#So he moved the giant curtains | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violetflowerswrites · 8 months ago

Text

Sweet Relief

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: servant/master, possession, religious-ish themes, dom/sub, sex pollen, cockwarming, oral (female receiving), pain/discipline, fingering, p in v sex, language, 18+

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I’m rewatching the Marvel movies in order and my god. I forgot how absolutely diabolical and adorable young Loki is! I was inspired to make this VERY smutty, all-porn-no-plot fic. Takes place before the events of Thor 1. Hope you enjoy my first Loki fic!

Tags: @foxherder @lovingchoices14

The long linen fabric of your healer’s tunic brushed against the cold marble floor as you rushed past. Your steps were gentle and quick, trying to make next to no sound as you swept past the tall columns, and arched ceilings of the royal halls. Finally outside the gilded wood of the giant doors to his bed chambers, your breath seemed to stall in your lungs.

This simply was not done. You were approached, never doing the approaching yourself. Improper didn’t even begin to describe what you were doing.

Your gentle knock was virtually silent the first time, so you steeled yourself and tried again.

“Identify yourself.”

A lazy voice called from within, but his tone was laced with an undeniable authority.

You spoke your name, placed your title in front of it.

Healer.

You weren’t a lady, a warrior—hell, you weren’t even nobility.

You belonged to a class of healers in Asgardian society. Seen as a type of servant, but respected nonetheless. To serve in the court meant you had a sizable talent for basic magic, and for spiritual healing.

But, if you were a woman in this position, it also meant you were a glorified prostitute.

You and your healer sisters before you have served in the healing room for centuries, servicing warriors, tending to their injuries after battle. But Asgard has long been in a season of peace, so the healers needed to fill another role.

Asgard was now a land of paradise, a land of plenty. That is, plenty of food, drink, beauty, wealth, and of course, plenty of sex. The nobility needed a way to make this discreet. After all, the royal court could hardly be seen having frivolous dalliances with just anyone. They needed to marry for alliance, for power, and for proper bloodlines, of course.

That’s where the healers came in. Come to the healing room for a sleeping draught, or an ointment for a sore shoulder, and get a service on top of it. You and your sisters were carefully trained in the ways of pleasure, and secrecy.

But, here you were, in front of your Lord’s chambers, breaking every rule and propriety ingrained in you since you first worked in the court as a young girl.

“Enter.” He commanded.

With shaky hands, you pushed the heavy bedroom doors open with your slender muscles.

The sight was grand, and a bit unexpected. Thick, dark green drapes covered the walls from ceiling to floor, and deep cherry wood bookshelves lined an entire side of the bedroom. A fireplace and candles were lit, making the chambers seem warm, yet a tinge ominous. A sharp contrast to the golden pearly halls of the rest of Asgard’s royal chambers.

Loki sat at a massive wooden desk, cleaved from the center of an oak tree, and absolutely littered with a number of bottles and vials, books and scrolls. A lone curtain was left half open, letting in what little light was left of the setting summer sun.

He addressed you disinterestedly, not even bothering to lift his head up from his book.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Healer?” Loki called out quietly across the vast room.

Your back was pressed up against the door, unable to get your feet to move. Your body disobeyed what your mind wanted, forgetting to curtsey or even duck your head. Instead, your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Loki took a beat in your silence and chuckled lowly to himself.

“I must say, this is quite unexpected, and against the rules I might add.”

Amusement glittered in his eyes at the mention of breaking the rules.

After all, he was the God of Mischief. Breaking the rules was his bread and butter.

Loki finally gazed up and took you in more carefully, wondering why a healer such as yourself would dare incur the wrath of your order by entering a nobleman’s chambers without permission, let alone the prince of Asgard.

Second prince of Asgard, but a prince nonetheless.

Then he noticed you, really noticed you.

He took in your flushed face, the way you absentmindedly kept rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you hugged yourself, and your thighs pressing your legs together to seek any sort of relief you could.

Even from across the room, Loki’s god-eyes could see the steady thrumming of the vein on your neck, moving rapidly with your heartbeat. He wanted to taste your skin and feel your pulse under his hot tongue.

Loki was a keen observer. Knowing how to read body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice was more important than any magical mischief he could get up to. Reading people was enough to get him most things that he wanted in life.

And right now, he decided he wanted you.

“You may approach, Healer.”

As if the spell had been broken, you swallowed to wet your dry throat and stepped towards the prince.

“How did you get past the guards?” Loki questioned.

“I said you needed a sleeping draught. You’ve been having trouble falling asleep for the past few days.” Your voice came out squeaky and feeble, a far cry from your usual tone.

Loki pursed his lips. This was not untrue.

“Leave it here.” He gestured casually to the desk and went back to his reading, while keeping half an eye on you.

Your trembling hands set down the small bottle of liquid with a bit of a clatter, and you quickly stepped back, just a few feet from where Loki sat.

“There’s something else.” Loki murmured lowly, eyes still flicking over the pages.

“Yes.” You breathed out.

Before you could begin to state your wild request, Loki said something else that you didn’t expect.

“I know you.”

You flitted your eyes up at his handsome face, and was startled by his piercing blue gaze. Quickly, you looked down at your feet.

The younger prince of Asgard had long since caught your eye. Every time he returned from battle you snatched the opportunity to treat him.

Rumor had it that he rarely asked for a healer's services, even when he was at the peak of adolescence. Some said he had a taste for the other sex. Others said he found his pleasure off-planet.

Whereas Thor openly indulged in excess, including women, drink, and violence, Loki was careful, calculated, and purposeful in all his actions. His mysterious, unreadable nature only served to make him more attractive to you.

“Yes, m’Lord. I have treated your injuries before, alongside other sisters.”

“You sang to me.”

You gasped, shocked that he remembered. It was a particularly gruesome battle and Loki was crushed badly in the side. You and your sisters forced him into a spell-induced sleep so that you could bind his broken bones. The Queen was distraught and ordered a round-the-clock watch to ensure he was healing well. You ended up on night watch, singing lullabies when he fought demons in his sleep.

“I did not know you heard me, m’ Lord.” You whispered, the heat inside of you coming out in waves off your hot skin.

“Speak freely. What is it that you request of me?” Loki schooled his tone to sound detached, but you could hear the curiosity in his words.

Sucking in a breath, you relayed a stuttered story of how a nobleman asked the healers to create a love potion that would increase ones libido, but it would only work against someone they were attracted to. Eventually, they would be like a dog in heat, and could only be relieved by intense pleasuring from a potential lover.

And you were the unlucky soul who got “volunteered” to take the experimental potion on a test run.

Although they tried their utmost, your sisters were unable to bring you relief and now, a few hours later, you sought after your long-time crush, Loki.

Hoping he’d do something to help relieve you of your suffering.

Although what, you didn’t dare dream of.

Ashamed, you bowed your head, looking at the marble floor and wishing a hole would open up and sink you into the dark waters below your realm.

At best, he’d let you go back to the healing room and never speak of this again. At worst, he’d have you arrested and banished for attempting such a lecherous act against a prince of Asgard.

“Sit.”

Your head jerked up, and you stared. Loki wasn’t looking at you though, he was back to his book, but his palm patted his muscular thigh.

Gods, was he asking you to sit in his lap?

You slowly brought a leg over his until your core straddled his hips. His cool body temperature immediately soothed your hot one, and you carefully brought your arms to clasp behind his neck.

Moving quickly before he changed his mind, you immediately put your training to use.

“Would my Lord like a massage?” You offered quietly.

“Yes, darling, that would be lovely.” Loki agreed nonchalantly, again, eyes still glued to his book.

Your strong fingers squeezed the tight knots on Loki’s shoulders, feeling the firm, yet lean muscles there. You pulled up his flesh, pressing deeply until the tension melted away in your hands.

Moving upwards, you combed your fingers through his jet-black hair, massaging his scalp, and temples.

The man gave no signs at all that he was affected by your touch, or by having an attractive young woman in his lap.

But then, he turned, exposing a pale neck underneath the raised leather collar of his garments. You took that as an invitation to press your lips to his smooth skin. Loki could feel your warm breath exhale in a contented sigh as your thumbs continued to knead circles, followed by soft kisses all over his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear.

Even with your face pressed to his, you almost missed what he whispered next.

“Warm my cock for me, dearest.”

An uncontrollable whimper escaped from your lips at his dirty words.

To be fully honest, you didn’t know how far Loki was going to let you take this. And the answer seemed to be…

All the way.

You pulled off your undergarments and undid the buttons of his leather trousers. His member was already half-erect, but it came to life fully as you gently rubbed him in both of your warm hands.

Your head fell onto his shoulder, and you could feel the breath catch in his chest as his cock breached your tight entrance.

Your eyes squeezed shut immediately at the contact, having not loosened your sensitive core beforehand, and Loki was large. His member wasn’t the thickest you’ve ever had, but it was slender, and long.

Slowly, carefully, you sank down, half-way at first, taking a pause to adjust, then further in until your ass rested on his lap once again.

The tip of his cock pushed up against your cervix, and you’ve never felt more full in your life.

Relaxing, you pressed your chest to his, leaning in as your core wrapped its hot, moist flesh around him. Loki for his part, was completely silent, reaching his arms behind your back to continue flipping through his book.

“What are you reading?” You murmur, content to just be filled for the time being. The initial stage of insatiable desire had been temporarily slaked by simply having his length inside of you.

“A spell-book on illusion magic. Could be useful for battle, or tricking my brother.” A soft chuckle rumbled through his body, the vibrations stimulating your center immediately.

You moaned, losing yourself in pleasure, but Loki shushed you gently.

“Be a good girl and sit quietly. I want to finish this section.”

So you did. After having spent the past few hours in heat, having any kind of relief now was enough to lull you into a daze. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire, the crinkle of pages of Loki’s book, and your quiet breath.

Every so often, he would shift his weight and it would push his cock in a different part of your core. You bit your lip each time to keep from making any noise, but the wetness that leaked from your pussy betrayed your arousal. You were sure that Loki’s thighs would be soaked by the time he finished reading.

Abruptly, Loki snapped his book shut with a bang. You flinched automatically at the loud sound.

“That’s enough, my dear.” He stated with finality.

You gingerly pulled yourself off, his still-hard member slipping out of your core, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. Legs wobbly from sitting straddled wide for so long, you tried your best to look put together, smoothing down your tunic, and taking a tentative step back.

“My Lord, thank you for—“ you attempted a statement of propriety, assuming that you were being dismissed.

Wordlessly, Loki grabbed you roughly by the neck and hauled you forward, an arm pulling your hips against his as he crushed you with a kiss.

Your body melted into his immediately, overwhelmed by the pressure of his lips against yours, his tongue forcing his way into your mouth, and —gods was that teeth?—nipping at your lower lip. You had no idea that a kiss could be so utterly demanding and violent.

Loki wasn’t just kissing you.

He was devouring you.

“It’s time for some discipline, healer. Do you know what a bad girl you’ve been tonight?” Loki growled against your neck, biting you not quite so gently there.

“No, tell me m’ Lord.” The response breathed out through bruised lips. Your pupils were blown out with lust and so were his.

“No? Then, I’ll help you count each disobedience.”

With that, Loki pulled your tunic and shift off, leaving you completely exposed before him.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, while licking his lips.

Roughly, he wrenched your arm and pulled you towards his generous bed, throwing you down the middle of the lush mattress.

Before you had a chance to sit up, he flipped you onto your stomach and smacked a hard slap to your ass.

“Fuck!” The expletive exploded out of you at the sharp sting.

“Number one: deceiving the guards.”

Another slap hit your other ass cheek.

“Number two: sneaking into the royal chambers.”

His hand met your bottom again.

“Number three: sneaking into my bedroom, a prince of Asgard no less.”

Another hit. The skin of your ass was already inflamed pink with the first few smacks.

Loki watched the color bloom before slowly raking his icy-blue eyes across your body. A sheen of sweat had broken out along your back and your face was buried in the sheets.

Loki’s never hurt a girl in the bedroom before, but seeing the redness of your ass, and feeling the tingling remnants of each slap on his own hand. Well, that awoke something sinister in his heart, and his loins.

“Number four: you were a fool to take the love potion. You are supposed to be a healer, not a witch.”

This next blow from Loki was even stronger than the last. The contact with your tender skin echoed off the high ceiling of his bedroom.

“Hells—Loki you are going to leave a mark!” The pain had you gritting your teeth, and temporarily forgetting your manners.

Hearing his name roll off your tongue made him laugh with delight. Who knew he would have so much fun punishing a troublesome little girl like you?

He leaned forward, pressing his erection into the swell of your ass, and spoke lowly into your ear.

“My darling, when I’m done with you, your body will be marked permanently.”

The threat made you shut your mouth and turn your burning face away from his, speechless.

“Number five: you were a fool to seek out me for relief.”

The final hit was the most painful. Loki lifted both of his hands and brought them down with so much force that you let out a scream of shock, pain, and pleasure all at once.

He immediately squeezed your pliant flesh in his palms, massaging the slap-warmed skin there.

After a moment of silence, he released his touch altogether and sat back on the bed, watching you.

Cautiously, you crawled up on your hands and knees and sat up, using your arms to hold up your weight rather than sitting on your tender bottom.

He studied your face in quiet contemplation as he watched a mixture of emotions course through you.

Pain, of course.

A bit of fear.

Apprehension, understandably.

But as you drew in shaky breaths, staring back at him, he saw what he was hoping for.

Attraction. Lust. Arousal. Greed.

Even after all of that, you still wanted him. Hells, even without the potion coursing through your veins you would have still wanted to fuck him.

The dominant, torturous streak was a surprise, but you never knew what Loki was capable of, to begin with.

Everything was a surprise with him.

And yet, you craved so much more.

Suddenly gentle, Loki guided you backwards until your head hit his soft pillows.

He settled in between your legs, prying them apart until his face was inches away from your puffy inner lips.

“How did that feel, my dear?” He pressed kisses against your inner thighs, loving how smooth and soft your skin was.

“It hurt.” You ground out, indignance lacing your tone, trying not to show how anything Loki did to you felt good.

Better than good. He was better than any nobleman you’ve ever had to service before. Sex with them was vanilla, predictable. Loki was anything but.

“Ah, but you liked it. Didn’t you, sweet girl?” He paused and looked up at you with those baby blues.

Underneath his steady gaze, you knew there was no point in lying. Loki could see through you in a heartbeat.

“Yes. It felt good.” You confessed.

Tutting with that silver tongue of his, endearments and praise continued to pour out of that sly mouth.

And kisses. Hot, wet, soft kisses to every part of your inner thighs, your mound, your puffy pussy lips.

“You naughty girl. Entering my chambers, asking me to give you relief.”

He pressed his lips to you.

“Sitting on my cock, letting me fill up that tight cunt of yours.”

A regal nose brushed against your slit, dragging wetness up your core.

“Enjoying pain with your pleasure. Letting me ravage your body. You’re a temptress, my sweet.”

A deep inhale. Gods, Loki was breathing in your sex right in front of you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your nails digging into your palms.

“Did you know, darling, that I could smell you the second you entered my chambers?” He exhaled, warm air tickling the moisture leaking out of you.

You didn’t dare reply, knowing that all that could come out of you now would be whines of lust.

“You, my dear, are ripe.”

With that, Loki dove head first into your cunt, licking and sucking like you were his favorite dessert.

The potion made your pussy swollen and sensitive, so everything he did felt ten times more pleasurable than anything your sisters tried.

Your hands gripped his wide shoulders and your knees fell apart as he ate you out.

“Loki—my Lord, I, I can’t!” You stammered out, head falling back as you enjoyed his worship of your pussy.

“Cat got your tongue, dear?” Loki joked, before taking your clit in between his perfect teeth.

“Fuck!” You positively screamed, which only made Loki double down.

Finally, he let go and you slowly loosened your grip, not realizing that you had been knuckle deep in his beautiful hair, tugging it, tangling it in your fingers. You saw pink half moons littered on the pale skin of his neck and face, evidence of your nails digging into his flesh.

Taking a beat to breathe, you smoothed his locks down on his head.

“Did I hurt you?” You inquired, feeling ashamed that you had lost yourself so completely in your lust.

“Yes. But I liked it, dearest. You can hurt me as much as you want to. Just as long as I can do the same.”

The dirty confession made your heart stutter in your chest, eyes wide. Seeing your expression, Loki laughed aloud, the sound blessing your ears.

He crawled up your body now, straightening your legs.

“Let’s see how ready you are for me, hmm?” Loki inserted one finger, then another into your pussy.

“Gods! That feels—!” You whined.

“Good, isn't it?” Loki finished for you. “Now, what about…here?”

He curled his digits upwards and put delicious pressure onto your spongy inner center.

Waves of stimulation shot through your limbs as your voice cried out in broken moans.

“Your knees are trembling, sweet girl.” Loki observed with amusement.

Indeed they were, and they continued to shake uncontrollably as Loki clamped down even harder, his fingers thrusting now.

“I-I can’t help it!” You cried out again, as Loki kissed your breasts, his hot mouth finding purchase on an erect nipple.

Your hands gripped his wrist and he couldn’t tell if you were trying to pull his hand out, or push it in deeper.

Regardless, he ground his palm against your clit, scissoring his digits inside of you, stretching you.

Preparing you.

“Oh my—I’m gonna cum!” You screamed out. Loki had already made you cum a few times. First, when his cock filled you up as you were sitting on his lap. Second, when he bit down on your clit.

And now, with his skilled fingers, he was making your pussy spasm and weep under his touch.

The orgasm was powerful, your whole body jerking up against his. With his free hand, Loki held you down, enjoying the wild ride.

Finally, as you relaxed, Loki released you and sat back. His forehead dappled with sweat, and his own breath coming in hard.

You couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Loki, your prince, was pleasuring, no—worshiping your body like it was his personal gift from Valhalla. He made you feel pleasure at heights you didn’t know existed. Somehow, he simply knew your body even though this was the first time he had ever touched you.

Lost in post-orgasm bliss, your eyes lazily traveled down to his still clothed erection, fighting to get out of his trousers. A thought crossed your mind.

“My Lord, can I undress you?” You murmured, locking eyes with him.

Loki didn’t reply, instead, he simply watched your naked body approach his clothed one as you slowly snaked your hands up his torso. You found each flap, each button, and slowly undid it all as his garments fell down in pieces on the bed.

You pulled his pants off his long legs, and his cock bounced up to greet you. With a gasp of joy, you pressed a soft kiss to his member and continued your kisses up the toned flesh of his chest until you got to his lips.

The action was intimate, like what lovers would do. And Loki let you touch him, admire him, without a word.

In the last bit of light of sunset, Loki’s skin glowed golden orange. He shone like the god he is.

“Beautiful.” You whispered in awe.

An arrogant smile curved along his face and he cradled a hand along the back of your head. He pressed a long, sensual kiss to your warm mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” He murmured the dirty words against your smiling lips.

Stalking over you like a predator hunts its prey, Loki climbed over your prone body, lining up his engorged cock with your weeping slit.

He watched you watch him as he slid in, inch by inch, your eyes watering as he forced his way into your cunt.

A self-satisfied smirk emerged on his face, knowing just how full he could make you feel.

Gently, he lowered his weight on top of you, pressing down so that his toned flesh covered your supple breasts and soft curves.

As he started to slowly thrust in and out of your tight core, Loki found both of your hands and brought them next to your head, interlacing his fingers with yours. Your palms were hot and sweaty, overwhelmed with the intimacy of his actions.

Summoning all the boldness you had inside of you, you dared your gaze to meet his and he was staring back at you with a mixture of lust and affection.

And also, possession.

Fuck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Without warning, he pushed faster, his hips smacking into yours with a vengeance. You instinctively brought your knees up to allow him deeper access. The wet slap of his cock into your pussy was sinfully loud in the cavernous bedroom.

All manner of helpless yelps and whines came out of your throat, your hands squeezed his as he fucked you raw.

“You need to be fucked, hard and often, healer.” The way he said your title could have been synonymous with whore.

The intensity of his look was almost too much, daring you to look away, but you found that you couldn’t. You were entirely addicted to this man, stronger than any drug you could have created in the healing room.

By Odin, he was the only one for you.

You pressed your forehead to his as he continued to slam his cock deep inside of your womb.

“I’m yours, my Lord.” The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.

“Loki.” An unreadable expression crossed his face as Loki pushed himself up. He pulled your legs to wrap around his hips as he knelt on the bed. Your pussy was still clenched around his cock and you took the opportunity to suck in a few deep breaths.

“Wha-what?” You panted, confusion furrowing your brow.

“Say my name. Say that you belong to me.” Loki commanded. He rose up, pulling his shoulders back, looking every bit like the prince, the god that he is. His dark hair was pushed back on his forehead, sleek with sweat, framing his sharp features like a crown.

Automatically obedient, the declaration left your lips with sincerity and conviction.

“I belong to you, Loki.”

With a laugh of triumph, Loki grabbed the pliant flesh of your hips and slammed your body against his own. He railed your core with his cock, hitting deeper than you ever thought possible. Your ass slid along his strong thighs, the friction smarting your skin that was still tender from his earlier disciplining.

“Loki—it’s too much!” You cried out, losing yourself in pleasure.

“Cum for me, my sweet girl. Worship me with your cunt!” Loki growled out, thrusting impossibly harder, impossibly faster.

The sensation built and built, his name spilled out of your mouth in an endless stream of moans, until suddenly the pleasure peaked.

In that instance, time stopped. Your lips parted in a silent scream, and you saw him.

Veins bulged in his forearm as he pulled you flush against his hips. Nose scrunched up in effort as he fucked you deeply. His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, wild in the throes of ecstasy.

Loki was your god.

And he was glorious.

Finally the air in your lungs released in a long-awaited scream and the orgasm crashed down. Nerve endings lit on fire, and your muscles jerked and spasmed underneath his strong grip. In the midst of your pleasure, you heard a faraway groan from your prince, and you could feel jets of hot cum coat the inside of your womb. He was marking you, claiming you as his.

You knew you would be his forever.

A few seconds later, Loki unceremoniously pulled out of your well-used pussy, and collapsed beside you, chest heaving with exertion.

Lying with one arm underneath his head, he lazily stroked your back as you curled up on his naked chest. Finally, the effect from the love potion had dissipated, leaving you with sweet relief.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, but your mind started to swirl with insecure thoughts. You steeled your nerves to ask a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind.

“Why did you never use me?”

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“Why did you never take a lover? Or ask for a healer’s services? I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, that you’re—“ Your mouth shut with an audible clack of your teeth.

Your clumsy tongue always got ahead of yourself. Worried you may have crossed a line, your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

But Loki answered honestly.

“You’re not my first. But I have long since known that I can’t fuck and forget like my ape of a brother.” He grimaces, and breathes in deeply before saying more.

“When I have sex, I need to own them. Possess them. I'm sure you noticed my dominant streak, my darling.”

“Then why’d you let me come in tonight? Why take the risk?” You wondered aloud.

“I’ve been watching you, my sweet little healer.”

You tensed automatically in surprise. Since when? What did he see? Why did he notice you?

Loki’s gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts as he confessed more.

“If you hadn’t approached me tonight, I would have snatched you from the healing room and made you mine before long.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating deep within his chest as you lay on his skin.

The revelation sank in slowly until finally, Loki pulled you up until your face was level with his.

“You just beat me to it, you naughty girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and your furrowed brow automatically relaxed.

“Tell me again. Will you belong to me, and only me?” He searched your eyes for any hint of deception, any trace of a lie.

You were certain that he would find none.

“Yes, Loki. I belong to you.”

…

#marvel #loki #loki laufeyson #Loki x reader #Loki laufeyson x reader #Thor #Thor 1 #Loki fic #Loki smut #Loki fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

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specsthesecond · 1 month ago

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°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

Birds chirp just outside the thick glass windows calling you from a deep sleep. You can see a bit of that light winter sun shine through the curtains, barely enough to brighten the room.

In his room every breath you take smells like him. In his bed the sheets are warm and soft, just like him. The chilly air forces you to burrow further into the covers as you regain consciousness and your muscles begin to stir. You stretch a little, teasing the sleep from your tendons, weighed down by the heavy arm around you. You hear a deep rumble from behind you as your lover stirs but quickly settles back into sleep, snoring softly.

You suddenly have the strong urge to turn around, you can feel him, you can smell him, you can hear him, you just want to see him. You try to turn around as gently as possible, twisting your waist under his arm and trying so hard not to stir your sleeping giant. A memory comes to mind of the first time you woke up in his arms like this, how you almost fell off his chest and he only stirred a little with the motion. Now that you think of it, he was fully awake only a few moments later, just in time to catch you admiring his face, awfully convenient. Your sleepy mind lights up and you eye your lover's sleeping face with new suspicion.

He breathes like he’s asleep, slow and rhythmic. His eyes are closed but he's not snoring anymore. You stare intently at his eyes, looking for any signs of consciousness, while your hands slowly move from his chest up to his shoulders. You take your time admiring him, like the first time except now, instead of being spurred by bewilderment and curiosity, there is actual admiration and love behind the action.

Your fingers flutter up his bare chest as you lean closer on your elbow. You lightly scratch at his stubble and see his lips twitch upwards just the tiniest bit, it breaks a smile onto your face. When your fingers make it to his cheek, you cup the fat there. One of his eyes squint open, trying to go unnoticed but obviously failing when he sees you looking right at him. He quickly shuts his eye again and snorts when he knows he's been caught, and you sit up, pushing him away while laughing, your suspicion now confirmed.

“You bastard!”

You push at his shoulders, and he laughs openly now, a raspy sound, thick with sleep.

“You were awake the whole time, even that first time!”

You shout accusations he doesn't understand, shaking his shoulders in faux anger and genuine embarasment. He finally fights back against your playful pushing by sitting up and wrapping his arm around your waist, also managing to grab a wrist. He brings your hand to his cheek, holding it there as he stared down at you in his lap. He makes it clear he wants you to touch him like that again while he's awake with all the admiration and curiosity you do when you think he's asleep. And you do, combing stray strands of hair from his face then moving down to tentatively touch his pretty tusks. You move in closer to look at the pretty carvings on them, blinking up at his eyes, which stare at your lips lazily. You inch closer and even closer until your lips barely graze his. And then you pull away, barely giving him time to grab for you before you hop off the large bed and dawdle your way to the bathroom.

You snicker as you hear him shout something like the orcish equivalent of “Hey!” You grab a cup and fill it with water from the water barrel in the bathroom, before grabbing the wooden toothbrush you got a while back from a travelling merchant and smearing on some minty herbal toothpaste.

The orc grumbles into the room and you grin at him as he grabs his own toothbrush, which is almost comically bigger than yours. After brushing the sleep off your tongue, you rinse your mouth with the cup of water, it tastes stale but it gets the job done. He does the same but you watch in curiosity as smears on a second glob of toothpaste before he starts brushing his tusks. You don't know why it hasn't occurred to you but it seems obvious now, he clearly takes very good care of them if they look that pretty, with all the careful carvings in the bone coloured ivory.

When he's done you walk to the kitchen, trying to not feel so unfamiliar with his home. The freezing cold tile of the kitchen is starting to feel atleast a little familiar, like the smell of the kitchen; doughy with hints of something earthy you can't name. You shiver as you reach for two mugs from the cupboard you saw him place your mugs in. He yawns and stretches in the doorway, as you look through the draws for a spoon.

He reaches over you to grab his own mug, placing his hand on your waist for an unneeded amount of time and then grabs the kettle placing it over the cast iron. You mull over what to drink, you don't want to drink up all your red tea, who knows when or if you’ll ever get more. Your lover opens another cupboard and pulls out a jar of cream-coloured powder, one brown coloured powder and a jar filled with a golden syrup. You watch him scoop a teaspoon full of the cream-coloured powder into his mug and then a much smaller amount of the brown powder that smells like cinnamon but is definitely not. You’ve realised now what he’s making and you push your mug closer to his, very subtly asking for a cup yourself. He looks down at you, gives you an amused huff and then plops some powder into your cup as well, along with a generous dollop of what is definitely honey.

You barely try to hide how you’re staring at him and you can tell by his slight smile that he can feel it. He finally turns to you when he’s done and leans against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. You hesitate for a moment now that you have his attention. Remembering your actions yesterday, he seems to like it when you’re upfront about your desires. You try to remember that as you place your hands on his chest and lean into him, gaze flicking between his eyes and his mouth. He cocks his head in response, even though you both know what you want. For some unknown reason, you can’t will yourself to just ask for a simple kiss, so you try and take it instead. He can’t help but chuckle when you start trying to climb him to reach your prize.

After a few moments of watching you struggle, he places his hands behind your thighs and lifts you up. The sudden movement makes you hit your knee on the kitchen counter and you yelp in pain, rubbing the sore skin while the orc places you on the counter. He looks down at the already bruising skin and bends down to sheepishly kiss the area, looking up at you apologetically with slightly darker cheeks. You laugh and place a hand on his cheek, he looks beautiful from this angle and you express that to him by leaning down to kiss him. He hums into the kiss, hands gently caressing up your thighs. Your hands roam his muscly back as he kisses you until your head is backed up against the cupboards, only allowing him to deepen the kiss further and-

The screaming kettle interrupts your intimacy and he gives an exaggerated sigh. Ignoring your snort he pours the hot water while you help with breakfast preparations.

After you eventually finish breakfast, he sits on the couch and you browse around his bookshelf. You pull a few of the cartography looking ones out and place them on the living room table, getting your pencil ready. He perks up and looks over when you slide over the finished note.

“You draw maps?”

Simple question to start. He nods his head.

You wait for him to write something down and elaborate but he just nods as if that’s the only question he expects you to ask about it. You fumble or a moment and slide the paper back to you, writing;

“Can I see?”

He seems surprised by that, like he didn’t expect you to care or ask about it. He nods and stands up, bringing the pencil and book. You follow him to the bedroom where he stands in front of the large map on the wall, placing the pencil and book down on the desk below it. He looks over to you, like he wants to confirm that you’re actually paying attention, and points to an orcish word on the map near the middle, gesturing to himself and the ground.

You light up a little and say,

“That's here?”

While gesturing down, he nods his head looking pleased that you understood and that he understood at least your gesture if not your words. He then points towards a point near the far right edge of the map, and points to you. It takes you a moment but when you realise that the bold line separating the two halves of the map is the Human-Orcish boarder, it becomes clear.

“That’s where I lived?”

While gesturing to yourself, he nods again. You look back at the map and notice that much of the right side past the bold line is blank, there's only a dot for your cabin, some trees and a lake.

You now have many questions and you go through them trying to figure out how to word them. When you grab your pencil and page through your translation book, you huff in frustration when you realise your questions are too long and messy to write down. You close the book and point to the lake on the map with your pencil,

“You found me here? When you saved me?”

After a moment he nods,

“Is that why you went past the boarder? You were drawing a map?”

You’d wondered what the hell he was doing just roaming around in human territory. He nods to you and says something about “drawing” while pointing at the area around the lake, then he says something, points to his ear and you catch the word “save”.

So he was mapping out the area, heard the ice crack and you fall in, and decided to bring you back home instead of letting you die. You just stare at the map for a little, as much as you want to berate him for crossing the boarder like that, if he hadn’t been there that day you’d certainly be at the bottom of that lake right now. The thought weighs heavier than you’d like.

You look over the map to try and distract yourself with the thick black inked symbols and sketches. On the far side of the map, deep in orcish territory, it looks like the land just stops. Maybe it’s another boarder or a river within Orc territory that he can’t cross. You point to the squiggly line with a confused face. He scratches his stubble, shrugs and says a word you don’t recognise. You look at him blankly and he huffs a laugh. He says a different word you don’t know, moving his hand up and down like he’s mimicking a snake or something. You still clearly don’t understand and he grabs the translation book, paging through it and pointing out a word for you.

“Sea”

You stare at the word in disbelief, that can’t be true, you’ve only ever heard stories of the sea. You look back at the map with scrunched eyebrows, It’s further away from his house than the distance between your house and his but that can only be half a days walk at most. There’s no way you spent your whole life not knowing the sea was a couple hours hike from your home. You look up at him and shake your head, and he just nods back to you. You cross your arms and fully turn to face him, looking a lot more serious. He fumbles a little at the earnestness on your face and gently takes the pencil from your fist, writing in the notebook.

“I can show you.”

You read it and soften a bit, nodding your head. You wonder if it looks like the drawings you’ve seen in books or if it really tastes as salty as they say.

The next hour or so is spent making lunch to carry with you to your destination. You pack the hard dough bread, berries and some dried meats into his rucksack and meet your lover in the living room. He tries not to laugh when you write to him asking if he’s sure it’s the actual sea and not a very big lake. He has a smaller map with him, one of just a small portion of orcish territory, he shows you the map and points towards where he’s drawn three little circles on the map that lie between his house and the alleged sea. He then points to his notebook which says,

“First bath then beach and lunch!”

You look at his written words then back at the map, so those three circles are little lakes? or maybe ponds? You suppose it might be warm enough to bathe but to hike what must be a couple of hours right after a cold bath is a bit drastic. You could absolutely do with a good clean though, you haven’t bathed since before you fled your home and a lot has happened since then. Your lover stands at the door, shoving his boots on and checking if he has everything he needs. You tuck the two books safely into your coat as you walk out the door into the chill outdoor air.

The sun tries it’s best to shine through the clouds as you walk amongst the trees, the ground snow has melted somewhat making traversing the landscape a bit easier. You’re walking behind the massive orc, staring at the neatly drawn map in your hands. You’ve found out you aren’t the best at reading maps as it turns out. Your lover very graciously had to reorientate the map in your hands multiple times and that didn’t even help you read it any better.

You’ve been walking a while and you have no idea where you are on this damn map. You hear your lover say something and you hum in acknowledgement still trying to read his map, until he moves your chin up and right in front of you is a beautiful steaming hot spring. Three little hotsprings actually, attached to a rocky incline in the forest ground. You look down at the map and then up again and then to your lover who lets out a very amused laugh.

You follow him to the nearest spring and dip your hand in, gasping as the hot water shocks your cold skin. You waste no time undressing, your lover doing the same, you step into the water and let out a genuine moan as the hot water seeps into your frost bitten bones. When your love steps into the pool the water overflows with his sheer mass making you laugh lighly.

He pulls a block of soap out of his pack and starts rubbing himself down with it, clearly this is his usual bathing arrangement which is a massive improvement from the freezing lake next to your cabin. The bastard, no wonder he has such soft skin and hair, especially for a damn woodsman. You scoff at him and he just gives you a confused look to which you shake your head and motion for him to pass the soap. Soon you feel cleaner than you have in a long, long time as you scrub the grime off your body, the sticky sweaty feeling finally being washed away.

The orc smiles endearingly at his lover, clearly pleased that you’re enjoying your hot bath so much. He unties his hair from the loose half bun it’s been in since he woke up and starts washing the thick mane. He pulls a wooden comb out his pack and starts untangling the strands. You’d heard that orcs take pride in their hair, you assumed this must have been to signal wealth or higher class or something. Your lover would have no use in that though so there must be some other reason? Maybe he’s just particular about hygiene. You’re completely unaware of how unabashedly you’re staring at him as you become lost in these thoughts. It doesn't go unnoticed by him though, he smiles at the thought of having to get used to it.

You watch him brush the comb through his hair, stretching to try and reach some troublesome knots in the back. You nudge closer and motion for him to give you the comb to which he hesitates. You retract your outstretched hand and look at him questioningly. You can’t parse his expression, surprised, hesitant, bashful maybe? When you’re about to shift away from him he reaches out and puts the comb in your hand. You move slowly behind him, a little worried by his earnestness at what you perceived as a simple gesture.

You gently untangle his knots, patiently brushing the twisted strands until they come free. He hums in thanks whenever you smooth the comb across his scalp after a successful untangling. You both enjoy the quiet atmosphere, its always like this with him, calm and comfortable. No pressure to entertain or engage, as if just existing near each other is all the comfort needed.

Your shoulders and breasts are exposed to the cold air and as you finish up brushing down the now tangle free locks a breeze blows past that makes your whole body shiver. You plunge back into the hot water and your orc looks back at you and chuckles. You click your tongue, of course he doesn’t feel the cold, the hot blooded bastard. You curl your arms around him from behind, pushing your perked nipples into his back. You feel him tense but you know it’s not because of the cold. You run your hands up and down his stomach and chest. It seems admiring your lovers body is becoming a frequent past time of yours.

He grunts a little when your hands wonder lower, following the black hair on his stomach as it thickens further down. He places a hand on yours as a gentle warning, as if you don’t know what you’re doing. You place your cheek against his warm back and reach deeper until you finally touch the base of his cock. He sighs as you wrap your hand around him, and thank the gods he can’t see your face. He might not have appreciated the look of absolute shock and a little horror on your face. It’s not your fault, your hand barely fits around him! You knew he was going to be big, obviously, but that’s just frightening. He groans low, and you realise you’ve kept your hand still for far too long, unintentionally teasing the poor guy.

You slowly move your hand up, one slow stroke all the way up his length and you are once again shocked by the size of him. You swore it didn’t feel that huge when you were grinding against him the other night. When you finally reach the head you stroke your thumb across the tip and he lets out a whine. A rather high pitched noise for an orc like him, not unlike the whines he made when you both came in your underwear on his living room floor.

He covers his mouth with a wet hand and the action makes you confused. You swipe your thumb across his tip again trying to get another sound from him. He shivers once more but any sound he makes is smothered by his hand, robbing you of any sweet whines. You huff indignantly and when you’re about to move your hand again he catches it and keeps it still on his cock, breathing into his hand. You’re somewhat puzzled by his embarrassment, especially since he was the one who quelled your anxieties the first time. You have to do the same for him and apparently your version of easing his apprehension was to pull the sounds out of him by force. With the hand he wasn’t holding you reached down past his cock and cupped his massive sack in your hand.

He lets out a rather high pitched yelp and his whole body jolts up at the no doubt unfamiliar touch. You burst out laughing and as he splashes water at you which does nothing to smother your laugh. He gives an incredulous look, you can only wheeze in response, which makes him splash more water at you as if that will hide his dark green cheeks. You wade over to him, saying apologies before being pulled up abruptly into his arms, your top half once again being exposed to the cold as he grumbles and hides his hot face in your chest. You can tell he isn’t really upset but you still feel bad, this gentle love doesn’t come easy to you like it seems to for him and it probably never will. You run your hands through his hair and mumble apologies to him,

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, my love, I was trying to do the opposite. I’m sorry.”

You know he doesn’t understand what you’re saying but you know he likes it when you speak to him in your language. He gazes up at you from between your tits and you smile down at him. You hesitate before attempting an apology in orcish, which makes him huff a laugh into your skin and clutch you closer. Does this mean your forgiven? He runs his massive hands all the way down from your waist to your knees and back up. You smile down at him, having this massive orc make himself smaller so he can look up at you like this, it makes you feel so…wanted? loved? worthy? You don’t know the word but it makes your heart sing.

Another breeze blows by and you shiver again, nipples hardening and skin prickling up with goosebumps. The orc snickers at you from below, reaching up to oh so gently stroke a hardened nipple with his thumb. You shiver and keen, before you even realise it your hand shoots up to cover your mouth and you only realise this when you see the very smug look on his face. He's exposed you as a hypocrite without even saying anything.

You try and push him away in irritation but he holds you against him, slowly pulling you down until the water reaches your chest and you’re straddling him. You feel something against your stomach and you freeze. Actually feeling his cock against you, so close to your pussy stirs such a blazing heat in your stomach you think you must be sick for a second.

You look down and feel your breath hitch at the massive cock just below the surface of the water, it rests just above your belly button, hot and hard. You notice that he isn’t touching you any more and you look up to see he’s avoiding looking at you and his hands rest at his thighs. You lean up and place a hand on his cheek, he finally looks at you and you can tell he feels bad. Why? You have no idea. Is he ashamed or just shy? Is it something else? You move your body even closer to his, and mutter a little “It’s ok.” Not sure what else to say or how to convey it.

You think he gets the meaning by how you say it. He lets you push him down gently until his back is resting in the edge of the spring, head being supported by the big smooth rocks laid there. You place his hands on your hips and settle your weight down, his cock now pushing your pussy lips apart. You both moan, finally feeling the direct skin to skin contact has your brain buzzing and his too it seems.

You move slowly, dragging your pussy up the length of his cock, feeling the girth under you as you grind up his entire length. When you reach the tip you circle your hole around it, teasing the entrance with something you know you can’t take, at least not yet. He hisses and bites his lip, trying to hold himself back again and the action makes you sad.

You lean down, squishing your chest against his and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him close. You nuzzle into his cheek, kissing from his ear to his tusk and looking him in the eye when you grind lightly into his tip, breath catching when the tip brushes your clit. You moan, as unabashedly as you can manage, trying to show him that you aren’t embarrassed by how good he makes you feel and that he doesn't have to be embarrassed by how good you make him feel either.

You lean forward and let him seal the kiss, letting his hot tongue mix with yours as you share moans and taste each others desires. You grind harder, longer thrusts up and down his cock, gradually speeding up as both your needs grow and your holds tighten.

He gets more confident with leading you, his hands on your thighs helping you grind down on him as the water sloshes and spills over with every thrust. He guides your hips up and down his shaft while jerking his hips in time. You both work in tandem, mouths never leaving each other for too long, you share hot breathes and groans as the pleasure rises each second. You clutch onto his shoulders and he grips your hips, both of you now feverishly humping one another, release so close.

All it takes is a few more well timed thrusts, his tip catches your clit and the forest is filled with the sounds of your shared ecstasy. You clench and shake against his cock as he thrusts against you, holding you so close, releasing his spend in the water with another loud grown. You both twitch and heave, bodies squished together, reeling from your orgasms. Your lover rests his head against the smooth rocks, breaths hot and thick in the chilly air. You look down and notice the now murky water below you and you let out a tired laugh, you’ll have to rinse off of in one of the other pools.

You lay there in the steamy water as the sensitive quiver in your pussy simmers into a dull ache. After a minute you sigh and lift yourself up before being immediatly thwarted by your lover who just grumbles, almost growls, and squeezes you closer to his chest. He makes it very clear that you’re not moving until he is done with his post sex cuddles. You have no choice but to comply, resting against your orcs chest watching the steam evaporate off his skin.

When you're finally done in the hot springs, your fingers are pruney but your muscles are relaxed. You had to get dried and dressed rather quickly with the volatile late winter air seeping into your skin the moment you stepped out of the heavenly hot water, as if the winter is offended that you tried to get warm at all. You wrap your hair in a cloth and cover it with your fur coat, lest the cold freeze down to your brain. Of course your orc lover doesn’t seem to mind as much as you do, simply tying his drying hair into a bun and throwing up the hood of his coat as if it were a mildly cold spring day.

Your lover takes then reins with the map this time and you walk for awhile more, until you notice the air smells different, more salty, and you can hear unfamiliar bird squawks. Your lover quickly turns around and motions for you to cover your eyes with your hands, you give him a blank look leading him to huff and do it himself. Covering your eyes with one hand and leading you with the other, you walk up an incline and then stop at the flattened top. He says something in orcish and then removes his hand, and you are completable and utterly speechless.

Blue. An incomprehensibly large amount of blue, as far as the eye can see and far beyond that. It moves and churns, little white waves in the distance and huge rolling ones crashing on the shore. It completely takes your breath away, the sound of the waves, the smell of sea salt, there’s even a portion of the sky where the clouds break and the endless blue sky meets the endless sea. The orc chuckles light-heartedly at your reaction and starts putting down a blanket and setting up lunch. You're so overcome with excitement you can’t even stop yourself from tackling him onto the blanket and giving him the biggest fattest kiss you can muster through your smile. You separate with a smack and he laughs dizzily. All this time such a beautiful sight has been a few hours from your home and you never knew it, all because of some damn boarder.

You spend hours there, munching on sandwiches, writing notes, watching the birds fly over the crashing waves. One of them tries to steal your sandwich when you get too distracted with your lover and you had to chase it down while he laughed. He takes you down to the sand and convinces you to step into the incoming waves which were even colder than you expected. He laughs at the face you make when you taste the salty water on your fingers. You pick up common shells and show them to him as if they’re rare gems. You carve symbols into the sand and watch them get washed away.

At the end of it you both sit on the grassy hill overlooking the beach, watching the sunset over the horizon.

You wonder what other marvels of the world you have yet to see.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

<- Previous

End ?

#Didn't mean to make it that fucking cheesy my bad #monster x human #monster lover #monster x reader #monster fucker #exophelia #monster boyfriend #orc x reader #orc romance #orc boyfriend #ITS DONE!!!!!! ITS OVER #I loved writing it dont get me wrong BUT ITS FINALLY OVER YAYYYYY!!#sorry if there are mistakes it's late lmao

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ditzydoe444 · 2 months ago

Text

MDNI 18+

panty stealing perv jason around puppy! reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

perv!jason x puppy!reader

smutty

a/n: this may possibly be part 1 bc i wanna have them FUCK but lmk

part 1 (currently) | part 2 |

jason todd didn’t have much of a social life, working away in the garage with nothing but his own thoughts was slowly driving him insane. one day, he came back from the garage and saw a moving truck outside the house next door. he knew new neighbors were coming, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon.

not that it mattered anyways, he didn’t even socialise with anyone.

next morning when he was making his early cup of coffee the doorbell rang, who could it possibly be? there was no one that cared enough about him to visit him at his own house. when he opened the front door he was met with a giant beaming smile. a younger girl, her eyes staring at him expectantly as she held out a tray of cookies.

“for my new neighbour,” she spoke happily, her smile as sweet as the scent of the cookies under his nostrils. “i don’t eat cookies,” jason grumbled, preparing to close the door on her until her foot stopped it.

“come on, it’s delicious, i baked it myself,” she grinned placing the tray even closer to him. it was very clear that she never heard the word ‘no’ through her actions of acting like a little pestering puppy. jason grabbed the tray before slamming the door in her face.

later that night jason was preparing to sleep early due to heavy work at the garage. the last thing he expected to see was you changing right in front of your window, curtains open. clearly, you were unaware of your current situation, stripping down from your mini dress where you were only in your tiny baby pink bra and panties. jason knew it was wrong to stare, god he probably looked like a pervert right now, and his thoughts further reinforced that.

he admired the soft delicate curves on your body, wondering how it would feel under his calloused hands. everything stopped the moment you removed your bra and panties before walking to the bathroom door. jason tried his best to not feel guilty about the whole situation, though the strain in his pants didn’t help the situation.

next day he left his house as early as he could to avoid you from knocking on his door again, despite his guilt his mind was constantly replying to what he saw from the window. though jason couldn’t even make it to the truck before he heard your voice calling out.

“hey!” you beamed skipping towards his truck in the driveway, wearing the tiniest two-piece pyjama set he as ever seen in his life. jason groaned, this was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

“heard you are a mechanic and like to fix things,” she smiled, completely unaware of the effect she had on him. jason raised his brow, “what do you need that has to be fixed” his arms crossed around his chest and he swore he saw her checking his muscles out.

“my drawer broke during the moving process, so i got a new one but i don’t know how to build it.” it was a bad idea, a really really, bad idea. going to her house, let alone her bedroom after last night was something he shouldn’t do, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“sure.”

it was going well, for the most part, building furniture was like child's play for jason, which was why he had finished the drawer pretty quickly. however, she insisted that she baked him something to eat as a ‘thank you’, despite jason’s protest it became pretty clear she always got what she wanted. trying to stay away from her jason offered to help build her other furniture after seeing all of the boxes in her room. he started to build her vanity, quickly working on placing it together.

however, one thing caught his attention. in the pile of clothes she had dumped he saw the same baby pink panties slightly hidden by the pile of other clothes, anyone else would’ve overlooked it but he couldn’t.

“jay! cookies are ready!” her voice breaking him out of his trance. he knew he shouldn’t, it was wrong, so goddamn wrong. before he could even think rationally he took the flimsy piece of fabric and shoved it into his back pocket.

he felt guilty, you were so blissfully unaware as you rambled on about the moving situation, jason’s mind clearly not listening as he thought about the fabric in his back pocket. “i should go,” he grumbled standing up, you pouted at how quickly he wanted to leave.

“you sure? you can stay for dinner,” you smiled in an attempt to brighten the mood. jason didn’t care, already making his way to the front door. “no, it’s all good. thanks for the cookies.”

you quickly followed him, your bare feet padding down the hallway. “wait! at least take the cookies with you,” you pouted as your hands held out the tray. “it’s fine, really.”

did he hate you that much?

answer is no. jason was currently jerking off with your panty, the fabric covering his dick as he strokes it with his hand. “f-fuck,” he groaned as his head falls back on the pillow, his eyes shut. the material was soft, he wondered what it would feel like to have him rubbing his cock against your clothed cunt, maybe you would be so soaked that he could basically see the whole damn thing.

he wasn’t a saint when he went to your house even after stealing your panty, the way his eyes focused on your ass when you pranced around shorts that were so short leaving your cheeks exposed. he watched as you squeezed the syrup sauce on your drink. the way you frowned when you squeezed it and nothing came out, so you decided you point the nuzzle toward you, as you inspected it and squeezed it. once it finally worked, the thick sugary syrup squirting on your cheek slightly he wondered how you would react if it was his come painting your pretty little face when you sucked him off.

would you have giggled as you did with the syrup? grabbing the sugary liquid off your face with your finger before sucking it off with a ‘pop’?

god he didn’t even want to talk about how your tits shook when you pumped the syrup out. the tight shirt with no bra meant he saw every little movement. the way they moved with your hands as you shook the bottle.

as much as he didn’t want to admit it, you following him around as a little lost puppy was adorable. you were so obedient when he had asked for extra syrup on his drink purely because he wanted to see your tits move as you shook the bottle you were eager to comply. he was pretty damn sure that if he asked you to ride his boot you would with no hesitation.

the moment he had returned to his room he sniffed the material that was shoved in his back pocket, it was wrong, so wrong but he couldn’t stop. maybe if he stole all of your panties you would just prance around with your bare cunt. if he went by to your house to help with the remaining furniture and you were so dutifully adorable by baking him something sweet, he might catch a glimpse of your bare cunt bent over the kitchen bench as you baked. he also didn’t miss the way your tits were pushed together when you squeezed the icing on the cupcake you were baking for a party, he wondered what it would be like to hold them in his hands.

it wasn’t long before he came on your panty, his thick liquid spilling out tainting the material. god he was done for.

#ch: jason #jason todd #dc smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood smut #red hood x reader

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starshideurfics · 6 months ago

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Little Steve who gets lost on a shopping trip in Chicago once. He’s bored and wanders towards a window display while his mommy is at the perfume counter, everything is so neat and perfectly in place. By the time he turns around, he can’t see his mommy anywhere.

Steve takes a deep breath and starts walking, ready to go looking for her, only to realize just how big the department store is. He’s overwhelmed and ducks into the middle of a clothing rack, curling up into a little ball, his lip wobbling as he makes peace with the fact he will have to live at the department store. He knows there’s food there because they already had lunch, and they walked past a whole department full of candy. There are little beds in the home department that will be just the right size for him, even if Mommy always says he shouldn’t climb on them and not to embarrass her. There’s even a giant teddy bear in the toy department, so really, living here won’t be so bad!

“Steve! Stevie! Oh my god! Steven!”

Steve perks up. That’s his mommy. He crawls out from under the rack, through a curtain of suit coats.

“Mommy!” He runs to her and she crouches down to pull him into her arms.

She cries as she holds him and apologizes, words more for herself than for Steve. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I thought you were right next to me. Oh god! What if something had happened to you?”

He gets a new toy truck, a nice one with working doors, and Mommy holds his hand the rest of the trip. They get ice cream. It’s the best day ever, and Steve was only scared for a minute.

A month later, Steve is bored at home. Daddy is in his office and Mommy is on the phone.

Every time he tries to talk to Mommy she says, “Not now, Steve. Mommy’s busy.” Daddy’s office door is locked.

So, Steve decides to run away. If he’s missing, Mommy will want to find him and hold him close. He puts on his shoes, carefully tying the bows on his laces, and leaves.

The sliding door into the backyard is quiet as he closes it behind himself, and he sets off with a determined gait.

Steve makes it far enough into the woods that he can’t see his house anymore. Then far enough that he comes out on a field that he doesn’t recognize. Another little boy is in the field, very focused as he stares at a patch of clover. “What are you doing?” Steve asks as he approaches.

“Catching moths!” The boy points to an open mason jar with leaves and twigs inside, then to the clover, a handful of white and yellow moths among the plants. He smiles at Steve, a gap where one of his baby teeth has already fallen out, then turns back to the clover, taking slow steps and crouching, trapping a moth between his cupped hands. “Can you grab the jar?”

Steve does, holding it carefully as the older boy places the moth inside, holding a hand over the jar’s mouth. “Thanks! My name’s Eddie, what’s yours?”

“Steve.”

“Wanna help me catch some more?”

“Yeah!”

Together, the boys catch a few more moths (Eddie catches all of them, Steve keeps scaring them by moving too fast). Eddie puts them in the jar, closing the lid, holes already punched in the metal, and they watch the little insects walk along the twigs and languidly flap their wings. Then Eddie unscrews the lid, giggling as the moths fly away.

“Why’d you do that? We worked so hard!”

“Moths can’t live in jars. Mama always says I can look but I can’t keep ‘em,” Eddie answers with a smile. Then Steve’s stomach growls loudly, and Eddie looks up to see how low the sun already is in the sky. “I’m hungry too. It’s almost dinner time, so we should head home.”

“I don’t know how to get home,” Steve says softly, suddenly realizing he got pretty turned around in the woods and home could be anywhere.

Eddie takes Steve’s hand. “That’s okay, you can come with me!” Eddie knows exactly what to do, leading Steve with all the confidence of a six-year-old, ready to start 1st grade next month. They quickly arrive at the trailer park, Eddie knocking at a door before walking straight inside, tugging Steve after him. “Uncle Wayne!”

“Hey there, Bug, who’s your friend?” Eddie’s uncle is tall, with kind eyes. Even if Eddie hadn’t brought him there, Steve’s pretty sure he would like Uncle Wayne.

“This is Steve.”

“Steve’s folks know where he is?”

“He doesn’t know how to get home.”

“Ah, shhh—” Wayne winces, cuts himself short, and Steve’s pretty sure he was gonna say a bad word. “Steve, do ya know your phone number?” Wayne asks, crouching down to be eye-level with the boys.

“No…” That’s a lie. But he needs to make sure Mommy and Daddy are worried about him. If he gets sent home too soon, they’ll just be mad.

“Your address?”

“No.”

“How about your last name?”

Steve just shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. He had so much fun with Eddie, and now everything is falling apart. He should have stayed home…

Wayne ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay, kiddo. We’ll get you home.” Steve’s stomach growls again. “How about we have a snack? Everything looks better on a full stomach.”

Eddie is still holding Steve’s hand, and brings him over to the little table, letting go so they can climb onto chairs. Wayne gives them chocolate-covered mini donuts and orange soda, asking them about their afternoon, Eddie doing most of the talking.

Then the phone rings, and Wayne answers. “No, he’s here, Bets, Eddie’s with me. — What?” He turns to look at the boys, staring at Steve, before continuing, “Nope, you saved me some trouble. You know Eddie, he picked up a stray. — Pretty sure it is. Yep, I’ll drop Eddie off after.” He hangs up, smiling again. “Hey, Steve, I think I know how to get you home now, so don’t you worry.”

Wayne loads the boys into his truck. He drives the backroads, quickly arriving outside Steve’s house, his mommy throwing open the door when she notices their arrival. “Thank you,” Steve says quickly, scrambling out of the truck and running to his mother.

She holds him close and cries, yells her thanks. Steve waves goodbye to Eddie as he is carried inside. Mommy kisses his hair and tells him he isn’t allowed to go outside without telling her, that he scared her half to death.

Steve just hides his face against her shoulder, snuggling close.

When Daddy gets home he yells, scolds Steve for causing so much trouble, for scaring Mommy and making them call the police. He gets a spanking before be sent to his room for the night.

Steve never runs away again.

#steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #Just a couple of babies #ready for friendship #craving affection #angst

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satorusugurugurl · 5 months ago

Text

The Full Moon

Summary: You finally convince your werewolf fiancé to let you see his true form. One that he normally keeps hidden away from you due to the fact, he is so unbearably horny in his true form.

Pairing: Werewolf!Gojo Satoru X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Primal play, ABO, werewolf, knotting, dirty, talk, oral, (female receiving) loud smex,, sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Kinktober day nine! Werewolf! I not too familiar with monster smex so think of him as like a wolf man hybrid! I hope you guys enjoy! I've had a really shitty week so this might be my best work! But I put my whole heart into it! 💚💚💚

“We shouldn't be doing this.” Satoru sighed as he watched you eagerly peek out the window. “I usually go home during the full moon.”

Annoyance crept up your spine like a autumn chill. “Toru, we've been over this.” you showed him your left hand, the engagement ring on you ring finger glitter. “I'm going to be your wife soon. I don't want you running off locking yourself in a pent house during a full moon. I'm going to be your wife. I’ll be there to help you.”

“Ughh!” He flopped dramatically back against the bed. “I hate that you have to see me like this.”

“Gojo Satoru.” you stood across the room, crawling on the bed with him. “I love you, every part of you.” Cerulean eyes narrowed as a silent warning. “Even the furry parts.”

“Oh my god, I don't turn into a giant wolf like the movies. I just grow some claws—and sharp teeth—and I get a little—and I mean a LITTLE hairy.”

You giggled, grinning softly as he wrapped his arms around you, yanking you onto his chest. He exhaled deeply through his nose the air moving your hair. His grip was tight, allowing you to feel the anxiety creeping through his body. You knew he was nervous, but deep down inside of the deepest parts if you, you knew it would be okay.

Satoru was a werewolf. Something you hadn't entirely believed at first. But when you saw his steel door barricaded apartment, you knew he was telling the truth. But he wasn't the type to go out killing people every fool moon, he mostly got—horny, maybe went after a few cats, but he never hurt anyone.

Which brings you to tonight. By some great other world, sleep power you were able to talk him into steam with you tonight. That way you could see all that happens when he transforms and everything else. You needed to know these things. It totally wasn’t to see how feral he became when he was under the influence of the moonlight.

“Satoru I love you no matter what. Hairy or not.” He smiled oh so lovingly at you as you stood up walking towards the window. “So would it be okay if I open the window?”

There was a hesitation in his eyes, but with a deep breath, he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah it’s fine, But if this gets too intense for you to handle, you need to tell me. It might take me a while to snap out of it, but I promise you I’m going to protect you.”

“I know, I just want you to know I love you no matter what.”

Without another word, you open the blackout curtains, allowing the moon to spill in through the window to flood the room. Nothing Really special happened at first. Satoru Just stared at the moonlight outside not saying much..but After a minute or two you could see his body trembling. You hadn’t been anticipating it to happen so fast. And seeing it in person was a bit of a shock.

His entire body shook his fingers dug into the sheets underneath him. “Toru?” You hesitantly, asked to stepping closer. “Are you okay? Do you need to stop? I can close the blinds and we can enjoy a nice quiet evening.” When he didn’t say anything, just curling himself in weird towards his body, as if he was in an immense amount of pain eared back out the window.. “Fuck maybe this is a bad idea. I guess you might be in for a long night Toru.”

The guilt didn’t even have a chance to fester within your stomach as you heard a growl from behind you. it was deep, dark and full of need. And That sound alone had you squirming.

“Oh sweetheart,” your shifted your weight from one leg to the other as a shiver ran down your spine at the voice came beside you, ‘You’re in for a long night.” Turning your head, you came face to face with Gojo as you stared into his glowing blue eyes.

“Toru,” you gasped out, reaching for him, “are you okay—” Before your hand could touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pinning you against the wall. The sudden action had you hissing through gritted teeth as you stared up at your werewolf boyfriend.

“You know what.” he licked his bottom lip, revealing sharp canines as thick hair covered his chest as he transformed into a werewolf. He learned in gently taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging at it gently, “You smell even better.” he tightened his grip on your wrists, careful not to hurt you as his sharp claws dug into your skin. “I can smell everything about you, and do you know what that means.” He leaned in closer to you, his face inches away from yours, “I can smell your arousal.”

Shivering, you whined, rolling your hips against nothing as you felt that same arousal coating your panties. “Mhmm fuck, you look so fucking sexy.” Your boyfriend tilted his head as a pure animalistic growl rose in his chest.

“Is this why you wanted me to stay?” Using his free hand, Gojo grabbed both sides of your face forcing you to look directly into his slitted pupils, “You wanted to fuck me when I’m like—.” Another growl sounded, sending heat to pool between your thighs, “A lunar-driven werewolf.”

You didn’t fight him because he had hit the nail in the head with the hammer. You did want to see him in his proper form because you were getting married. But there was also a different reason, a more selfish reason, why you wanted him to stay. You were so desperate to see him like this. Thinking about him and his apartment, horny and hopeless, had been your muse for your masturbation sessions for months.

“There’s no denying it, Sweetheart, I can smell your arousal.”

You scoffed, trying to play it off cool, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He laughed cocking an eyebrow up at your very blatant lie.

“You are such a liar.”

“N-No, I’m not!”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, shaking his head back and forth, “Please, you’re just gonna stand there looking up at me and not beg me to fuck you right here against the wall like a whole animal.” His teeth grazed over your neck. The sharpness of his fangs suddenly made you realize he was a predator.

“I guess I can’t deny that,” you whispered, watching his knee inch closer to your spread legs. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it!”

“Thought about it?” He bowed, laughing, “Oh, Sweetheart, I’m going to need you to elaborate on that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he narrowed his gaze, rolling his eyes as he grabbed your face.

“You think I’m lying to you?” He leaned in closer, “I can smell that so sweet slick that’s coating your panties,” he pushed your legs further apart, allowing him to slide his knee between them, “You need me just as bad as I need you. I need to be inside you to breed you, make you mine, in every way I can. I need to mark you up. Make sure no other pathetic male in this city looks at you.”

“Fuck you’re so territorial!” you shoved at him. Still, all your efforts were useless against his sturdy frame, “ I want that! I want you to lose control. I want you to make me mine in every way you possibly can! Please, Toru! I nee—” he cut you off by slamming his lips against yours causing your eyes to shut with desire.

There was no hesitation in your movements as you melted into the kiss. Years of adoration and love were poured into that shared kiss. Then, there was something deeper, more profound in that kiss. It was a hunger you had never sensed within your fiancé before. It was strange and foreign, but you liked it. Feeling him loose and slowly losing control over himself had you snaking your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. Gojo loved feeling you growing more submissive with every presence of his lips against yours. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip before he shoved his tongue in your mouth, not giving you much of a chance to allow him entry.

He tasted fucking fantastic, like strawberries and cream, and that taste alone went straight to your pussy. He must have sensed your growing arousal as he pressed his knee against your pajama-cladded core. Moaning softly into his mouth, you raked your hands through his soft white hair as your tongues battled against each other, twisting and exploring every single inch. You were so lost in the kiss that you found yourself grinding down on his thigh, desperate for more than just kissing. You wanted him to give him to the beast deep within his soul.

Gojo pulled away the saliva, connecting your lips before he smirked. “Mate,” his eyes wandered down to your hips, watching as you shamelessly rocked against him, “Whose the horny beast now? Look at you letting into your desires, letting go into carnal desire.” Your fiance reached up, grabbing a handful of your hair and “Giving in to her alpha.” A chittering, rumbling growl rose in the back of his throat as he pulled your head back by your hair, causing a mewl of pleasure to spill out of your mouth, “And I fully intend to give everything to you, my sweet little omega.”

He tugged at your hair again, allowing him access to your neck, “T-Toru,” you whispered as he kissed and sucked on your neck so hard you knew you were going to have marks littering your pretty skin. He traced his tongue over the marks he had left behind, causing goosebumps to rise under his touch, “f-fuck.” you gritted through your teeth, feeling your body going limp under his talented touch.

“Nuh-uh.” he teased, whispering against your collarbone, “Be a good girl and stand up.” All you could do was nod, letting him know you understood. He grabbed both sides of your hips, “Stand up straight for me.” you obeyed his commands, standing up straight for him, “Spread your legs.”

You spread them to him, allowing him access to you. He licked his lips, dropping to his knees, ripping your shorts down with his sweats. The entire time those glowing animalistic eyes of his focused on the pretty cunt between your legs. Long-clawed nails hooked on either side of your lace panties before he ripped them off.

“Oh fuck, that's my sweet omega.” He leaned down, resting his nose against your mound, “Now be still, I’m going to get you off first..”

He pressed his tongue against your folds, lapping at them quickly with no hesitations. You screamed in pleasure as your legs started shaking. Gojo gripped your hips, holding you up straight up and completely still. But even under his robust and sturdy touch, you felt weak. His tongue lapped at your folds before he took your labia into his mouth, sucking greedily at them.

Reaching down, you grabbed a handful of his longer tufts of white hair. Every lap, kiss, and suck caused you to buck against his mouth, eager for more. Gojo seemed as enthusiastic as you were, losing to the inner beat inside of him. He was desperate to taste all of you, to feel you cum against his tongue. From the speed and roughness, he wasn't going to let up until his mouth and chin were covered in your slick. This was one of the many reasons he avoided you during the full moon: he couldn’t keep his hands, fingers, and mouth off of you.

“T-Toru!” Mewls and whimpers filled the bedroom, accompanied by the snarls and grills of the werewolf who was eating you out, “Toru, I-I’m close,” he only growled in response, taking one of his hands off your ass, trailing it between your legs. He thrust two fingers inside of you, your walls instantly clamping down on them as you let out some form of a moan, “Oh fuck, holy fuck.”

Pulling away for a split second, Gojo smirked, his lips glistening with your juices, all while his glowing blue eyes bore into yours, “Oh, Sweetheart, this is anything from holy.” His mouth instantly found your clit sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves with his teeth.

“Ahh!!!” You shouted in ecstasy as he pumped his fingers deeper and faster inside of you. You tighten your grip on his hair as your orgasm begins building deep within your core, “I-I’m gonna cum, oh fuck Toru,” biting down on your bottom lip, your thighs began shaking and clamping down on his head, “Ah fuck, oh fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He increased the speed of his movements, pushing you, tumbling over the edge, “Satoru!!” You screamed as your body pulsated and trembled under his mouth and touch.

Gojo growled, like the werewolf he was, as he pumped his fingers faster, working you through your orgasm and drawing it out. It isn't until you think you'll pass out from the endorphins running through your system that Gojo finally stands. His eyes returned to his normal eyes for a split second before his lips curled back from his teeth as his sweats fell room around his rankles.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He questions, pulling his massive cock out of his black boxers, “Are you going to finally submit your Alpha. Give in to those fantasies that I’ve been plaguing your mind?” Your mouth was suddenly dry as you forgot to speak and breathe, “Answer me, baby girl.” You nodded in response, only to hand him reach up and tug on your hair, pulling you close to his face, “That's not an answer.” He began rubbing the head of his cock against your wetness, teasing you, “Tell me, do you want me to fuck you like you have always imagined that omega?”

“Yes!” You finally managed to gasp out as he reached his hand up to tug gently on your hair, sending electricity through every nerve of your body, “I want you to fuck me senseless!”

“What's the magic word?” He barely pushed against your opening, sending your hips rocking towards him.

“Please! Please fuck me, alpha!”

That was all he needed to hear as he slid his cock between your wet lips. Your pussy twitched and stretched around him as he filled you inch by inch with his massive cock as groaned against your neck, continuing to push inside of you until he was completely seated inside your wet throbbing cunt to the end.

“God, you feel so fucking good. You.” He lifted you by the thighs, “Your pussy feels so good swallowing my cock like that, clutching around it.” Gojo smirked up at you as you looked down at him, moaning loudly, “You like that Omega? You like feeling my knotted cock deep inside of you?”

“Y-Yes, alpha!”

“Good girl,” he smirked against your skin, continuing to pound into you; every thrust sent shock waves to all of your nerves, “You take my cock soo good,” he growled, biting down on your ear, “You’re my little cock slut aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

He continued thrusting in you, fucking you against the wall of your shared bedroom. Not caring if the neighbors heard or if he knocked down every picture and art you meticulously placed on the wall. All that mattered to him at this moment was knotting you and marking you up with his teeth, so no other werewolf came near you. You were his, and he was yours.

So he fucked you like no other man or beast had fucked you before. It was fast, hard, and fan-fucking-tastic. His massive knotted cock hit your sweet spot with every single thrust. And with each drag out, the head of his cock brushed against the spongy bundle of nerves. Every single brush pushed you closer to the second orgasm that had begun to build inside of you.

Your finger slammed against the wall behind you as you’re right hand dug into the muscles in his back while wrapping your legs around his waist, “Fuck me, Satoru, fuck me, please!” Gojo snapped his hips faster fucking you harder against the wall, all while his head buried in the crook of your neck, nipping ad sucking at your pulse, “Yes, just like that!”

“You like that, sweetheart,” as he increased his speed, rocking faster and harder, your back rubbed up and down the metal, “take it,” he bit down hard into your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, “You fucking love this, don’t you mate?”

You did love it; it was everything you had ever dreamed of, but it was ten times better! This was like every fantasy book you had ever read, and you were living your best dream!

“I do, God, I fucking love it!” you began rocking harder against Satoru feeling the coil in your lower stomach tighten, “I-I’m gonna cum Toru!” you cried out as he bit harder into your flesh.

“Yeah cum, cum all over my cock, Sweetheart,” was whimpering and whining like a dog in heat. One that had been so overcome by lust that he was losing himself in the pleasure, “Cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and you came for him hard. You let out a scream digging your heels into his ass while you dug your fingers into his back. Waves of pleasure washed every inch of your body as he continued fucking you, drawing your orgasm. With two more thrusts, he followed you right over the edge, his come spurting inside of you, coating your walls. You tighten your grip on him as he milks himself inside of you.

As the waves died, you were gasping for air, resting your head against his, “Oh my God, Toru. You’re never staying in that apartment alone ever again.” He chuffed, almost purring as he carried you towards the bed. You were most certain if he had a tail, he would be wagging it.

“Fine by me.” He growled as light from the shimmering moon outside highlighted the curves and muscles on his body as he forced your thighs apart. “Now, what do you say you let the big bad wolf in?”

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tojigasm · 5 months ago

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﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀Imperfect For You

ᥫ᭡... Bucky Barnes x female!reader

⊹₊˚ꕤ˚₊⊹ Been sooooo busy with school so here's a little something for you beauties. Hopefully I'll be able to finish one of my Swann Arlaud drafts too. Kisses xoxo

You'd like to think that bad days happen as a frequent collapse of karma you'd earned up over each month or so. Coined as 'The Fuckening' by both Bucky and yourself.

on most annual karmic days of the month, you usually run into small issues throughout the day. you miss a light on your way to work, maybe burn your lip on coffee, or accidently wear two different socks.

However, today was abnormally awful with seemingly no end to your karmic backlog of bullshit built up.

It started with you tripping over one of Bucky's high tops while getting ready, then you missed a light on your way to work, ultimately resulting in you being late, and then you'd stumbled over your words during a work presentation, got nauseous during lunch because you'd forgotten your packed lunch at home without enough time to leave the office, and then almost got hit by someone merging into your lane on your way back home.

upon pulling into the driveway of your apartment complex, you breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Bucky's red Ford F-150 parked amongst a sea of other vehicles. And while you're more than relieved to know you wont be having to wait for him to get home to detail the horrific events of your day, it also means that his giant ass truck took up the very last spot meaning that you're stuck in the teeny tiny garage you can almost never get out of.

Once parked, you immediately hit your head on the top of your car as you step out, falling back into your seat with a groan before grabbing your purse and making your way towards your apartment.

Light from the kitchen settles through the flowery curtains you'd picked out when the two of you first moved in. The amber light illuminating the pastel flowers and nimble green threaded vines.

The smell of lasagna pasta couldn't be more inviting as you made your way into the warmth of your home, slipping off your heels with one hand as the other struggled to shut the front door.

Busy with your shoes, you hadn't noticed Bucky making his way towards you until a warm hand pressed over your own, helping to push the door back.

Letting out a hitched squeal, you jumped slightly before bringing a hand to rest over your racing heart.

"Woah," Bucky stood still at your side as not to spook you further, slowly pulling both hands into the air shoulder width apart.

You turn your head up to look at him as you pull your other heel off.

He's sporting his red Henley that you love so dearly and he's ran his metal hand through his hair recently.

His eyes are wide and dark brows furrowed as he watches you lazily drop both heels onto the wooden floor.

"Hi."

"Hi...?" Bucky drops his hands down to his side, looking you up and down as you made your way through the entryway and into the kitchen, "Y'okay?"

Not having the energy to relax completely at the moment, you offer a weak hum. you're far too exhausted and honestly too pissed off from the events of the day to particularly get into why you've been more on edge as of late.

Bucky follows you into the kitchen but before you're able to make it any further you decide you should go put on your pajamas.

Turning around to head upstairs, you collide face first with his metal arm, and the both of you let out a sharp gasp.

Bucky's hands are instantly on you, cupping your cheeks and turning your head side to side as he looks you over as you nurse the tender spot of your temple.

"Jesus..." Bucky says under his breath, massaging the cool pad of his metal thumb in circles over the small bump, "Sorry, sweetheart," he chuckles lightly, "Didn't realize y'were turning around."

You don't say anything in response, closing your eyes to try and stop the onslaught of tears and wrecked emotions from the wretched events of the day.

irked by your silence, Bucky soothes his hand over your chin softly, "Hey," he coos, and you meet his eyes, "Y'okay?"

Something about the gentleness of Bucky's voice paired with the soft soothing motions of his hold on you sends you over the edge and before you're able to stop yourself, hot tears are running down your cheeks and strewing your thick lashes together.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky's eyes widen "What happened?"

You're too tired to speak, too exhausted to explain so you opt to snuggle yourself into his chest, muffling your sobs in the thick fabric of his Henley.

Bucky holds you there, running his hand up and down the fabric of your work clothes, keeping your head tucked to his chest with his metal hand.

After a moment, you start to feel overwhelmed by everything; the fabric of your work clothes is suddenly itchy against your skin and your feet hurt from your heels and your hair feels like its pulling on the nerves of your skull.

Pulling at the hem of your shirt and fidgeting in Bucky's hold, he seems to catch on quickly.

"Shhh, shhh," Bucky presses a kiss to the side of your head, pulling back to lean against the wall as he helps you pull your top off and unbutton your bottoms, "I gotcha'."

Left in your panties and socks, still wrapped in Bucky's thick arms, you mentally thank Bucky for shutting the blinds and curtains to the balcony before you got home.

Holding you there for another moment, he runs his hand up and down your back again before leaning down some to cup your cheeks in his hands again.

"Wanna go put on your pj's and I can get your dinner ready?"

you nod and he whispers a soft "M'kay," pressing a firm kiss to your hairline.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After changing into your pajamas, that being one of Bucky's navy tops that hangs down to your knees with a pair of striped pajamas shorts, you made your way back downstairs to the kitchen.

Bucky meets you as you enter the kitchen, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and handing you your bowl of lasagna pasta. His right hand scratches at your lower back gently.

"Thankyou," you lean your head against his chest and he hums into your hair.

"Wanna tell me about your day?" He asks, leaning on his metal hand on the kitchen table, keeping his right hand on your lower back.

Swallowing a forkful of your pasta, you give a soft nod.

Bucky nods, "M'gonna go change," he makes his way past you towards the stairs.

With a soft sigh, you make your way into your living room to sit down on your tawny-colored couch.

You scroll through your phone, taking small bites of your pasta as you listen to Bucky rustle around in your shared bedroom.

When Bucky comes downstairs again, he makes his way into the kitchen and you can hear the clinking of Bucky's metal hand against the pot of lasagna pasta as he serves himself a bowl before he comes into the living room, taking a seat beside you on the couch.

He drops his hand to your thigh, gently massaging and squeezing the plush of your skin.

You pull your legs up onto the couch as Bucky turns the TV on, sifting through the streaming services before settling on one of your favorite tv shows.

As the two of you eat, he occasionally runs his hand over some part of your skin or presses a kiss to the side of your head. The softness of his actions settles you into a relaxed headspace as he takes your mind off the stress of the day.

Once the episode finishes, Bucky takes your bowl and places both yours and his own onto the table.

He pulls you into his lap by your arm, helping you settle both thighs over his own and placing your hands onto his broad shoulders.

"Tell me what happened," he speaks softly.

You're compelled to tell the frustrating events of your day as he soothes it out of you with gentle words and soft touches; everything about him far more kinder than whatever heavy cloud was that had been weighing over you.

Taking a shaky inhale as you steady yourself to relive the horribly bad day you'd had, Bucky's quick to shush you softly, whispering "S' okay," as you pull at the hem of his navy blue T-shirt.

"So... first it started with me tripping over one of your shoes while I was trying to get ready and then that made me late to work because I missed a light and then I was flustered from that for the rest of the day and realized I wasn't well-prepared enough for my work presentation. Then, I stumbled over my words during the presentation Infront of my boss and that made me even more flustered and after that I got nauseous because I realized that when I'd gone downstairs while getting ready and tripped over your shoe, I'd originally been downstairs to get my lunch but I forgot and then forgot to pack my lunch and that made me have a horrible headache throughout the rest of the day. And finally, when I was driving home, someone almost hit me while merging onto the highway."

You realize you're still playing with the hem of Bucky's shirt, having not looked up at him once during your rant.

Your eyes tilt upwards to meet his.

"So yeah, today was not fun."

"Doesn't sound fun." Bucky sighs, soothing his hand down the side of your thigh, "Sorry about my shoe by the way."

You nod, bringing your eyes down to his lap again.

"Just wanna forget about t'day. It sucked really bad."

"I can see that," Bucky chuckles lightly, earning a weak giggle form you. "Need some help forgetting about your bad day?" Bucky gives you a soft pout.

"Please?"

He hums and moves to stand up, helping you off his lap as he grabs both of your bowls of the table, "Go upstairs while I clean up."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

On your bed, you scroll through your phone as you listen to Bucky move about downstairs. Texting your friends and googling random things that come across your feed.

You're in the middle of looking at images of colorful sea slugs when Bucky makes his way into your bedroom.

Instantly, you're placing your phone onto the nightstand and sitting up onto your knees to meet him in a soft kiss at the foot of the bed. Towering over you, he keeps his hand on your neck, gently holding you still as he presses soft kisses to the corner of your mouth and down your jaw before placing a final one to the top of your head.

He can tell you're already antsy by the way you're eager to follow his lead, worked up from the day paired with the commanding tone of his voice as he maneuvers you to your hands and knees.

Bucky gently caresses the plush of your ass through the fabric of his top you're wearing, squeezing and smoothing over your skin.

You're impatient under him, whining when he slips his fingers down to run the pad of his cool thumb over the soaked fabric of your panties.

Bucky ignores you, continuing to gently press and circle your clit beneath the fabric, holding his right hand to your hip, keeping you steady.

He takes a seat beside you on the bed, not halting his movements as he switches between hands. He presses his metal hand to the dip of your back, forcing you to rest on your forearms, keeping your ass in the air.

"Good girl," He says warmly, pulling your panties to the side of your cunt before slipping his cool thumb past your soaked folds.

The cool intrusion forces a shiver up your spine and whimper softly into the skin of your forearm.

You readjust yourself on your knees and Bucky lets you, slowing his touch as you sway slightly before settling again.

Bucky continues to gently stroke his thumb over your clit as he pumps his finger into your cunt sweetly, lude noises echoing about your bedroom as your juices soak the metal of his wrist.

"Jesus," Bucky comments and you reach a hand between your thighs to hold at his forearm, pushing his fingers deeper into your heat with a broken whine, "I know, I know."

You almost jump when the scratchy hairs of his beard tickle the soft insides of your thighs, pulling a choked gasp from your wet lips.

His tongue is hot against your folds, licking hot and thick stripes up your cunt. He curls his tongue past your folds, sucking at your heat.

Bucky's metal hand holds you at your thigh, keeping you still as you try to push yourself back into him.

Reaching your hand between your thighs again, you slip your hand around his metal forefinger wrapped around your thigh, to which he drops his hand from your skin to weave your hot fingers with his cool ones.

"Buck...haaa," you coo, dropping your forehead to the hot skin of your forearm, "Feels good," you manage, nearly drooling onto the sheets below you.

Bucky hums into your cunt, nodding his head and bumping his nose against your folds, pulling another sob from your lips, "Mhm."

You blame your quick rise to your peak on the stress of the day as you untangle your hand from his and push him away by his forehead, panting as he takes ahold of your wrist, circling your pulse point.

"Y'okay?" his brows furrow and you fight the urge to teasingly trace the crevices of his face that they make.

You nod against your arm, eyes fluttering in content, "Just need a moment."

Bucky nods, smoothing his cool fingers over your hot and sticky thigh, "M'kay," he presses a kiss to your folds before slipping the top of your panties further to the side, and before you're able to cover yourself, he a presses a soft kiss to your puckered hole.

"James!" you squeal, immediately dropping your butt down and reaching back with both hands to cover yourself.

"What?" Bucky laughs, "S'not like I haven't seen it before," he adds, leaning down and biting the plush of your ass cheek teasingly.

You burrow your face into the sheets with a groan, kicking the tips of your feet under your butt.

Bucky grabs one of your toes through your sock, only letting go when you squeal and tuck yourself into a small ball.

Through a chuckle, Bucky stands up form the bed and pulls your hips up along with him, holding you still as he runs his fingers up and down your folds again, earning a weak mewl from you.

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, "Y'want some more?"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes smut

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cupcakeinat0r · 1 year ago

Text

<3 Valentine’s Breakfast w/ DadBod!Miguel <3

[NSFW]

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying on top of you. This is usually how it is. You start the night laying on his hairy and soft chest, but after tossing and turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position. It sort of just happens. You believe it’s Miguel’s need to protect you in every sense of the word, so he just absentmindedly engulfs you in his sleep.

Miguel was a big man. In every way. It was sort of hard to breathe when he was on you like this.

But that was more than ok. In fact, you thrived on the feeling of all his body weight on yours, his face snuggled deep into the crook of your neck and his Herculean arms wrapped around you, not too tight, but just enough so that you weren’t going anywhere. And yes, his snoring was loud, but you learned to love it, it becoming the music to your ears on mornings like this.

It only takes you a few seconds for it to click.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smile to yourself, excited about all things you have planned for Miguel. But first… to figure out how the hell you were gonna get Gigantor off of you.

Unable to move, your head isolated, you look around for ideas. With your free hand, you reach for the blanket, slowly pulling it off of him in hopes he’ll move off of you to wrap himself in it again. Your idea succeeds, and he frees you just enough for you to sneak off the bed.

In the most cautious way humanely possible, you sneak out of the room (not before you softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen. You weren’t too worried, though. Miguel didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did, not even a geographical disaster could wake him. You were safe.

You start listing in your head all the things you remembered you wanted to make him.

Your hands were ace in the kitchen. Everything you made, Miguel loved. One of his favorite parts of the day was coming home after a long day of work and into the arms of his cute sweet little housewife, a plate of delicious warm food already ready for him on the table. It’s kinda funny; it’s you he blames for his weight gain, but you always reply with how much you absolutely love him that way, accompanied by a kiss and a playful smack to his juicy butt (which has also gotten larger, props to you).

You slave away in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect, even down to exacting the edges of your heart-shaped pancakes, which matched the heart-shaped strawberry slices.

You go to check on the sleeping giant. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow (thinking it’s you no doubt). Aw.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view.

His dark wavy hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His 5 o'clock shadow framing his perfect, dark, plump lips. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each dad snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge cock tightening his briefs. You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good. You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals…

It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Miguel, who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor.

You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up. You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan.

Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support.

You start to feel Miguel‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow.

His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use. You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him.

Faint ‘Ffuuuckkk’s and ‘Mmm’s were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing.

You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

“Well,” his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, “Good morning to you too, Mamita… Mmfuck.”

He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein. You pull away with a wet smack before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy”, in the most sing song tone of voice.

Miguel tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, “ay, beba, so thoughtful n’ good to me…do that again...” he pleads.

“Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it.

“Oh-oh fuck… si, just like that, mamita, así, goood girllll.” his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp (it practically covers your entire head), gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again. “Aw shit…. I’m close, mama, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princesa…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every single drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, “Open,” and you do as he asks, “diablo, mami, eres tan sucia.” You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, “Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo-“

“Oye, whoa whoa whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Miguel guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat. “I’m not done with you yet, nena,” he mumbles against your lips.

He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere. Sientate.” He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your throne.

You wince, now realizing you forgot that you had meant to shave last night.

“Babe, noooo wait... I haven’t shaved…”

Miguel furrows his brows, a confused scowl on his face.

“Mama. Look me in the face and tell me if I look like I care.” You begin to smile seeing how Miguel was starting to look genuinely mad at you for saying such a ridiculous thing.

“Now, I said sientate. I’m hungry.” He says sternly.

“You sureee? You really don't have to-”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He commands. This man wasn’t playing any games. He was starving.

Your smile widens at his insistence. Your boyfriend was a real man.

Placing your hands on his hairy, thick body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Miguel’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view.

“So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a melon. “Te amo mucho, you know that, mama? Wanna make you feel good, beba.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Miguel could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world. “N' when I tell you to sit on my face, yo nunca quiero ir ese porqueria, understood?”

His stern tone made both your heart and pussy flutter. “Yessir.”

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again.

One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips.

“Prettiest pussy ever…. y todo es mio. Fuck, you’re so wet, mamita, did I do that?” He speaks mockingly.

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole.

"Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Miguel-"

He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, mama." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy.

Miguel is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side; any effort to submerge his face deeper into your folds. His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his ‘Mmmph’s, the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Miguel wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you. There was no escaping him. A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"B-baby, baby… I- I- c-can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body. The only thing on your mind was Miguel's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further and fueling his hunger. "Mmmph fuck! I won't mama, I won't, don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want," You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Miguel was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you are,” smack, “wakin' me up like this… ay, que ricoooo, sabe tan dulce,” smack, “puta madre, Puedo vivir de este coño y nada más…” both his voice, an octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Miguel drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Miguel finally lets you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths. He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "awww, mi princesita gets all shy when I make her cum, eh?"

"Leave me aloooneeee." With Miguel’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top. With your legs now around his waist, He chuckles at you and goes to kiss your flushed cheeks.

Then he goes in for a sweet, romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his soft tummy against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you. You can feel his cock twitch against your overstimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, princesita. Have I told you how much I love you?” He coos, pure adoration in his eyes.

You manage a soft, tired smile, “Every day. I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I made you breakfast! You must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back down.

“I am… but not for food.”

Safe to say the feast you prepared was cold by the time y’all got to the kitchen<3

Hope u liked it <3 It's a bit longer but I've been thinking alottttt about this tee hee!!!

This is a culmination of my thots and the thots of some of my hot moots, so Tysm @mybvalentine @gltzpzy for the ideas <3

Happy Valentine’s season, my loves!!! Wishing everyone not only a day but a whole new year of love. Not just romantic love, but also the love of your friends, family, and above all, the love for yourself <3

Speak to yourself kindly, treat your heart nicely, and consume all the chocolate!!!! You deserve ittt!!!

P.s. n if u don’t have a Valentine’s, I’ll happily be urs 🤭 MWAH!

- Cupcake xoxo

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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kiwriteswords · 23 days ago

Note

I love the way the marriage of convenience fic turned out!! If you write more about that I will gladly read it! Thb I'm getting obsessive about it 😂

You set it up so well and I have so many questions about what could happen next and what is going through everyone's mind. 😁🥳

Like a Feather [Aaron Hotchner x Reader x Marriage Contract]

Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Thank you for requesting this!! I'm so glad you liked the first one! I'm loving this universe. Trying to navigate how I can make them all flow cohesively without feeling like you need to read them in order. Would love to see more requests for this universe! I feel like I could take it in so many directions! Tags/Warnings: female reader, marriage of convenience, contracted marriage, canon-typical themes, flirty!reader, bold!reader, girly-girl!reader, non-bau!reader, stressed!hotch, mentions of Jack Hotchner, mentions of Haley Hotchner, Traumatized!Hotch, can be read solo if you realize they're forced to live together and are technically married. Summary: For your own safety, you're forced to marry and live with Aaron Hotchner, but his apartment just won't do.

When you’re told, you need to marry a political figure’s daughter to protect her. It could go a million-and-two ways wrong.

When Strauss and every single bureaucratic name stood before Hotch and assigned him of this--so-called, task--he thought of each way this could have gone utterly wrong.

But living with a complete stranger wasn't as bad as it sounded.

Jack took a liking to you quickly. Your past volunteering at children's hospitals and with struggling youth was more than just keeping up political appearances. There was a fun and nurturing side to you that Hotch was glad.

Jack is always and has always been his first priority when this assignment was sprung upon him. How would this affect him? So seeing that it was only helping or aiding in his upbringing, even temporarily, Hotch would take it.

What Hotch did notice is every day he would come home from the BAU, and things would look a wee bit different.

It started with the curtains.

He had long panels that did the job of keeping light out, but one day, he came home, and you had added frills bordering his windows. The once stark and utilitarian drapes now fluttered with soft, feminine edges that seemed to dance lightly with the breeze.

He didn't mention anything, but a week later, there were the throw pillows. What was the point in pillows that took up the entirety of the sofa that you would move just to sit on? They had buttons and cream-colored trim on them, sitting plump across the couch, asserting their presence in every available space.

He went along, noticing more and more touches of you throughout his apartment.

Floral arrangements in vases on every surface added bursts of color where none had been before. A shrubby wreath with a giant bow now adorned the front door, greeting him with an almost jarring cheerfulness each day.

The bathroom's once beige shower curtain was now replaced with a yellow gingham pattern that screamed sunshine, transforming a previously muted space into one that could rival a sunny day in a meadow.

Your bedroom became a reflection of the woman you were--bright and loud, but it began to seep outside of the rest of Hotch's apartment.

Each new addition, each piece of you that filled up his space, was like a small declaration that this arrangement was becoming more real than either of you might have initially expected. The stark lines and muted tones of his world were slowly being overrun by a storm of femininity, each frill and floral arrangement a soft but undeniable takeover of the life he had meticulously organized.

This was no longer just his and Jack’s sanctuary; it was a shared existence, vivid and continuously surprising, much like you.

One day, as Hotch came home from a grueling day at the BAU, he was mentally ready to unwind.

He placed his briefcase by the door and headed straight for the cabinet to pour himself a finger or two of whiskey--a small ritual that marked the transition from his work life to whatever semblance of personal life he could muster under the current circumstances.

As he reached for a glass, he paused, sensing an unusual commotion at the entrance. Turning around, he saw two burly security guards maneuvering through his doorway, carefully balancing a Tiffany lamp between them. The sight of these stern men handling such a dainty, stained glass-colored item was incongruous enough to leave Hotch momentarily dumbstruck.

He had become familiar with the two men--your bodyguards that followed you even before this crisis at hand, but they often remained quiet. Taking shifts at the front door of the apartment.

The part of Hotch that was riddled with trauma and overthought every move for his son was silently grateful for the added protection for his family as well, but seeing them like this? They didn’t seem like the type of men who could fend off a fly with the way they so awkwardly manhandled the delicate glass.

He watched, eyebrows raised, as you directed them with a flurry of indecisiveness. "There...no, there," you called out from across the room, pointing first to one corner and then another, clearly struggling to find the perfect spot for the new addition.

Hotch's curiosity overcame his initial reserve, and he approached, asking, "What's the lamp for when we already have"--he paused to make a quick inventory--"five perfectly good working light fixtures?"

You placed your hands on your hips, your expression mixing defiance and a hint of amusement. "This lamp is not just functional; it’s beautiful and decorative," you explained with a firm nod, as if that settled the matter.

Hotch glanced at the lamp, then around the room at the various changes you had implemented since moving in. "I've noticed all of the little touches," he acknowledged, his voice neutral but his mind reeling from the rapid feminization of his previously stark and only functional space

You gave him a faux pout, a playful challenge in your eyes. "Don’t you like it?"

"It’s not that I don’t like it," Hotch started, searching for the right words that wouldn’t offend. "It’s just very...” His voice trailed off, words like 'girly' and 'feminine' hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he opted for a safer, "different from what I’m used to."

He’d like to tell you that this wasn’t the set for some Better Homes & Gardens photoshoot, but he figured he’d keep that to himself.

You quickly interjected, a hint of seriousness underlining your playful tone. "This place was a home to two men before I was forced to move here, and now I'm being forced to live here. A little warmth never killed anybody, you know." Your voice softened, reminding both of you of the odd circumstances that had thrown your lives together in this compact, evolving space.

Hotch took a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considered your perspective. The lamp, with its colorful glass and intricate metalwork, suddenly didn’t seem like just an intrusion of your taste into his life, but more like a symbol of the blending that was slowly, inevitably happening between your worlds.

"Alright," he conceded with a small, conceding smile, "let’s find the perfect spot for it together."

As you both moved to adjust the lamp, Hotch realized that these small concessions, these little adjustments to his environment, were not just about accommodating you, but about finding a way to coexist peacefully, respectfully, and maybe even harmoniously under the most unusual circumstances.

His apartment had purely served a place for he and Jack to rest their head at the end of the day. Most of the decor were things that he had leftover from his home with Haley--mostly things that weren’t painful to look at. Various photos, trinkets, and books. But that was about it.

His idea of art was the sailboats Jack loved to paint or color. The walls were the same brown color from when he purchased this apartment years before. Everything about it was purely functional. Not frill or unnecessary bit about it.

He hated to think, in some ways, you might be forcing him to finally greet this part of him that he’d prefer to keep in a metaphorical storage box on a shelf somewhere.

---

Hotch walked into the BAU the next day, his demeanor as serious as ever, but with an unusual addition--a feather lodged in his hair. He began to present the new case in the roundtable room, fully focused on the task at hand, unaware of the curious artifact adorning his head.

JJ, always observant, interrupted him mid-sentence. “Hotch, come here for a second,” she beckoned with a slight smile, motioning him closer. Confused but compliant, Hotch approached, and she delicately plucked the feather from his hair, holding it up for him and the rest of the team to see.

The team erupted in a mixture of laughter and bewildered expressions. “What is that?” Morgan asked, trying to stifle his chuckle.

Hotch let out a deep sigh, the kind that spoke volumes before words even formed. “It’s from the new throw pillows on my couch,” he explained, a trace of agitation seeping into his voice. “Feather-filled. I fell asleep there last night.”

Emily quickly chimed in, her tone half teasing, half serious. “Woah, woah, woah, you can't complain when this girl was ripped from her life--”

Morgan interrupted with a smirk, “--a very cushy life,” emphasizing the luxury she was used to, “to live with Mr. Functional here.”

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, his brow furrowing in frustration, but Spencer was quick to add his perspective, “I’ve seen Hotch’s apartment, and they’re right. It’s about as warm and welcoming as an interrogation room.”

The team’s laughter filled the room, but beneath the humor, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie and support. Hotch, realizing the futility of his frustration in the face of their united front, let out another sigh, this time softer, conceding the point.

“Alright, alright,” Hotch conceded, a small smile breaking through his usually stoic facade. “Maybe a few feathers aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

---

Returning from a local case that had wrapped up, Hotch walked back into his office without a thought, ready to sink into the routine of paperwork that awaited him. The room was dim, shrouded in the early evening gloom that only the setting sun breached through the slats of the blinds. As he moved to switch on the light, his hand paused mid-air when he noticed a figure reclining on his couch. It was you.

"What are you doing here?" His tone carried an edge, the surprise mixing with a flicker of irritation as he flicked on the light, flooding the room with stark brightness.

You sat up, blinking against the sudden light, your voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I was bored at your apartment," you explained. "It’s lonely there, and this was the only place my bodyguards agreed I could go for a change of pace."

Hotch closed the door with a soft click and set his briefcase down with a heavier thud. The lines of his face were drawn tight, his mind racing through the security protocols and the weight of the responsibility he bore. "You know it's not just about boredom," he started, his voice firm as he leaned against his desk, facing you. "The threats against you are real and severe. We've already seen what they’re capable of. People have been injured, some killed. This isn’t a game."

Your expression softened, regret flickering across your features. "I know, Hotch. I do," you replied quietly. "It's just...hard, feeling so cut off from everything and everyone."

Hotch sighed, the initial resistance in his posture easing slightly, though his expression remained serious. "I understand that it’s difficult," he conceded, his tone softening. "But taking risks by moving around isn’t the solution. We need to ensure your safety, and sometimes that means making hard choices--choices that might not be the most comfortable."

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words, but a hint of rebellion lingered in your eyes. There was a pause, a charged moment where the gravity of the situation seemed to hang heavily between you. "I get it," you said finally, your tone a mix of acceptance and frustration. "I just wish there was a way to make this feel less like a prison."

Hotch straightened, his expression stern as he considered your words. He understood the isolation you felt; he’d seen it many times in witness protection situations, the toll it took on individuals. Yet, he couldn’t compromise on your safety.

"We might find a balance," he suggested cautiously, his voice firm. "We can explore safe activities, perhaps more interaction with approved personnel, or even secure outings. I’ll discuss options with the team--see what arrangements we can make to keep you engaged but protected."

Your face brightened slightly, a spark of hope igniting in your eyes. "Thank you, Hotch," you said, a genuine smile briefly touching your lips for the first time since the conversation began.

"As for being here," Hotch continued, his tone still carrying an edge of authority, recognizing the need for rules even within this concession, "you’re welcome to stay in the office whenever necessary, as long as it’s coordinated. We’ll set some ground rules, make it work."

You nodded, relief apparent but quickly tempered by a sharp retort. "I’d appreciate that, really. And frankly, this place might be a fortress compared to your apartment," you quipped, challenging him with a playful yet piercing look. "Plus, your entertainment setup is tragic. Have you ever heard of When Harry Met Sally? It’s a classic, and you don’t even have it. What kind of living situation is this?"

Hotch raised an eyebrow, the challenge in your tone bringing a small, wry smile to his face. "I wasn’t aware that my DVD collection would be under review," he responded dryly. "I’ll make sure to update my library to meet your standards."

As Hotch watched you settle back onto the couch, the interaction had sparked a realization in him. This wasn't just about providing security; it was about accommodating a life--not just any life, but one thrust into his care under extraordinary circumstances.

He didn’t know it yet, but you were teaching him a whole new way to look at life.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

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tiredmamaissy · 9 months ago

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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI

Labor of Love - Part III

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊

Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.

<- Previous

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. “Brother.”

Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.

“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call.

Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste.

“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.

The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic.

Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now.

“Your mate is in labour, tak.”

Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland.

Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.

“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.

Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for.

But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this.

Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.

He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are.

You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction.

Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm.

The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.

“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.

You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.

Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief.

“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.

“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”

“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”

“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.”

Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine.

“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”

You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born.

“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.”

“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”

Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer.

“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you.

When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.

You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound.

Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams.

“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.”

“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.

“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him.

“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.”

Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly.

The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument.

“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.

Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy.

Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.

“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you.

And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.

“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more.

“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support.

“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his.

“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump.

“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.

“Tewti [whoa].”

It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry.

Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest.

“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”

With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.

Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief.

“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush.

You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks.

“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened.

His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.

Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt.

“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail.

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle.

“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.

“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him.

“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.

You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump.

He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you.

But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.

“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.

You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.

“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”

Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.

He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock.

“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.”

“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.”

You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether.

“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation.

“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?”

You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.

“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!”

“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice.

His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg.

Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time.

“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.”

“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position.

“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”

As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with.

“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.

Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.

But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”

Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.

And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.

Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open.

“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling.

Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.

“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave.

Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.

The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank.

Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface.

“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.

Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.

He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out.

Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear.

“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm.

But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down.

The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes.

Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them.

“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result.

“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers.

As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.

You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment.

“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop.

“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.”

“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”

“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”

“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son.

“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!”

“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.

This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.

Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more.

“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.”

“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right.

Maybe you can’t do this.

“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.

“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss.

“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”

Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.

He’s right there. So close.

“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.

Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen.

No wonder your progression has stalled.

“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there.

“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous.

“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”

“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.

Then your belly stiffens.

You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state.

“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”

“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].”

“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!”

“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist.

Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.

He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too.

Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain.

It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable.

“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.

You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge.

“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily.

Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame.

“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”

Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?

You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts.

“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and setting a steady breathing pattern.

‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.

“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”

But yet, you feel yourself giving in.

“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out.

Now.

You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after.

Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out.

He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him.

“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases.

Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you.

“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.”

Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.

You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions.

It’s incredible to know that your body created this life.

“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.

“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?”

You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.

He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder.

“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery.

You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven.

“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.

“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting.

“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.

“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple.

“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this.

“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”

A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water.

“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”

You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.

You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands.

Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.

“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.”

Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way.

“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.”

You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold.

Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.

Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.

Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms.

“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too.

Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms.

“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”

Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months.

Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance.

“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily.

Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.

With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time.

“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.

You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.

“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions.

“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.

“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open.

Snap.

Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her.

The first eclipse is starting.

Is that how long this has gone on for?

His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?

He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.

It’s your family—and his.

“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.”

“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.

You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest.

“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”

“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.

His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.

Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective.

“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.”

“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].”

Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.”

Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.

"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."

Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.

"Toto, that is very kind—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."

Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.

A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.

“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.

She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.

“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”

She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.

“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”

You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.

A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister.

“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look.

“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member.

“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.

You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.

Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.”

Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out.

“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.”

“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand.

Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.

Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer.

“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.”

They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features.

“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”

You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.”

“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.”

“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.

Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.

You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”

You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself.

“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”

Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.

“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice.

The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces.

“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see.

Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.

“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe.

952 notes · View notes

wordsarelife · 8 months ago

Text

—superman

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: theo won’t leave you alone after you broke your leg, you’re not sure you appreciate it that much

warnings: leg injury, but nothing else i think

students were jumping to the side as pansy parkinson was rushing through the halls of hogwarts, eager to spot the dark-haired boy she had been looking for for the past ten minutes.

“theo!” pansy called when she spotted him in the library, chatting away with the rest of their friends.

“hey, pansy” theo greeted but he furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed her expression. “are you alright?”

“it’s not me” pansy shook her head “it’s y/n”

the chair made a loud sound as it was pushed over the floor as theo stood up abruptly “is she alright?”

“she’s in the infirmary” pansy turned around and theo was close behind her, following her back out of the library and down the hall.

“what happened?” theo asked as pansy started moving even faster. “pansy”

“i think it’s something serious” pansy answered “she send me a patronus to get you and meet her there”

“shit” theo was brushing a hand through his hair, his face having lost all its color. they were rushing through the hallway and theo was trying his best to not fall into a sprint, fearing that pansy would not be able to keep up.

finally, the door to the infirmary flew open and theo and pansy walked into the room. a few curtains had been drawn close and madam pomfrey looked up at the sudden commotion.

“mister nott, miss parkinson” she greeted friendly and like she had suspected them both to arrive here soon

“where is y/n?” pansy asked out of breath

madam pomfrey smiled and pointed to the bed a few ones down. the curtain was closed and theo, closely followed by pansy, rushed forward, pulling it to the side.

“hey guys” you were sitting in bed, eating some jell-o. the rest of your body was under the blanket and a bit of your foot, wrapped up in blue bandages, showed up at the end.

“are you alright?” theo asked confused

“oh yeah” you laughed, making a throwaway hand gesture “i’m perfectly fine. poppy has been keeping me company”

“poppy?” pansy repeated confused. her and theo exchanged a glance, while you were busy waving at madam pomfrey

“this jell-o is amazing!”

“thank you, dear” she smiled and theo watched you gulp another giant piece of bright green jell-o.

“do you guys want some?” you held the bowl in their direction but both of them shook their heads.

“what happened? why are you even here?” theo asked

“yeah” pansy added, crossing her arms “and why do you call madam pomfrey poppy?” she whispered

“well, i fell down my broom” you brushed the blanket to the side, exposing your bandaged foot “it’s broken and it hurt like hell to put back in place, but whatever” you shrugged, slurping the rest of your jell-o down

“what?” theo and pansy exclaimed at the same time.

“i’ve been here for some time” you nodded “so poppy and i became kinda friends i guess”

“so when exactly did you have that accident?” theo asked exasperated

“oh, like this morning?” you wondered “right before classes began”

“it’s almost seven” pansy noted “that’s like ten hours ago, y/n”

“she’s right” theo nodded “you only thought about calling us now?”

“well you were in class and then i slept for a while, so yeah” you shrugged your shoulders, while your friends exchanged confused glances.

"so, y/n" madam pomfrey said when she came back to your bed "i'd say you're good to go. i got you a few more pain potions from professor snape that you can take whenever you feel like you need some, but apart from that you should be alright. we can remove the cast in two weeks, thanks to the quick healing potion i gave you"

"thank you, poppy"

the woman nodded, before she called for a house elf, who brought you crutches you could use during the time your leg needed to heal.

"you're free to take her back to the common room" madam pomfrey instructed pansy and theo. "she needs a bit of rest, but she should be alright to go back to classes on monday"

"so soon?" theo's eyes widened and the protectiveness was evident in his voice.

"of course, mr nott" madam pomfrey laughed at the boys eagerness "we don't want her to miss too much, or grow bored in her dorm, but i'm sure that y/n will gracefully accept any assistance you're willing to provide"

she really shouldn't have said that last part, because theo eagerly nodded. at that moment you had thought that theo's help would be a blessing, but over the coming week you quickly learned how wrong your judgement had been.

he spend every minute close to you, and with that there was no exception. even when you went to the toilet, he was waiting in front of the door for you to return.

he carried your books to every class, even if you didn't share it and made sure to wait after it was over. he often even carried you around, claiming that it had to be far too straining for you to walk around on crutches the whole day.

you loved theo for all the care he was directing your way, but you were also getting tired of it.

it wasn't until thursday that you were able to escape his sight for the first time. and that was only thanks to pansy and mattheo, who had promised you to keep him occupied so you could slip away.

you arrived at the infirmary quicker than you had thought was possible due to your injury, but you were sure it was because of the fear that theo was already chasing you.

"y/n" madam pomfrey said surprised when she saw you standing in the door.

"poppy" you ecxlaimed relieved at the sight of the older woman. "you have to give me something that'll make my leg heal faster, please"

"i can't" madam pomfrey shook her head "the healing potion i gave you a few days ago is the quickest there is. it's only one more week, i'm sure you can wait that long"

"no" you shook your head "another week is way too long"

"i'm sorry, but you'll have to endure that" madam pomfrey excused "healing takes time, sweetheart, like everything else"

"okay, sure" you nodded "can you take me back then? it's probably not beneficial for me to walk around and possibly jeopardize the healing"

madam pomfrey laughed and you send her a sulky look, before she suddenly stopped.

"oh" she exclaimed surprised "you were serious"

"of course" you crossed your arms, which was kind of hard with the crutches still in hand "i wouldn't joke about such a thing, poppy"

"but why would you—"

"here you are" you turned around slowly, like voldemort himself was standing behind you. it wasn't voldemort, but you had to admit, that you would've preferred him.

"theo" you smiled through clenched teeth.

"i searched half the castle for your whereabouts" now that he mentioned it, he did sound out of breath. "walking through the whole castle must've been tiring for you, why didn't you ask me to come with you? i could've carried you if necessary"

you turned your head to look at madam pomfrey, who seemed to slowly understand your situation as she looked a bit disturbed about theo's monologue. you send her a look to the extent of: this is what i had to deal with all week, before you turned back to the boy behind you.

"it's alright, theo" you smiled "i'm fine, really"

"are you sure, love?" theo furrowed his brows "because we do have to walk all the way back and down to the dungeons. you know what? maybe it would be smarter for me to carry you" he was already bending down, a hand on the small of your back, while his other was reaching for your healthy leg.

your eyes widened at that and you jumped away, so his hand was grabbing the air. theo furrowed his brows, but did not say anything, as he walked a step closer and tried the same again, with you hopping away just before he could reach your leg with his hand once more.

"what are you doing?" theo muttered as he grew embarrassed of your little charade in front of madam pomfrey.

madam pomfrey was grinning at the ridiculous dance the two of you were acting out in front of her eyes. she almost felt sorry for theo as he helplessly tried to lift you off the ground, back bend and his body in an umcomfortable stretch.

"what are you—" he reached around you and you quickly slipped away, hiding behind madam pomfrey. "y/n" theo sighed, when he looked up.

"i can walk on my own" you said defensively, one crutch in your hand, the other laying on the ground beside theo.

"but it's easier if i just carry you" theo pleaded "come on, don't be difficult"

you perked your nose up, offended by his words.

theo sighed again. "sorry, that was stupid" he shrugged "can i now help you please?"

you sighed too, exchanging a look with madam pomfrey, who shrugged, before you nodded. you hopped back in theo's direction. collecting your other clutch from the ground before your raised both of them up, waiting for theo to lift you.

"see?" theo mumbled, when you both had said goodbye to madam pomfrey and were on your way back to the slytherin common room. "it's way easier this way"

"yeah, yeah" you nodded, still a bit offended about the way he held you for completely uncapable. you knew he meant good, but god you couldn't wait to get rid of this stupid cast.

he sat you down on the couch, your leg prepped up beside you on a pillow and enlightened the flame in the fireplace.

"thank you, theo" you said reluctantly. "i really do appreciate your help, even if i think you could tone it down a bit"

theo smiled. "it's just who i am, i feel like it's my obligation to help my friends if they're hurt"

"it isn't" you assured "but thank you"

you had laid back your head, lazily closing your eyes. theo was right, walking around all day was tiring for you.

"don't be a baby, draco" pansy's voice made both theo and you shriek up. you had fallen asleep, his head on top of yours.

"it hurts terribly" draco said defensively.

"i can't be that bad when she let you go back to the common room after two hours in the hospital wing" mattheo remarked.

pansy and mattheo had walked in first. behind them draco... on crutches!

"i don't even understand that! y/n was there for a whole day"

"well, y/n's not such a nuisance" pansy remarked, dashing out of the way, before draco could hit her with one of his crutches.

"what happened?" you asked and it was only then that the three of them noticed theo and you.

"i broke my leg" draco answered "it was a terrible accident, actually"

"was it?" mattheo had to hold back his laughter. "we were trying to finish our divination project, when draco said it was stupid, spilled his tea and promptly slipped on it"

"yeah, as i said, terrible accident"

"deserved accident" pansy corrected "i was not finished with that cup"

"whatever" draco threw himself down on the cushion beside you "the next two weeks are going to be torture.“

"don't worry" you smiled "i bet theo is burning to help you. are you gonna carry him around too, theo?" you asked, turning to your brunette friend and trying hard to stifle your laughter at the expression on his face.

"oh that would be pretty helpful" draco muttered, before theo had a chance to intervene.

"i don't think i—" theo tried explaining, but you interrupted him.

"it's just who i am, i feel like it's my obligation to help my friends if they're hurt" you quoted his own words back to him, voice a bit lower than usual "weren't that your words?"

"i can't carry draco around" theo protested again.

"why not?" mattheo smiled smugly, having witnessed all the times theo had insisted on carrying you. "you did carry y/n around a lot"

"that's different"

"how is that different?" pansy wondered. you could see that she was enjoying the way, theo was helplessly searching for a way out of this conversation. "y/n's leg is broken, so is draco's"

"you can't really expect me to do this, guys" theo laughed uncomfortably, his laughter quickly dying out at all your serious expressions.

"don't you love me, mate?" draco asked disappointed and clearly high on medicine.

theo's face turned a shade paler. "draco, it's not that i don't care—"

"come on, theo," draco pouted dramatically, "i'm your best mate. plus, it's your obligation to help friends who are hurt, remember?"

you almost had to giggle. draco was acting totally out of character, clearly being the cause of all the medication madam pomfrey had given him. you could remember how you had felt after..

pansy crossed her arms, thoroughly enjoying theo's discomfort. "you can't argue with that, theo."

theo sighed deeply, realizing there was no way out. "fine, but only if you promise to stop calling me out for being too helpful."

draco's eyes lit up. "deal! now, could you please carry me to my bed? i think the couch isn't comfortable enough for my poor leg."

suppressing a groan, theo bent down to lift draco. as he did, draco whispered, "be gentle, theo. i’m very fragile right now."

"more than usual?" you laughed and draco crossed his arms, offended at the joke.

mattheo, pansy and you struggled to contain your laughter as theo gingerly picked draco up, muttering under his breath about "suffering for friendship."

draco grinned as theo carried him out of the common room. pansy turned to you, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "honestly, this might be the best entertainment we've had in weeks."

"agreed," you laughed, watching the spectacle.

you all shared a good laugh, your worries about theo's overprotectiveness momentarily forgotten. when theo returned, looking thoroughly exhausted, you couldn't help but smirk.

"enjoy your workout, theo?" you teased.

theo shot you a tired but good-natured glare. "just remember, y/n, i'm doing this out of love."

pansy snorted. "and draco’s enjoying every minute of it out of sheer spite."

"i think he'll come back to his senses tomorrow" mattheo announced, before he, quickly followed by pansy, excused himself to bed.

"in all seriousness" theo said, turning to you after your friends had left "i did it out of love for you too"

you smiled at him, admittedly feeling a bit bad about the way you had treated him, even though he was just trying to help you. "i'm sorry" you excused "i shouldn't have been as dramatic as i was, you were trying to be nice and i ruined it"

"i wouldn't want to change a single thing about you, you know?" theo shrugged "i admire that you always handle things on your own, but it was really courageous and sweet of you to accept my help."

"thanks" you grinned "and just so you know, i did it out of love"

theo's smile widened, his gaze softening as he looked at you. there was a moment of silent understanding between the two of you, a mutual recognition of feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface. slowly, he leaned in closer, his hand gently reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

your heart skipped a beat as his warm breath tickled your skin. the air around you seemed to crackle with anticipation as he closed the gap between you. his lips met yours in a tender kiss, a gentle affirmation of the unspoken emotions that had brought you both here.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, your faces flushed with a mixture of excitement and contentment.

“i’m glad i finally did that” he admitted.

"me too," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper, your fingers gently tracing the contours of his cheek. "but you could've kissed me without hurting your back all week"

"well, any reason to be close to you is a good one" he grinned sheepishly, before he kissed you again.

582 notes · View notes

midnightwriter21 · 2 years ago

Text

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men having a demon!SO that’s immune to sunlight pt.1

characters: fem!reader x rengoku, giyuu

PT 2 with Sanemi HERE

AN: the long awaited request is finally here!! sorry for the delay! im in college and finals week was crazy! but the semester is over and i'm ready to get back to it with a bunch of new content for you guys! <3

RENGOKU

when he comes home from a mission to find the house completely trashed and a trail of blood leading to the bedroom he freezes

his first thought is that you're dead

someone or something has broken in

and he wasn't here to protect you

immediately blames himself

and poor kyo just can't force himself to walk in the bedroom only to discover your broken bleeding body

his heart couldn't take it

its not until he hears movement and small noises of pain that he pushes the bedroom door open

only to discover you hiding in the corner of the room covered with a blanket

relief

until he pulls the blanket from your head to see what you've turned into

he doesn't react

doesn't talk

doesn't move

doesn't even breathe

just stares at you

until you manage to croak out his name

this snaps his mind into high gear

immediately thoughts of the young Kamado girl are running through his head

she has never hurt a human and seems to do just fine

and if you were going to harm him you would have done it already

quickly pulls you into his arms, making sure to avoid the sunlight peaking through the curtains and carries you to the bed to set you down

scribbles a note to the head of the corps to inform him of your condition

and spends the rest of the day and that night comforting and reassuring you because of what had to have been a traumatic night

a week or so passes

you fall back into your old routine of caring for the house

and its quite obvious that you're becoming depressed

no longer able to enjoy the warmth of the sun and being cooped up in the house for your own safety

it isnt until a young man wearing the head of a boar bursts headfirst through the window

breaking the glass, ripping down the curtains

with a "comin through!"

that you realize the sunlight doesn't harm you like it does to other demons

leave it to inosuke lmao

when kyo returns home from another mission around noon

imagine his surprise when his demon SO bursts through the front door into the sun

and into his arms

takes a minute for him to process that you're not burning up

"oh my god we have to get you inside NOW"

the poor man is having a heartattack

but then he sees your smile and hears your laugh for the first time since the attack

finally he's able to realize that the sun has no effect on you

and he's picking you up and swinging you around in a giant hug

i just know he gives the best hugs

i'd let him crush me to death in one

of course kyo is still sometimes crushed with guilt

he blames himself for your transformation in the first place

but the most important thing is that you're safe and happy again

GIYUU

why can't this man ever just be happy

when you don't show up at your usual meeting place with Giyuu in between missions he knows somethings up

he rushes to your home

and there you are

sitting on the steps in front of your house

covered in blood and in tears

it isn't until he gets closer that he realizes what has happened

he has no words

everyone that giyuu has ever loved has been taken from him

and he allowed himself to love you

thats why this has happened

blames himself even though it obviously not his fault

still not speaking he looks at the sky to see the sun

and then back at you

a demon

who isn't affected by the sunlight in the slightest

and isn't attacking him

and then he disappears

when he returns several hours later it's dark outside

and with him he's brought Shinobu and the Kamado siblings

one of which is a demon

Shinobu checks you over and determines that the blood you are covered in is indeed yours

but any wounds you had have already healed

Nezuko senses what you are but seems to know that you're docile and snuggles up to your side as a comfort

and Giyuu just watches quietly

when Nezuko has fallen asleep her brother picks her up giving you a sad smile before he leaves

Giyuu helps you stand and brings you inside

he runs a bath so you can clean urself off

and goes about cleaning the house which was destroyed during your attack

it isn't until you're in bed that Giyuu lays behind you, tugs you close to him, and speaks to you for the first time

"i am staying with you. and i WILL turn you back."

and those two sentences bring you all the comfort in the world

#demon slayer #anime #demon slayer x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer headcanons #tomioka giyu x reader #giyuu x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro rengoku x oc #giyuu tomioka x reader

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specsthesecond · 7 months ago

Text

Witch Troubles #3

It's a fairly common practice among witches to form pacts with demons.

The witch gains a stronger connection to magic and in exchange the demon gains easier access to the mortal realm.

You've debated this decision for awhile and you finally think you're ready to forge your own pact. Worst case scenario is the demon refuses your offer, which would be embarrassing but not the end of the world.

You shut the door of your room, close the black out curtains and light a few candles. Squinting at the diagram of the summoning circle in your grimoir you try to replicate it perfectly on the old wooden floorboards in white chalk. When it's done you dust off your hands and place the candles in the right places around the circle along with a good amount of enchanted salt around the circumference for your protection. You stand up and take a breath before reciting the ancient words in your book while channeling all your energy into the circle.

The flames burn higher, so hot you have to shrink back a little. It takes all your effort and concentration to keep the chant going without misspeaking or burning the house down. A giant fire now billows in the centre of the circle, something large rises from the middle. You finish the spell and the flames gradually flicker away to reveal exactly the entity you were trying to summon. The little candles around the circle are the only source of light now, barely illuminating your guest. Smoke smoulders off its skin as it rises to full height and stares right at you with it's flaming eyes.

The demon, male it seems, stands in the middle of the summoning circle as tall as your book shelf and just about as wide. True to the drawings and diagrams in your texts he stands on two thick furry goat-like legs. The soft looking tuft at the end of his long thin tail swishes against the old floorboards as they creak under his weight. The rest of his body is charcoal black but otherwise fairly human save for the large goat-like skull that is his head. Beautiful horns, much too majestic for a demon, sprout from the white bone and curl into a thick loop on either side of his skull.

In short; he's the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

Two flaming pits behind the eye holes in the skull serve as eyes, they burn red and hot like the flames of hell as he glares down at you. You assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell.

You clap your grimoir shut, unable to look away from the demon yet. He seems the same, quietly observing you.

"Good evening, I'm sure you know why I've summoned you."

You say as calmly as possible. The demon looks you up and down and hums lowly, sceptical.

He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. You have to use all your self control not to look down at the incredibly distracting package he's carrying between his legs as it bobs with the movement. Obviously you were prepared for him to be naked, demons don't wear clothes but actually having to practice that self-control is another thing entirely.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the demon speaks, low and gravely like you expected.

"Witches used to dance for us around fires, bathe in the blood of sacrifices, throw orgies. This is all I get for my pact proposal?"

That's not what you expected. You were expecting some doubt sure but he sounds... offended? He's complaining?

"I don't need to do any of that to show you my worth. You can already sense my magic capabilities, I can show you- ."

He growls again. When he speaks his jaw bone doesn't move, the voice sounds like it reverberates around the skull on its way out.

"Its about devotion, witch. You show me your devotion and I'll give mine in return. No one cares for presentation anymore."

Who needs presentation? Sure, devotion is important in a pact but he's being ridiculous. You look around the room for a moment before saying flatly,

"My apologies but I will not be sacrificing anything or throwing any orgies and I cannot dance."

The demon scoffs and adjusts his crossed arms, thick biceps flexing as he does.

"All witches dance. Your ancestors where very good at it."

You scoff, telling him about your magic capabilities definitely isn't going to work. Why'd you have to get a difficult demon? Why couldn't you get a normal power-hungry one?

"Are you truly that compelled by naked dancing women?"

You attempt to needle him in hopes of avoiding what you know is inevitable. He doesn't respond, just stands there expectantly.

Some demons may agree to pacts based only on the power of the witch but others don't care for power and value the devotion of the act much more. You were very much hoping for the former but you're going to have to deal with what you got.

After a few moments of staring at eachother you finally crack and bend down to make quick work of your shoes and socks. You dropped your skirt around your ankles, take a deep breath and slide your panties down your legs. You see the demon shift his weight in your peripheral but you don't look at him as you unbutton your blouse and unclip your bra. You leave your black pointy hat on your head, assuming that's part of the appeal.

You only look back at him when you're completely naked, standing Infront of him and crossing your arms over your tits, mirroring his own stance.

He seems amused at that, You can see the little flames in his skull move up and down in a way that indicates he's soaking in your nude body.

"Unfortunately, dancing naked around a fire was not passed down to me like the magic was."

"A pity."

You scowl and the demon huffs smoke through the holes in his skull, chuckling.

"You're a witch, magic exists in your very veins. Use it. Caress your body. Sway your hips. Feel the power in your body and worship it as you would a god."

He says it like it's incredibly obvious and you actually feel inclined to listen to him. You close your eyes and try to "feel the power" whatever that means. You uncross your arms and place them on your thighs, slowly moving them up your waist and back down again.

Your skin feels especially sensitive being completely bare in front of such a powerful being, who is also naked. Just the light touch of your hand makes your skin prickle as you move your fingers slowly across yourself.

You start to arch and sway, hands moving up your thighs, across your stomach, along your neck. You free yourself, offering your body to this demon. The demon growls lowly and says in a deeper tone than before,

"The point of the pact is the connection. You summoned me, This is your pact to forge so show me your devotion."

His fiery eyes follow your every move, every sway of your hips and bounce of your tits.

You carefully run your hands from your waist up to your tits, briefly feeling the soft fat before moving up your shoulders. You stretch your arms high, now putting your tits on full display for your demon guest, the attention and cool air makes your nipples harden.

You turn around, your back facing the demon and he huffs irritably at being denied the sight of your perfect tits. His grievances are smothered when you bend down and run your hands up the back of your legs all the way to your ass, gripping the fat just enough to make it jiggle for him.

You can feel the room getting hotter, you can see his cock getting harder and you can feel the wetness In-between your legs as you dance.

You give one last tantalising hip sway before slowly dropping to your knees in front of him, on the edge of the salt circle. You look up at him while sliding your hands up your thighs, from here you have a perfect view of his half hard cock, looking so thick and heavy the sight has you nearly panting like a dog.

You rest your hands behind you, now presenting your entire body to him, tits perked and pussy drooling, devilishly tempting.

"Does that satisfy."

You say gazing up at him sultry gaze flicking down to his cock, you swear you saw it twitch.

"You know exactly what would satisfy me."

His voice is deeper than before, more gutteral and it makes you squirm. You might have been embarrassed about being so open about his effect on you if it wasn't for his obvious arousal for you. You're honestly just glad this is going well so far.

You lean forward, shuffle closer to the salt barrier and stick your tongue out, mouth open and waiting, silently begging for him.

The demon's hand goes to hold his cock immediately and he steps towards the barrier holding his cock out, but before he can place the tip on your hot tongue, you pull back slightly with a sick grin on your face.

The demon tries to grab your face but you retreat further, past the salt circle and therefore out of reach. You look up at his collosal frame with a smug smirk as he growls in irritation and the candle flames flicker violently.

"Don't forget, this is a mutual pact, demon. You don't call the shots... I want to be on top."

"What makes you thin-“

"I'm on top or you can go back home."

He grumbles something unintelligible, shaking his head in disbelief. One hand goes back to his cock idly stroking the thick member as he nods his head, accepting the terms.

You stand and steel yourself before wiping away a portion of the salt line with your foot, breaking the circle. You reach out for his hand and he accepts it with the hand not stroking his dick, stepping out of the circle and into your bedroom. His hands are immediately on your skin, thick fingers running along your waist and down to your hip. His skin is so warm, like the blood running through his veins is boiling hot giving the surface skin a pleasant warmth.

He stares down at you in suspense waiting for your go ahead.

You bring your hands up his chest and around his broad shoulders, and pull him down to your height only to push him down your body until his skull face is right Infront of your pussy. You let him get a good sniff of your smell before pushing him down to the ground with your foot, standing above him looking very tryumphant.

He doesn't have much time to marvel at your figure above him because before he knows it you're sitting on his dick, pussy pressing right against his cock, he bucks on instinct, the wet warmth of your pussy against the heat of his cock makes him let out a gutteral moan.

You slowly rock your hips back and forth the length of his cock, an impressive length but one you could manage. Neither of you can stand the foreplay any longer, his hands grip your waist at the same time you finally slide his cock into your waiting cunt.

You both groan at the feeling as you pop the mushroom head into your cunt and you slide your pussy down to the hilt, feeling every vein of his hot cock against your walls. You're so slick and needy the fat cock slides in with surprisingly little resistance. That makes him chuckle, which you cut off with a deliberate thrust of your hips.

You plant your feet on either side of his waist, moving all the way up back to the tip and then plunging back down again taking him as deep as he'll go. You bounce and hump on this demons fat cock, tits bouncing in tandem, pretty face in the throws of pleasure. It's a sight to see and he loves every minute of it, clutching your hips but letting you control the pace.

The fur covering his legs is soft and warm against your ass as you ride your new pact mate. Your hands rest on his strong chest as you lose yourself even more in the intense pleasure. Panting and groaning, as you approach your high, your thrusts get more frantic as if you're trying to get him even deeper into your cunt. Your eyes are locked onto the way his pretty cock disappears Into to your cunt, the fur at the hilt becoming wet with your slick.

"Ah~ cum inside, cum inside, cum inside me!"

Your frantic pleas are heard when he wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his other hand firmly on your ass pushing into you as deep as possible. You finally cum around the throbbing cock clenching your walls deliciously, pressed into his chest. He cums seconds after you, shooting abnormally hot cum deep inside you. Your body stills as you cum down, his strong arms move you body against him in shallow thrusts as he bucks up into you, riding out his high.

You limply lie on his massive chest catching your breath as you come down, ignoring the drool you left on his pec. You realise he's eerily quiet and look up only to find he's staring at your face in a manner you think is expecant? Only then do you actually realise that his dick hasn't gone down at all. You can't help but laugh, pussy involuntarily clenching making the demon clutch your hips tighter.

"Is this all for me or is it just a demon thing?"

He huffs out camp fire smelling smoke from his skull and leans up into a seated position. The change in position makes his cock adjust and you moan softly at the feeling while grasping his large biceps.

"You've got jokes."

He looks down at you, you try to read his expression but it's really hard when his hands are massaging your hips so nicely and his cock is touching new spots inside you making your head all fuzzy. He smoothly lifts your thighs and flips you both over so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you.

It's such a glorious sight. This massive sexy otherworldly creature staring down at you with such lust. You can't stop yourself from pulling him in closer by the back of his neck and mumbling,

"Do demons kiss?"

The demon huffs again and opens his jaw showing his razor sharp teeth, from the darkness behind the skull comes three appendages, long and wet. Those are his tongues, and you moan a little when you realise that. He leans closer and the prehensile tongues worm their way to your mouth where you greet them, mouth ready and open. All three appendages slip into your mouth to explore and rub against your tongue, it's so messy and gross it makes you clench around his cock.

He grunts and thrusts into you, thrusting his tongues deeper into your mouth making you gag. You stick your head in his open maw, pulling him in closer by his thick horns. You take the tongues with vigor and suck on them like you would a cock. He seems to like this quite a bit as he grabs both your legs and pulls your knees up to your ears, bending you in half and presenting your dripping pussy to him. He starts thrusting his cock much deeper in your pussy than before while thrusting his tongues down your throat simultaneously.

The pleasure is so intense as he gradually speeds up, working up to a brutal pace. He fucks you into the floor, so deep, so good. It's so animalistic it makes you go feral. He tongue fucks your throat with fever, his dangerous maw wide open. Knowing that he could tear your flesh easily if he just closed his jaws around your head turns you on an unthinkable amount as you take his tongues deeper down your already full throat.

You want him deeper in your throat even as you choke and gag. You want him deeper in your pussy even as he pounds you raw and hard, reaching so deep he kisses your cervix. Your brain is mush and your thighs burn, you scratch and claw his back for some kind of grounding as you quickly reach your peak again.

Your screams are muffled and gargled but the sound of your wet pussy slapping and squelching around his cock as you cum echos throughout the room. He growls and snarls into your mouth when he gets close, tilting his head back in absolute bliss.

He wraps his arms under your thighs and around your back to lift you up and squeeze you against his hot body. He pounds you even harder now with gravity on his side, forcing you down on his cock as he thrusts up in time.

His tongues leaves your mouth suddenly as he cums hard, groaning loudly as he fucks his seed deeper into your already soaked cunt. With your mouth free you groan like an snimal, tongue out, tears streaking down your face, spit running down your neck. You soak up the feeling of being folded in half and filled to the fucking brim by this demonic beast.

Your moans mix in the hot air between you. His cum is so thick and hot inside you, filling you up once again. You're so full you can't contain it all as it pours out of you and onto the floor. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, milking his cock with your tight pussy as you lay limply in his hold.

You sit on the floor for a few minutes holding each other close and catching your breath. He nuzzles his head into your sweaty neck and moves your body into a more relaxed position so that he's hugging around your waist and your legs rest around his torso. You feel each other for a moment, his cock still plugging up your messy cunt. Hes quiet, like he's thinking about something. You're not sure you can even speak but if you could you don't really know what you would say.

He leans back to look at your face, you realise you probably look an absolute mess, tear streaked face with spit all over your mouth and chin. He looks into your eyes like he's looking for something specific and you look back into his two small flames. He slightly nods and then holds you close to his chest once more, enveloping you with his body.

Suddenly your body gets hot, he gets hot. His hold is like a hot vice and you struggle against it on instinct but he just holds you tighter. You almost scream when you feel a red hot flash in every artery and vein in your body. The heat is gone just as quickly as it came and you sigh in relief before looking up at him in shock when you suddenly realise what he just did.

He accepted the pact proposal.

You let out a breathless laugh and lean up to place wet kisses all over his skull head.

He growls low and irritable like a cat.

"That's not necessary."

He grumbles like he's annoyed but doesn't move away from you as you give a few more kisses along his jaw. His tail swishes idly behind him.

"Well neither was fucking me. Twice."

You tease him while reaching for your discarded hat and plopping it back on your head. You shakily stand up on wobbly legs, he holds his hands out to your hips to stabilise you. Cum drips out of your cunt and his gaze is drawn to where it oozes down your thighs.

"Not that I'm complaining."

You balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders and clear your throat, trying to seem a little put together as he stares up at you. You very casually lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, presenting your puffy, dripping cunt to him.

"Are you the fuck and leave type or do you stay for the cleanup? "

The demon chuckles and opens his maw again, wet tongues slipping out and reaching for you, licking up your cum covered thighs and up to the source of the mess.

You're both going to make very good use of this pact.

#demon sex is fun to write #i can really just make shit up if i think its hot lol #wdym it doesn't make sense?? its a demon they can do whatever. lmao #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster x human #exophelia #monster fucking #monster lover #terato #terat0philliac #demon x reader #demon x human #fem!reader

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sakur4ii · 29 days ago

Text

Code Name: Rabbit

Chapter 2: The Rescue

←previus next→

English is not my first language!!

Warning: kidnapping, death, mention of corpse, mention of prostitution.

January 18, 22:00 PM

You're furious right now, and your heavy footsteps give it away. As soon as you finished watching the footage from all the cameras at that specific moment, you got up from the couch, changed into black, comfortable clothes, and put on your mask.

You're armed—one gun on each side of your belt and knives tucked under your pants in case of an emergency. You enter the building practically fuming, but even with your heavy steps, you're silent due to your lack of footwear—a signature trait of Rabbit that Lyara always found amusing.

You climb the stairs, noting the deafening silence, the cold beneath your feet as you ascend each step. You try to control yourself, reminding yourself not to kill anyone the moment you reach your destination. As you arrive at the base of the stairs leading to the third floor, you glance at the camera Lyara installed—when it recognizes someone, the live feed is displayed on a screen on the third floor. Good. They know you're here, and you want them to.

You start climbing the stairs, your brow furrowed—it's been that way since you left your apartment. You reach the door, which only opens when you place your hand on a touchscreen, identifying you as one of the few people with access to this floor. The door slides open, and pastel colors flood your vision—a bunch of sofas, a mini kitchen, a giant TV, and the bathroom door, all visible from the entrance. Everything except what lies behind the curtain against the back wall.

Seated on the couches in the center are the girls Lyara asked to gather, Omar, and the one person you’d shoot on sight if you could.

Judging by their worried expressions and the fact that no one greeted you, they’ve already noticed your bad mood. So you decide to keep this short and walk toward the center.

"Dan, come to my office, please." You manage to keep your tone calm.

You don’t see it, but Dan swallows hard.

You move to the curtain and push it aside, revealing a door. You open it and step into your office without looking back, walking toward your desk and pulling out one of the guest chairs.

Dan—the guard or bodyguard responsible for securing the stairs leading to "The Forbidden Garden"—enters your office, shutting the door behind him. Smart choice. You offer him a seat, and with poorly concealed anxiety, he decides to take it.

Without him noticing, you draw one of the guns from your belt, step behind him, and press the barrel against the back of his head. His face twists in absolute horror.

"I think you know why we're in this situation right now, so start talking, or I’ll blow your brains out." Your voice remains eerily calm, though inside, you’re itching to pull the trigger.

Dan starts stammering.

"They blackmailed me! I swear!"

"Who?" You press the gun harder against his head, urging him to keep talking.

"A man—from the Garden! He was wearing one of those white escort masks..."

You shove the gun against his head again, and he stammers once more.

"He asked for information about you and her. I told him the little I knew, then he gave me his phone number and told me to call him the moment she was alone in the building. Please, don’t kill me."

The man looks like he's about to burst into tears, sweating like a pig. There's something he’s not telling you, and that only deepens your frown.

"What did he blackmail you with?" You push the gun harder against his skull, and his reaction confirms you hit the right question.

Before speaking, he swallows loudly.

"I already told you everything. Please, don’t kill me."

You lean in close to his ear, tilting your head so he can't see you, but he can catch a terrifying glimpse of your mask.

"With. What. Did. He. Blackmail. You?"

"He offered me a million dollars."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to shoot him.

"Please, please, please..."

You almost pity him. Almost.

Your jaw tightens. This idiot can’t be serious. You knew something was off about him when Lyara hired him, but his record was spotless—too perfect for someone wanting to work in one of the darkest corners of Gotham. Lyara convinced you it was just paranoia. And now, this man has betrayed you both for money. Fantastic.

"Give me the phone number and get out. You have one week to find another job. You're fired."

Dan pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, sets it on your desk, and bolts out of your office as fast as he can.

You start pacing the room, replaying the traitor’s words in your head.

Then, you slam your fist into the nearest wall, ignoring the dull pain in your knuckles and the fresh hole in the concrete.

---

January 18, 23:45 PM

The night is dark; you can hear the crickets and the cars. Hidden in the bushes, you watch the kidnapper’s house, ignoring the cold and staying as concealed as possible. A drone hovers near one of the house’s windows, and even from a distance, you recognize it as one of Oracle’s drones. Fuck. You need to find a way inside without Barbara detecting you, and you must be careful—there’s a chance one of the Bats is already inside.

The house is registered under Marcel Gravois. Unfortunately, the man is dead, so you dug deeper, discovering that Elliot Gravois, Marcel’s grandson, inherited this house and several other properties. You have to thank Lyara for teaching you her hacking tricks, and also thank Elliot for being an idiot—it was as easy as tracking his number and pulling his IP. It didn’t give you an exact address, but this is the only house under a Gravois in the area.

Elliot Gravois seems to be involved in illegal activities beyond kidnapping; otherwise, Oracle wouldn’t be here. But you’ll investigate that later—right now, your priority is finding Lyara.

Silently, you step out of the bushes, feeling the cold grass beneath your feet. Near the house, you hear sounds of a fight coming from the top floor. You move in the opposite direction from where you saw the drone.

There are several windows. You approach the nearest one and pull up with all your strength—nothing, it’s stuck. You move to the next, but it has wooden planks nailed across it, so you don’t even try. The third is also locked. Frustrated, you approach the wooden door—also locked.

You sigh in resignation. Kicking the door down feels like a bad idea, so that leaves you with one option—the window near the drone. You walk toward it, and of course, it’s open. The drone turns toward you. You wave and make a shushing gesture, hoping it gives you the benefit of the doubt—or that you don’t end up in a cell within seconds.

"Alright, here we go," you think. You jump onto the window frame and, as quietly as possible, slip inside the house. The first thing you notice is the intense fight happening upstairs—walls shaking, furniture crashing, like they’re having a good time.

You reach for your belt and draw one of your pistols. Keeping controlled steps and maintaining a Low Ready stance, you begin clearing the perimeter.

The living room is surprisingly neat. No photos, no television. You check the kitchen—it looks used, but not much. Moving into the hallway, you notice a smaller drone following you. You turn—it’s another of Barbara’s drones. You ignore it. She was going to keep an eye on you anyway.

The hallway is empty—no paintings, no pictures, just closed doors. You scan each one. A bedroom with a bathroom—empty. A guest room—empty. A bathroom—empty. At the end of the hall, a different door. You press your ear against it—silence.

You glance at the drone, then press yourself against the wall, keeping your gun close to your shoulder with the barrel pointed upward. Your free hand grips the doorknob, turning it slowly and silently. As you open the door, you peek inside—a staircase leading down. A basement.

Your free hand returns to your gun, still aiming at the ceiling. Moving sideways, you descend carefully, step by step. The dust and dirt beneath your feet make you wince, and the creaking wood makes you tense. The drone behind you is getting on your nerves.

It’s pitch dark. If it weren’t for your rabbit mask, the dust would have you sneezing. Halfway down, the fight upstairs is no longer audible. If something happens to you down here and it’s not worth it, you’ll blame Barbara for the rest of your life.

A faint light catches your eye as the staircase takes a sharp turn. More steps lead further down. You crouch slightly, spotting the light illuminating a chair at the end of the basement. But it’s not empty—you see sock-covered feet.

Another step down—you see knees. Another—you see a lap. Step by step, until you finally see the unconscious figure.

As soon as you recognize the hair color, you holster your weapon and rush forward, heart pounding with anxiety and fear. You reach her and check her pulse.

Thump, thump, thump. Steady. You exhale in relief.

You bring a finger under her nose—she’s breathing evenly. Just unconscious, with some bruises.

Kneeling, you begin untying the rope binding her feet to the chair. That’s when you notice her dislocated knee. That bastard.

You start planning how to get Lyara to the hospital without revealing your identity. You pull the knife from beneath your pant leg and cut the ropes. But just as you finish freeing her, you notice the drone rotating between you and a whiteboard you hadn’t seen before.

Annoyed, you step away from Lyara and approach the board, noticing the photos pinned to it and the desk cluttered with papers beneath.

As soon as you see the images, your stomach churns.

Each picture shows a different woman. Some are naked, others clothed. Some are badly injured, while others show no physical wounds but wear expressions of despair, horror, fear—even rage. None of them were okay.

One of the photos is of Bea. Taken in this same basement.

You scan the papers on the desk, fury building inside you. Careful not to leave fingerprints, you sift through them. They’re reports—each woman listed like cargo. Names, ages, details. Some pages even have sticky notes—probably from Elliot Gravois.

Then you reach Bea’s file, and your heart sinks.

Name: Beatriz Sullivan

Age: 26

Sex: Female

Accepted or Rejected: Rejected

Reason: Not a requested woman. Clients do not want transgender women.

Post-it: January 18, The Burrow

Hands trembling, you pull out your phone and take pictures of everything—papers, images. You’re going to get to the bottom of this. You’re going to find out why Elliot Gravois made this personal.

Stowing your phone, you return to Lyara. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, you lift her bridal style and prepare to leave.

The drone follows, but this time, it moves ahead—leading the way. Good.

You ascend quickly, squeezing through the doorway without jostling the blue-eyed girl. The fight upstairs still rages. Practically sprinting through the hall, you hear a loud crash above—then silence. The fight is over. Shit.

Reaching the window, the smaller drone peels away, leaving you with the larger one, still stationed outside. You sit on the windowsill, swinging one leg out, then the other, making sure Lyara’s head doesn’t hit the frame.

You start moving quickly—but freeze. A shadow stretches from a nearby building.

You look up—and there it is.

Gotham’s most feared and admired silhouette.

You feel his eyes piercing into your soul. But you don’t have time for this.

You start walking again.

You don’t care if he follows. You’re heading straight to the hospital. You already have a plan.

---

You leave Lyara with the doctors and run out of the hospital—you need to get to your apartment as soon as possible, and luckily, it’s close. You sprint through the streets of Gotham, staying within the shadows. Your bare feet press against the cold pavement, adrenaline surging through your body, but all you can think about is Lyara.

Once you reach your apartment, you pull off your mask and rush to your bedroom. You change into something comfortable but not the clothes you usually wear as Rabbit. You get rid of your weapons, keeping only the knife hidden in your boot. Then, you head to the bathroom, wash your feet, and put on your shoes. Taking a moment, you run your fingers through your hair, throw on your signature cap, and leave your apartment. As you descend the building’s staircase, your phone rings—it’s a call.

You don’t stop walking. You keep moving down the stairs, exiting the building as you answer the phone.

—"Hello, good evening. Am I speaking with [Name] [Last Name]?" A woman’s voice comes from the other end of the line.

—"Yes. Who is this?" You respond, masking your breathlessness, pretending you weren’t waiting for this call or running through the streets.

—"I’m calling to inform you that Lyara Valtieri has been admitted to Mercy Hospital. Your number is listed as her only emergency contact. Could you come in to fill out some paperwork and discuss her condition?"

—"Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes."

The woman hangs up after telling you they’ll be expecting you. You shove your phone into your pocket and start running even faster, this time with the wind at your back.

The night is surprisingly calm for Gotham, and you reach the hospital without any distractions or obstacles.

Inside, the stark white lighting is blinding compared to the dark streets. You approach the reception desk. The receptionist immediately recognizes your voice and hands you some forms to fill out. After completing them, she gives you directions to Lyara’s room. You thank her and head toward the elevator.

As you press the button for the third floor, you think about what the receptionist told you. Lyara is stable—some bruises, but the only serious injury is her dislocated knee. A couple of months in a cast, followed by rehab, and she’ll be good as new. Now, all that’s left is to wait for the drugs in her system to wear off. After some final tests, she’ll be discharged.

You step out of the elevator, making a few turns—right, then left—until you find room 407. Your hand grips the doorknob. You take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and exhale slowly. Carefully, you crack the door open and peek inside.

Lyara lies unconscious on the hospital bed. The receptionist mentioned that she had woken up briefly, given her name, begged for you, and then passed out again.

You step inside and close the door behind you. Dragging the stool from the corner of the room, you place it beside her bed and sit down, gently taking her hand in yours.

Guilt settles in your chest. If you looked in the mirror right now, you'd probably have the expression of a kicked puppy. You truly feel awful. Both of you knew what you were getting into when you turned The Burrow into a place where information is sold—a meeting spot for the rich and the criminals, a refuge for women desperate for money.

You still remember how recruitment worked at the beginning—wandering through Gotham’s red-light districts, handing out business cards with the club’s address and a wad of cash to women who needed an escape. How difficult it was to earn the respect of the criminals in the area. And thank god it was Lyara who handled the rich clientele, because you can’t stand them.

At some point, exhaustion takes over. you don't even notice when you fall asleep.

---

As soon as Barbara saw a person wearing a black bunny mask with bulging red eyes, she should have alerted Tim, who was inside the house fighting with Elliot Gravois, informing him of an unwanted company and a possible threat. However, it was the gesture for silence that made her hesitate, because who sees a drone and asks for silence? So she decided to stay quiet and follow this mysterious person, there was no need to distract Red Robin for now.

What Barbara didn’t expect was to find a poor girl kidnapped in Gravois' basement, nor did she expect the mysterious person to come just to save her. She imagined her surprise when she saw the amount of information in that basement. She watched as you took pictures but decided to let it go, preferring to focus on helping you protect the girl, guiding you through the house.

—Who is that?— A rough voice asked over the communicator.

—Not a threat, let them go, the girl in their arms needs a hospital.— Oracle responded without room for debate, earning a grunt from Batman.

—Try to find the girl, maybe she can give us useful information.

—Of course.

Red Robin captured Elliot Gravois and decided to be the one to interrogate him. He didn’t touch the evidence, it wasn’t necessary; Barbara had scanned it with the drone, and the physical evidence could be handed over to Commissioner Gordon. While Red Robin interrogated Elliot, Batman called Nightwing. As soon as Oracle found the kidnapped girl’s name and the hospital she was admitted to, she sent the information to both of them so they could investigate together.

Barbara continued to delve deeper into the girl’s life. Her name was Lyara Valtieri, there was scarce information on her besides living in an apartment in the Upper East Side and owning a nightclub in The Narrows, nothing particularly important. There was barely any information about her parents, but it seemed she came from a wealthy family. This only made it more puzzling that she had been kidnapped, as up until now, the kidnapped women were prostitutes or homeless women without families—women who wouldn’t be missed. This made her furrow her brow in confusion.

She reviewed the information again—wealthy family, apartment in an affluent area, nightclub in The Narrows... Where was this nightclub located? Her hands quickly typed, finding the address and the name of the nightclub. "The Burrow" sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it... oh wait, of course! It was the nightclub her father mentioned at lunch, where they found a murdered woman... She typed again. Beatriz Sullivan, 26 years old.

A hunch led her to search through the reports she had scanned with the drone. She went through a lot of names of different ages and found what she was looking for. One of the women kidnapped by Elliot Gravois was that girl, Beatriz. Why did he leave the body at that nightclub? Why did he kidnap the owner? How could the two women be connected?

The night was going to be long.

Mercy Hospital; January 19, 4:57 AM

Your consciousness slowly awakens. You begin to hear muffled voices that become clearer as you start to stir. You feel a tight grip on your hand, which is strange because the grip seems like a pattern. You don’t open your eyes, even though your back hurts and you want to stretch, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to pretend to sleep. The voices are now clearer in your head, a man is speaking to Lyara.

—Did you know the man who kidnapped you?— The voice is serious but kind, with a tone of understanding, as if not trying to pressure her. You’ve heard that voice somewhere before.

—No, I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.— Lyara responds, she’s lying, but that’s something only you can tell. And even if the man notices, it could go unnoticed, as if she wasn’t sure she hadn’t seen him, as if she had forgotten, but the man doesn’t press.

A second voice surprises you, and this is when you’re grateful to have your face hidden between your arms because your eyes widen in surprise. Now you understand that the grips were Morse code "don’t move" was what Lyara wanted to tell you.

—Do you know the person who saved you? The girl with the bunny mask?— The voice is rough and intimidating, dry but direct, it’s impossible not to recognize it, because it’s Batman’s voice, and now you know who the other man was—Nightwing is in the room too.

You close your eyes again and try to focus on your other senses, especially touch and hearing.

Lyara tightens her grip on your hand, she’s good at acting but is too tired, afraid of slipping up if she hasn’t already. Two years ago, you both created an entire story for situations like this. You repeated the lie so many times that you almost started to believe it yourselves. But should she really? She could just say she didn’t know what they were talking about, she was unconscious anyway. Now she would appreciate having woken you up when she woke up.

—I’m not sure what are you talking about, Mr. Batman.— She opts to say.

Now, Batman is no fool, he’s been observing, scrutinizing her gestures and micro-expressions, but from his position at the door of the room, he can’t see the person who is sleeping next to her very well. He can’t see the grip on their hands because she made sure to hide them away from the bed, hoping Nightwing noticed that.

This interrogation isn’t helping them, they’re not getting any useful information, Batman grumbles. Nightwing looks at him over his shoulder and catches the message “let’s go,” so as soon as the younger one says goodbye, they both leave the room.

Once they leave, Lyara starts breathing normally again; she didn’t even know she had been holding her breath. You lift your head and stretch your back. The pain you had been ignoring starts to become unbearable, and the crack of your bones from stretching doesn’t surprise you. You let out a yawn.

—Oh my god, my heart almost fell out of my chest.— Lyara says, putting a hand on her chest and letting out a long sigh.

—How long have you been here?— You raise an inquisitive eyebrow that doesn’t last long, then rub your eyes to clear away the sleep.

—About five minutes before you woke up, when I noticed your breathing change, I almost freaked out.— She laughs and takes your hand when you place it back on the bed.

You can’t help but look at her with a mixture of concern and admiration. Even with the bruises on her face, even with a cast on her leg, she still finds a way to laugh.

—We’re going to have to talk about a lot of things, Lya.— You tighten your grip, and she gives you a sheepish smile.

—I know.— She whispers.

🩷🩷🩷

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