parents, who were taken aback by the sight of the hybrid creature.

"That's not a human," they exclaimed, exchanging worried glances.

But as you pleaded with them to let your new friend come home with you, they relented, touched by your earnestness and compassion.

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witch-hazels-musings · 2 months ago

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seeing you get hit

Genre: angst/comfort NEUVILLETTE x GN reader | Anthology warning: the reader is punched in the face, kicked (2xs), mention of pain and discomfort / Mesulines are treated unkindly and spoken too derogatorily / Neuvillette obliterates a guy (oh also you wake up in his bed -- fufu) Synopsis: *character* becomes progressively worried about you not returning - as the hours tick by, they notice a commotion has started and find you in distress as they check it out. Quickly they head to where you were and, well, their reaction to seeing you being accosted by someone in the middle of the city, let’s just say they took matters into their own hands

"Sir, please calm down," you said, raising your hands to appease the irate man waving about. You moved to position yourself between him and the Melusine and could feel her trembling as she latched onto your clothes.

"How dare you raise your voice to me!" he shouted, swatting at your hands, forcing you to shuffle backward toward the canal. With how tightly the Melusine stood beside you, it became increasingly difficult to not trip over her.

"I can see you're angry -"

"I'm not angry, I'm annoyed. I want an apology from that - that thing, now!" He jutted his hand toward the Melusine and she hid further behind your leg. Rage billowed off him like salty wind on the high seas, every transgression equalling small cuts that made you wince. You knew there were those who dislike the Melusines, but you never had the disgusting privilege of meeting one - until now.

"I did say I was sorry, sir," she mumbled, to terrified to speak louder than a gentle caress of water over shallow rocks.

"There, will that satisfy you?" you asked, hand against his chest to keep him from moving closer. He locked eyes with you, shoulders heaving, face flush and red. His stare darted between you and her, back and forth, increasing in frustration. You moved until he couldn't see her at all. "Leave."

His lips curled into a feral sneer. "You think you're bravely protecting it, huh? If it's so important, let it face me-"

"Her."

"What?"

"I'm protecting her."

Rage swept over him and, without thinking, you shoved the Mesuline to the side and took the full force of his blow.

---

Neuvillette made his way through the crowd, chin lifted as he carefully took in the people. Some smiled at him, others bowed their heads in dutiful respect. He minded neither, but returned their gestures with a kind nod.

He rarely had intentions when he wandered through the city. It was typical for him to meander like a slow moving river carving a lazy path to nowhere in particular but today he felt a strong desire to happen upon someone. You. One who had grown rather close to him over the last several months, one who, at times, would come by to, 'check in on him,' while he worked, one who found a habit of leaving bottles of mineral-rich water on his desk when he was away. He found your company, pleasing.

Though, so far, his unassuming searching had come up empty. Did you make mention of leaving Fontaine today? He couldn't remember.

Near the canal, frustrated voices billowed on the wind. A crowd had formed in a rather unusual way. He stared, unable to see through the bunched people when something tugged on his leg.

Neuvillette pushed through the crowd. They jumped out of the way and tripped over themselves to allow him through while he looked ahead at the sight beyond their breach and felt the blackness of the sea consume him.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" the Mesuline shouted, her eyes filled with worry.

---

"Are you okay?" The Mesuline asked, her face inches from yours as you coughed and blinked through the white. A high-pitched ring clogged your ears so you opened your mouth to clear the noise only to gasp at the pain it caused.

"You stupid -- so desperate to go down with those fucking things? Fine!" The man shouted. You looked his way just in time to see his leg fly toward your stomach. It sent you careening into the stone pathway and knocked the Mesuline halfway into the water. You tried to grab her, but she slipped from your grip when you landed on your arm, it bent unnaturally in your tumble. You cried out but that didn't stop him from slamming his foot into your chest.

Gasping, you rolled onto your back and stared at the blinding sky. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. The Mesuline rushed toward you and you lifted a shaking arm to block them from the man's wrath.

People screamed and rushed forward to grab the man as his foot came down toward you but all you saw was radiant blue rising toward the sky, and from its shimmer came the rain.

A massive wave rose from the canal and covered the land in a shallow, unmoving layer of crystal-clear water. You could make out the bodies of onlookers but they seemed frozen, more like mirages, glistening in quiet stasis. The buildings of Fontaine reflected in the mirror-like water, making your stomach flip, but the hovering figure in the eerie blue turned your skin cold.

"What is - what's happening?" the man asked, panic seeping from him as he searched for familiar ground. He looked at his feet only to shout and stumble onto his backside. "Monsters! I told you! Those things are monsters!" He pointed to the Mesuline who was now securely tucked against your chest. She trembled, buried her face against you and held on so tightly it made you wince.

"You are mistaken," a voice said and the water fluttered, every droplet alight with energy it couldn't bear. "I am the monster you seek."

Through bleary, rain-blinded eyes, you watched the figure descend before the man and, when it was close enough, you recognized its face.

Neuvillette.

Beads of water lept from the basin to reach him like hands pawing to touch even a thread of their so-called God. You could sense the energy in the shallow pool, feel it in every drop of rain that cascaded across your face but none of it touched Neuvillette. He remained - unaffected.

"Iudex ..." the man said, his voice barely audible even in the strange quiet. Senses returning to him, he scrambled to a low, deep bow and splayed his hands beneath Neuvillette's hovering feet. "Monsieur, please, this is all just a terrible mistake."

"Have the rules of Order been unclear to you?"

"I - I don't understand."

"Your crime has been witnessed by many and yet, you stand before me, denying all accusations?"

"P-Please, Monsieur. T-they attacked me, I was just defending myself."

"It appears communication with the accused is going poorly. I shall afford you one final chance before I render judgment."

"Judgement? What-you can't!" The man stood and came up to Neuvillette's hips. "You may be the Iudex, but you can't sentence me! I deserve to be tried. You'll see - you'll see then it was all a mistake."

Neuvillette glanced your way, his eyes narrowing. When he looked back at the man, all the color drained from his face. "By order of -"

"No, wait! Please!" The man raised his hands and Neuvillette did the same.

"I render you, guilty." Power boiled below the surface and set the world rumbling. "Bow your head, and be sanctified," Neuvillette said and with his judgment, a pillar of water burst from below and consumed the man until there was nothing left.

When the waters receded, Neuvillette made his way to you. Each step steady, measured, undisturbing of the waters beneath him. He knelt at your side, laid one hand on your forehead and another on the trembling Melusine who hid further against your body.

"Neu --" you said, pain taking your voice.

"I am here," he hummed and you fell away like the tide.

---

When you awoke, you found yourself surrounded by lapping silk. Cool fabric warmed by your body heat. It hurt to lift yourself up, but only slightly. It seemed your mind remembered the pain of the day before while your body didn't. You touched your chin but it felt normal.

"I see you are awake," a voice echoed in the room but you couldn't see them. Giant rods on each corner of the bed held up a royal curtain that obscured your vision.

You were tempted to slip free from the sheets when the pitter-patter of feet held you in place and from the nothing several Melusines rushed to greet you. Each was more excited than the last. They swarmed you with thanks and laughter, sweeping you up in their joyous voices.

Another being appeared near the edge of the bed, except his presence made you go still. He moved gracefully to sit beside you and instinctually you moved so he had more room. He noticed.

Neuvillette frowned. "I have frightened you," he said, sorrowful as dropped his gaze.

"What? No, I'm not -" You reached for him then pulled back at the last minute. He noticed. "I'm not afraid of you. I swear."

He contemplated your reply for what felt like forever before nodding in acceptance. "I hope you do not mind the accommodations. I had little place else to take you."

You tried to not think about it too much. It was almost certain this was - as you now suspected - his room. "It's fine," you replied and hoped the shadows didn't betray the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I am pleased to hear." Neuvillette smiled and let his eyes drift to the Mesulines surrounding you. "I believe thanks are in order."

"You're the one who saved me though."

"That may be true, yet it was you who protected the Mesulines, was it not?"

Your palm went flush against one of their backs. You didn't think much at the time, it was just - "It was the only thing to do."

"Indeed," he said, his eyes soft, kind, and fixed on your own. You dropped them under the pressure only for your heart to stop when his hand cupped your chin so he could look at you again. "I am grateful."

You looked at him, tried to breathe, tried to force words - any words - through your throat but all you could manage were several shallow nods to which he responded by running his finger across your cheek - leaving you drowning.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuv #post elixir #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x gn reader #neuvillette x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in.

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night.

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations.

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold.

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused.

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone.

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter.

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled.

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white.

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here.

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress.

Wonderful.

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall.

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that.

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean.

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head.

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes.

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on.

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react?

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes.

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door.

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do.

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore.

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood.

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot.

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours. You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you.

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up.

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around.

Fuck.

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words.

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show.

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it.

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide.

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier.

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul.

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you.

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise.

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here.

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up.

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again.

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you.

And you still feel terrible.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, just as quietly.

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away.

“My neighbor said he c—”

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you.

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing.

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand.

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it.

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that.

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off.

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become.

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself.

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.”

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy.

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff.

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice.

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment.

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words.

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him.

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates.

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it.

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise.

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh.

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth.

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him.

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do.

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it.

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh.

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head.

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded.

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it.

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good.

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely.

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile.

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips.

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find.

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty.

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous.

“You can come in,” you call.

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today.

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair.

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod.

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point.

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned.

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes.

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended.

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now.

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh.

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown.

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it.

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you.

He just washes your hair.

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

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

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kinktober : oct 22nd

simon riley x pillow humping

simon riley was never a man of many words — until pleasure was involved of course, but even then he’d always start off quiet, and the more depraved things became, the more he’d run his mouth.

it had been a lazy and dreamlike morning, the two of you laying in your bed half asleep for way longer than you should have. you were drained, and sore after the night he’d brought upon you — fucking you within an inch of your life, and yet you still wanted more. his large figure took up the bed beside you, laying on his front with his strong arms clutching the delicate pink pillow from your bed beneath his head. you suck on your bottom lip sleepily, swooning at how he could lay there sleeping so casually and tranquil as if he hadn’t held your thighs up by your head and made you squelch around his thickness for hours the night before. a grown man like him, it was no big deal. the thought of him being so nonchalant towards destroying your cunt had you aching, wetness yet again pooling between your legs.

had it always been this easy? were you ovulating or something?

you stare at him in sort of a guilty and doe eyed way as you slide your hand down to the cotton panties he’d slipped on your half awake form for some decency after he’d finished with you, feeling your juices start to warm your folds. you feel around, wincing at how sensitive your clit still was and almost whimpering in pain when you go to explore your sore hole, needing to give it a break.

you huff in a spoiled kind of way at the ceiling, in disbelief at yourself. he’d really dicked you down within an inch of your life, and you’d still craved more merely the morning after? you were sure he’d tsk and ask you the same. or would he? was he the type to continue berating and degrading you with nasty language even in the unforgiving, bright light of morning? or would he go back to his usual simon ways, playing his cards close to his chest?

you look at him again, soundly sleeping. you can’t wake him up, no — he’s probably totally spent, being older than you and such it might not be as easy to just spring his cock back up at the drop of a hat. plus, simon never slept. you knew he needed this. you bite back a cocky and impish grin at the fact your pussy had clearly knocked him the fuck out. your eyes run over his strong arms, and again the pillow beneath it before you’re struck with an idea.

you slowly sit up a little, keeping your eyes on him when the bed makes the slightest sound — not wanting to wake him. you take the warm pillow that was beneath your head, and fold it — doing your best to be quiet in your attempts to straddle it. you think of facing him, so that you can look at him, but you’re too ashamed — face feeling hot as you start to grind your cotton covered cunt over the pillow.

you wince, the sensitivity and wetness easing you along more than you might have expected. you roll your hips, trying to find the right angle and lower yourself onto your belly, cheek buried into the mattress, your feet resting where your pillow once was as you stuff your hands beneath the pillow, working your hips in little circles.

you find the spot, the material folding and rippling in a way against your panties that made the friction drive you wild, and you let out a sleepy but needy whimper. what was once you worried about waking simon and feeling humiliated, was now a lack of care all together, growing louder when you heard your wetness inside your panties, folds audibly parting at your grinding movement.

you oddly didn’t care when you hear simon stir and assumably stretch behind you, only letting out a shy and embarrassed whine when he kindly lays a hand on the back of your thigh, stroking the meat there soothingly.

“mornin’, sweetheart.” his voice is raspier than usual from sleep, and you continue your movements, not wanting to turn your hot cheek around to see him. his rough palm slides up to your ass, giving it a tentative squeeze before his long fingers creep to your underwear, casually but purposefully pulling the crotch of the panties to the side to watch your pussy open and close at your movements, glistening and puffy in the morning light. “fuckin’ell.” he huffs, very quietly.

it’s then you turn your cheek to look back at him shamefully, lips pouted and swollen from all the kissing hours before. he’s got one hand resting behind his head, the other on you. you clench at how good he looks and you’re sure he see’s.

“needy girl, eh? just can’t get enough.” he tsks as imagined, and the tip of his middle finger prods at your entrance. you flinch, with a pained whine and clench all of your lower body, shuddering. “no?” he soothes, stroking your thigh again.

“s’too sore, but just… needed something. feel so needy, dunno what’s wrong with me.” you sound pitiful and he exhales slowly, strong chest collapsing deep before he sits up, eyeing your movements.

“s’alright.” he rasps, gently sliding his two large hands beneath your hips to clutch them, guiding your movements effortlessly now, aiding your grinding motion so that you could do less work. you moan, a loud one — like you were relieved and he nods slowly despite you facing away. “i know.”

he stretches your panties to the side even more until it’s pulled over your ass cheek and stays parted without his help. he then suddenly but gently presses your back down into the bed so that you can no longer move, the pillow beneath you causing you to lay frozen in an arch, presenting to him. “what if i’m gentle.” he’s quiet, and uncharacteristically soft as his pointer and middle finger find your clit from your arched position, rubbing the softest circles he’s capable of. you shudder, letting out a cry but you nod regardless, knowing it was something you needed.

“words, lovie.” he reminds you kindly.

“yes please.” you whisper, spreading your thighs a little more to help him.

“good girl. as much as i’d love to see you cum on your pillow… s’gotta be from me. that’s fair, yeah?” he asks, clear in his tone that he’s genuinely expecting a reply, some reassurance that he’s not being cruel and invasive like he might have been earlier.

you’ve never heard simon use such a kind tone. it was something you’d hope to get used to.

#simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost cod smut #ghost call of duty smut #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #kinktober 2023

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the-odd-shu · 20 days ago

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Hey Hextech, is it gay to cuddle your co-workers?

A continuation of lab shenanigans.

Masterlist

Next part here!

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

(Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

CONTAINS VIKTOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!

There's only one couch in the lab.

There are three desks, four chairs, one whiteboard, boxes upon boxes of chalk, and only one couch.

The couch which Jayce is currently taking a cat nap on and taking up all of the room of. The lab lights are dim, and Jayce looks so comfortable, sprawled out on his back, with his boots still on his feet, whilst his legs hand off the end of the furniture because he's just that fucking tall. He has an arm slung over his eyes despite the low light, and he looks stupidly adorable.

Reader is half tempted to turn right back around and try to find somewhere else to take a power nap. They can't be bothered to lock up their desk, and walk all the way across the academy, and then all the way home to tumble into bed. And their desk is a no no, since hey always wake up with a painful crick in their neck and Viktor's knowing grin taunting them for their bad choices.

The couch looks tempting though... and can they really be bothered to go wandering around campus looking for somewhere comfortable to sleep until their meeting later? The answer is no. No they cannot.

Besides, Jayce finished with the council over three hours ago, so he's had plenty of time for undisturbed rest. And clearly, if he didn't want to share, than he would have put his sizeable salary into finding another couch for the lab already.

Decision made, and sleep tugging at their eyelids, they shrug off their jacket, yank off their boots and carefully sit on the very edge of the couch near Jayce's hip. The worn cushion barely gives under their weight it is so old and devoid of stuffing. How Jayce is deeply asleep on the thing and continues to choose to nap on it since it was brought in, they had no idea.

There's enough room for them to gingerly lay down parallel to Jayce's body on their side. They're so tired, they hardly care. Everything aches. And Viktor isn't around to tease them for essentially 'cuddling' Jayce, which they clearly were NOT! Their back was to the man after all, with the cotton of their shirt barely brushing his jacket sleeve.

If they stayed still, he might not even notice. And they could have their nap and slip away without anyone even-

A sharp inhale of breath at their back has their body stiffening like a deer in headlights. Their tired eyes bug wide, and yet they manage to keep from throwing themselves off of the couch and taking the stupid nap on the hard, cold floor instead. Maybe Jayce won't even notice. Maybe they can pretend to be asleep already.

"You're going to fall off that close to the edge."

And oh fuck... Jayce's voice is deep and slurred from sleep.

Their mind screeches to a hault, when the couch shifts violently, and then an arm is winding over their side to drag them backwards. Jayce does not pull them into his chest, but he does give them enough space to be laying on their side comfortably. He's rolled onto his side too, and has shifted back towards the backrest to create more room. He retracts his arm, and his breath evens out.

Reader's mind spins. Jayce is a touchy kind of guy. Always pressing a hand to their shoulder when commenting on a sketch, or leaning up against their back in the kitchen with a quiet apology when reaching for something in an hoverhead cupboard whilst they're waiting for the kettle to boil.

He does it to Viktor too, so Reader know's it is just Jayce being Jayce.

They fall asleep like that, one hand under their cheek, their back to Jayce with a respectful pinkies worth of space between them.

Of course they wake up tangled together. Jayce's arm somehow around Reader, keeping them from rolling off the edge of the couch. Their head is tucked up under his jaw, and his breaths slowly ghost across their ear. It is the most comfortable they've ever been whilst resting on this couch.

Viktor is at his desk, when they decide enough is enough and they REALLY have to get back to work. Jayce audibly grumbles as they untangle themselves, before rolling towards the backrest and putting his back to the rest of the lab.

Viktor scarcely looks up from his work before offering a simply, "ah, you're awake. When you've finished cuddling, mind helping me out with-?"

Viktor falling asleep at his desk.

Reader and Jayce have been quietly arguing over what angle, they should draw of a new project.

Viktor snores when he sleeps. Soft, barely audible puffs of air that are only really noticable when the debate dies down whilst both sides take a moment to breath and gather their thoughts for another round.

The sound draws both sets of eyes to Viktor's desk. Where he has passed out on his notebook, cheek pressed down against the pages, arms limp at his sides, and his cane leaned up against the desk beside him within arms reach.

Wordlessly, both decide to put a metaphorical pin in the argument, whilst Jayce steps away from Reader's desk and begins unbuttoning his waist coat, which has somehow become the unoffical lab blanket. Not only because Jayce is all to happy to lend it to either of his colleagues, but because it is big and warm and everyone secretly loves waistcoat priviledges.

On quiet footsteps, Jayce crosses the room to drape it over the man's shoulders. He doesn't stir, and the other two get back to their playfully fighting just a tad quieter.

Reader not having the keys to get back into the lab, so they sit down beside the doors in the corridor to wait for Viktor or Jayce to come back. Of course, they fall asleep slumped against the wall, and Viktor and Jayce rock up together to find them. Viktor sighs, very put out.

"If anyone saw this, they'd accuse us of abuse." He mutters to himself, rummaging in his pocket for his keys.

Jayce bends down to rouse reader who was having a surprisingly good nap. They refuse to get up and just curl up tighter.

"Come back in ten minutes." They negotiate sleepily.

And Jayce is torn. They look really comfortable, but they'll certainly be feeling sitting on the floor later, so he's reluctant to just leave them there without a cushion at least. Of course, Viktor is quick to prod him along.

"Come on Jayce!" Viktor prompts. "If they're going to be a brat, treat them like a brat."

Which Jayce interprets as scooping Reader up into his arms instead of leaving them out in the hall with the lab door left unlocked.

Of course Reader wakes up immediately. Demanding to be put down, and squirming, Jayce just grins and hauls them inside whilst Viktor shakes his head at their stupid display. Jayce then unceremoniously dumping reader on the couch, and as tradition at this point, shrugs off his jacket to throw at their head.

"We should probably invest in a blanket." Reader grumbles, spreading the jacket over them as best they can before snuggling down.

Viktor deadpans. Somehow, he doesn't think the sentiment will stick for long. Not with his own secret love of waking up wrapped in Jayce's waistcoat, and not with Reader's visible relaxing form under the weight of the jacket, and not with the stupidly soft look Jayce is looking down at them with.

Reader who drags Jayce down by his shirt collar or the lapels of his waistcoat to press a kiss to his forehead.

Reader who exclusively kisses Viktor's moles. As a rule they kiss both of them in farewell after a long day. On under his eye, and the other above the corner of his lip.

Reader who then has to go back to Jayce to bestow him with his second kiss because otherwise he pouts and demands that you play fair.

They're not dating yet...

Lying in Jayce's bed after a rare evening of leaving the lab early. Sitting elbow to elbow up against the pillows, all three of them are reading books, and have changed into their night wear, with Jayce in the middle and Reader and Viktor on either side. Mainly because Jayce tends to roll a lot and will roll OFF the bed if given the chance, and Viktor needs easy access to his cane or brace at all times.

It is Reader who breaks the silence without looking up from their book. "Would you guys still love me if I were a worm?"

They feel two sets of judgemental eyes turn to zero in on them. So they play it cool and neatly turn a page. Their partners exchange confused looks.

"If it were humanly possible," Jayce started slowly, "maybe?"

"Absolutely not." Viktor firmly added.

Reader sets down their book offended. "Maybe?" They parrot back to Jayce, and then turn on Viktor who meets their gaze with a frown. "Flat out no!? Do you two even love me?"

"Of course." Viktor says calmly, "but if you happened to turn into a worm, I would not be best suited to offer you a comfortably, inhabitable environment, what with my long work hours and dangerous research. Therefore, it would be kinder to set your worm-self free, and let us both move on with our lives."

Reader stares back at him in betrayal.

"So you don't love me."

Viktor rolls his eyes at their dramatics.

Jayce tries to soothe them. "Well, look at it this way, it won't happen, so you won't have to worry about it-"

"Jayce, you both work with MAGIC!" Reader points out. "You have somehow turned magic into a power supply. There is a whole rune dictionary, and thousands of untold combinations that might very well turn the right candidate into a worm."

Jayce is at a loss for words.

Viktor sits back against his pillow and returns his attention to his book, "I still stand by my earlier statement."

Reader tsks and returns to their book to. "For the record, I'd build you both mud homes and take you everywhere with me. It wouldn't matter if you looked different, because you'd still be you deep down."

Jayce looks suddenly touched, and Viktor's hard expression softens a little.

"That is, surprisingly sweet, for such a weird conversation." The latter mutters, whilst Jayce leans in to land a firm kiss to Reader's forehead.

BONUS AND SPOILER FOR SEASON 2:

For some reason, Jayce dragged Reader down into the Hexgate basement before the final fight, getting them to help him pull out all the batteries from the core whilst shit goes down on the surface.

And of course, final form Viktor comes to find them in all his robed, mysterious glory.

Jayce and Viktor having a fun little back and forth.

Reader: looking at final form Viktor with wide eyes.

Reader: flushing under his intense golden gaze and ducking their head, fighting tooth and nail to keep from tucking their hair behind their ear like a school girl with a crush.

Final form Viktor: visibly amused, as he always was in the lab whenever he thought they were being stupid.

Jayce with horror in his voice as he follows Viktor's gaze to Reader: "No! Please tell me you're not thinking what I know you're thinking!"

Reader with visible guilt as they throw up both hands and motion to all of Viktor's tall, god-like glory: "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? HE'S HOT, AND HE'S VIKTOR! AND I AM MERELY A MORTAL!"

Jayce: "He is trying to kill us!"

Reader: "So? He looks hot doing it!"

Jayce: "Just focus! Please?!"

Reader: "Then tell him to conceal his itty bitty waist. I cannot focus right now, Jayce!"

Viktor: tilting his head as an unnatural angle with fondness in his voice. "It is refreshing to find that you still find my form appealing, even after such unnatural change."

Jayce just watching on in dismay: ...

Reader turning on him: "I TOLD you I'd still love you both if you turned into worms."

Viktor snorts in the background, whilst Jayce goes through the five stages of grief. He settles on dismay and points his corrupted hammer at Viktor's new form: "THAT is some sort of Eldritch being. THAT is VERY different to a fucking WORM, Y/n!"

Next part here!

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

Text

Breathe

Summary: Astarion is more than eager to show you the perks of not breathing.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Face riding/sitting. Praise kink. Precum. Cumplay (if you squint). Masturbation.

Word count: 1.6k

It was the cold press of lips along the nape of your neck that gradually raised you from your sleep.

“Astarion…”

The arm around your waist pulled you in closer, and you shuddered at the feel of his usually cool skin now warm from your own body heat.

He began trailing lingering kisses along your shoulder as his hand travelled upwards until his thumb brushed the underside of one breast.

“I’m sleepy…” you grumbled, burying your face in the soft pillow.

“I’ll wake you up.”

And he meant every word.

A dedicated lover such as Astarion would always find a way to bestow pleasure upon you whenever possible.

“You know….there’s perks to not breathing.”

You let out a yawn. “Is that so?”

He hummed, tracing the area around your nipple without quite touching it, effectively having your body yearn for more.

The faintest pressure against your backside was enough to note that his cock was beginning to harden.

Neither of you ever bothered wearing clothes to bed as it would just be a nuisance whenever lust decided to strike.

“And what makes you say that?” you mumbled.

Slowly but surely, he hardened your nipple with the pad of his thumb, always eager to showcase just how masterful he could be with his fingers.

“Sit on my face.”

That remark immediately had your eyes open and you turned your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, do not act so coy, darling,” he cooed with a click of his tongue, giving your nipple a teasing squeeze. “You do know I adore tasting you in more ways than one.”

That you did, but you had yet to indulge in his suggestion.

Instinctively, you bucked your hips into him, earning a quick hiss as his cock began to drip precum.

“Go on… sit on my face.”

There was a hint of despair in his voice that did wonders to your ego and to the growing swell in between your folds.

You pushed yourself to sit before giving his lips a quick peck, which drew a devious smile from him.

“I don’t want to hurt you…” you said hesitantly.

He patted your thigh lovingly. “Darling, the only pain you can inflict on me is from not allowing me to eat you out.”

Heat rushed to your face in record time.

As always, Astarion had a gift for words, especially when it came to seduction.

He rolled onto his back, giving your backside a light squeeze and nudging you forward.

Oh.

You felt the familiar throb down below provide enough motivation for you to slowly shift along the mattress and settle each leg on either side of his head, gripping the headboard for support.

One glance down and you saw him give you an encouraging smile.

It was unjust how handsome he was…

And you still feared it might be too much…

“Are you sure about this?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, and hooked both arms around your thighs, quickly yanking you down until his cool tongue was pressed flat against your folds.

You immediately let out a gasp as his nose settled against the growing swell, providing a delicious friction that had you nearly losing balance until you leaned forward against the wooden headboard.

Gods above…

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance briefly before he slowly dragged it along your folds and closed his lips around your swell.

That nearly took your breath away and you could stop yourself from clenching desperately around nothing as he suckled softly on you.

It was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from grinding down and fully riding his face, and you were sure your knees would cramp eventually if you kept resisting his pull.

Astarion began sucking harder, his grip on your thighs tightened and you could hear an increasing disapproving growl from him.

Startled, you lifted your hips at once, glancing down at his handsome handsome, your wetness coating his nose and lips and chin.

A glorious sight, indeed.

“Was it too much?”

He scowled. Deeply.

“I told you to sit on my face, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but…”

Oh, he wasn’t amused at all.

“Then don’t hold back. Please.”

There was something truly riveting about Astarion pleading you to let him please you, that never failed to make your heart skip several beats.

You slowly lowered yourself, watching his eyes flutter shut as you settled against his mouth once again.

This time, you earned a content rumble from him, his tongue eagerly lapping at your wetness and the pressure of his nose against you already testing your sanity.

Lunging forward, you gripped the headboard, resting your face against your arms as a string of moans began to spill from your mouth.

With each swipe of his tongue… every nudge of his nose and all the groans that reverberated across his lips against your swell.

He felt divine and you chose to fully cave in, rolling your hips and occasionally glancing down to stare at the gorgeous man underneath you that so skillfully worshipped every single inch of your body.

“Gods…” you kept on groaning from time to time whenever he caught a hold of you again and hungrily began to suckle.

It was proving to be a struggle just keeping your eyes open to witness your wetness spread along his skin.

As aroused as you were, you still tried your best to ride him slowly, yearning for more friction, but it wasn’t until you brought one hand down to grip his unruly curls that he groaned harder against you, one of his arms dropping from your thigh.

Driven by curiosity and through the near-blinding haze of lust, you looked over your shoulder only to see his hand firmly closing around his cock.

A deep moan escaped your lips at the obscene amount of precum that dripped from the tip in a single thick string pooling on his lower abdomen.

You felt him open his mouth, his fangs prodding teasingly against your skin. For a moment, you feared your rolling hips might cause him to accidentally nip you, but you needn’t worry.

Astarion was an attentive lover who excelled at prioritising pleasure above all else. Both his and yours.

Your pleasure was his.

His pleasure was your.

And you were now completely unable to look away from the way he quickly matched the rhythm in which he stroked his cock with that of his tongue delving past your entrance.

“Astarion… go easy…” you gasped, closing your fingers around his soft curls as you simultaneously held on for dear life with a fierce grip on the headboard.

But he had no intention of slowing down and that was evident from how deep he was willing to go inside you, nose firmly pressed against between your folds.

The lewd sounds of him slurping your wetness mixed with those that he drew with each stroke around his cock began to echo throughout the room, further pushing you closer to your peak.

It utterly baffled you that he could be so turned on from having you in this position, but it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how he never held back showering you in devotion and how much your responses would stroke his ego.

Precum dribbled along his length and down to his hand, small droplets dangling from it as he increased the pace, his own hips rhythmically lifting from the mattress as he fucked his own hand.

Feeling the ever-growing coil rise in your lower abdomen, you promptly chased after your high by grinding against him even more vigorously. Astarion responded to your newfound pace with a groan, sliding his tongue out and focusing his entire attention precisely where he should.

Such a devoted lover…

As soon as his hips wrapped around your swell, you bucked your hips further against him, breaking into a strained sob as you leaned forward to recover the balance he had knocked out of your body with his skillful mouth.

Incoherent words erupted from deep within you as you rode his face, desperate to reach that high only he could deliver.

With a few more suckles, your vision began to blur as you felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash down on you, now gripping strands of his hair in fists with both hands, stilling abruptly as your spasming thighs squeezed around his face.

“You’re so good…” you moaned, knowing fully well how much he adored your praise.

That was also what eventually drove him to reach his own peak, as the arm around your thigh began to tighten and his lips let go of your so his mouth could drop open in a muffled growl.

With wobbly legs and laboured breaths, you dropped to the side just so you could witness him riding out his own wave of bliss.

His face was completely soaked in your wetness, which streamed down his cheeks and his chin and neck.

Astarion always looked absolutely ethereal whilst coming undone, and you weren’t able to tear your eyes away from the amount of come that he kept squeezing from the tip with an iron-tight grip.

You shifted closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his wet cheek as he cried out your name.

“You did so good…” you kept on repeating in between kisses before he hungrily took your lips in his, muffling his own groans.

You hadn’t realised your hand had moved to his chest until you felt a few strings of his spend coating your skin, but you couldn’t care less.

Tasting yourself in him drew an approving moan from you and he slowly broke the kiss, his eyelids heavy with the aftermath of lust.

“I reckon we should indulge in this more often.”

You chuckled, swiping your tongue along his lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this famished…”

He gripped your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss before parting again. “Is that a challenge, darling?”

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader

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