#and the way he squeezes his eyes shut like he's trying not to cry????

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 6 ~ CALM BEFORE THE STORM

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: apologies for the sparse updates i swear i'm still alive, icl i have beef with this chapter in terms of characterisations but the next chapter is my lil baby so yall can look forward to that

chapter warnings: large amounts of crying, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of mind control, for some reason i really like The Hello Kitty Blanket, not much else but i probably forgot at least 1 thing

chapter word count: 3.6k

When you wake, you are lucid. Too lucid, it seems, because you recall your dreams with such clarity that you throw up, emptying the meagre contents of your churning stomach into a bucket someone had handily placed by your side. You do not want to believe what you’ve seen, so you chalk it down to the fever.

It’s early in the morning, and Jisung lies propped up against the wall beside the makeshift bed the boys must have made you, heavily asleep, a half full bottle of water held loosely in his hands. You manage to heave yourself upright, and it’s only then that you notice the rope tied loosely around your wrists and ankles, tied to the foot of the centrifuge and tethering you down.

Your stomach twists. Felix. You hurt Felix.

And yet, Jisung snores peacefully beside you. There is a calm in his slumbering face, a tranquility. He feels safe to sleep beside you, and no one has deigned to disturb him from his position - then, they don’t blame you, nor do they fear you.

Hesitantly, almost expecting your body to disobey your orders, you reach out and pluck the bottle from his grasp, taking careful sips until it’s finished. With a glance behind you, you notice Jeongin has sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that Chan is making his way towards you. He looks a little paler than before, and the semicircles beneath his eyes are darker.

You cannot imagine for the life of you why they have stayed and looked after you.

Unbidden, a smile finds its way onto your face as he approaches, and it widens when he returns it, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. Relief is clear on him, in the slight sag of his shoulders and release of tension in his brow, as if a heavy load has been lifted from him.

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching beside you, eyes bright and hope filled as he unties you. “I knew you would make it.”

“Chan,” you say, and suddenly your voice and smile are wobbly.

You reach out your hand, simply intending to grab ahold of his hoodie and remind yourself that you’re fine now, that they didn’t leave you even though they should have, but he goes one step further and engulfs you in his arms. Breath shaky, you close your eyes, holding onto him as tightly as you can.

Chan is warm and solid, and he smells ridiculously like clean laundry despite the fact that none of you have gone near a washing machine in weeks. It feels as if he is keeping you whole, as if you might crumble apart if he lets go. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe him in.

You’re able to find your voice once your face is hidden in the safety of his shoulder. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “You were pretty weak when that stage set in.”

You nod, trying to find words. “How - how long was I out?”

“Just under a week.”

Your jaw drops. “A week?”

“Yeah,” he says. “The next ship hasn’t landed yet. We met three guys looking for the rest of their group. The leader - his name was Hongjoong - has dubbed it the Reprieve. I just think it’s the calm before the storm.”

You blink. “You talked to someone? Were any of them sick?”

Getting to his feet, Chan shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone has been since the first horseman’s ship took off.”

Grabbing his hand, you stop him. “Thank you, Chan. You - you didn’t have to put yourself or the boys in danger for me, but you did, anyway.”

“I did what I’d do if it happened to any of us,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to him.

You’re about to reply, but you’re cut off by a drawn out gurgle from your stomach. Chan chuckles, his dimples appearing again. He is so bright, so clear, that it is hard to believe the shadows could even survive while he was there.

“I’ll get you some food in a second,” he grins. “Minho, Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin and I are going out on a supply run. We don’t know how long the Reprieve will last so we’re going to try and stock up as much as possible in case we need to hole up when the second horseman comes.”

Briefly, you consider volunteering yourself too, but although you feel healed, you’ve been out for the last week and you need to rest. No doubt Chan would refuse to let you come along, anyway - he hands you a can of pasta shapes drowning in synthetic tasting tomato sauce, and you scarf it down while the lab begins to fill with life as the others wake up.

Felix bounds over and hugs you, followed closely by Hyunjin. You scan the former’s face for any signs of fear or hurt, but he beams at you, and your soul feels a warmth it hasn’t in a long time. There’s a beauty in his smile that is so hard to come by, now.

All of the boys greet you once they’ve woken up, even Minho, who kind of just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re alive. You don’t blame him. Hope is rising in your chest, the same way it shines in Jisung’s eyes when he jerks awake to see you conscious and radiates from Jeongin’s smile, because despite it all, you survived Pestilence, and if you survived the first horseman, maybe there’s a chance you’ll all be able to live through the next ones.

The hope rises so high that you dismiss your fever dreams. It lingers, wonderfully so, and rests on you, Hyunjin and Jisung after the others go out on the supply run, filling the three of you with bubbling laughter as the hours pass.

And then, abruptly, it falls short.

The sun is setting, painting the already red sky redder, and the others do not return. They do not come bustling through the door, laden with plastic bags full of supplies. Their voices do not echo down the street as they make their way back to the lab.

There are plenty of reasons they could have been delayed. They could be lost, or maybe they met that guy called Hongjoong again, yet you can’t help but feel the sinking feeling of despair re-enter your chest, when before you’d been so light and happy and hopeful. Hyunjin stares down at his lap and picks nervously at his cuticles. You glare worriedly out the window, tapping your foot on the floor.

Jisung begins to hyperventilate.

Immediately, you scoot over until you sit on the floor beside him. He’s rocking back and forth, his hands clenched into fists so hard that you know his nails must be digging painfully into his skin. His worry is contagious, settling in your bones and creeping into the back of your mind, armed with doubt.

Hyunjin is frozen where he is sat, and for a terrible, mind numbing moment, you feel painfully out of your depth - you know you could fight to protect him, but this is not something you know how to deal with. Minho or Chan would know what to do, not you.

Still, you prise his hands open so you can hold them. Positioning yourself so he can feel the press of your front against his back, you grip him tight enough for him to stop rocking. You tell yourself that the others will come back, repeating those words like a mantra, and even though you cannot fully deceive yourself, it steadies you nonetheless.

“Breathe with me,” you command, in a voice that leaves no room for arguing - a voice that sounds just like Chan’s.

Jisung’s breathing stutters, his chest heaving with the effort of it, but he fights to obey you, and you hold him close to you, grounding him even when his grasp on your fingers begins to sting with how hard he squeezes them. His trembling begins to ease up, and you loosen your arms on him, but he grips onto your wrist, keeping you wrapped around him. Carefully, you stroke his hair, keeping your breathing slow and deliberate.

“I’m here,” you soothe. “Jinnie’s here as well, okay?”

He twists in your arms so he can face you. Tears have tracked down his cheeks, and you wipe them away with your thumbs, a tight ache developing in your chest when his face crumples and he hides himself in your embrace again. Hyunjin shuffles over, resting his head on your shoulder and stroking a hand down Jisung’s back. You realise he’s shaking too.

“What if the next wave starts and they’re out there?” Jisung asks quietly.

“We’d have seen the ship coming down,” you tell them firmly, pushing back flashes of your dreams that crowd your head. “It’s not over yet.”

Hyunjin nods against your shoulder, a little sniffle escaping him. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and bring him a little closer, resting your chin on his head. The three of you stay like that for a while, tangled together as you listen to the sound of your heartbeats; there is a tension filling the lab not unlike the tightness in the air before rainfall, and you attempt to tamp down your worries, keeping them to yourself when the sky becomes the darker than the deepest of red wines and stars begin to wink to life.

This is the calm before the storm. You’re just afraid that your own, more personal storm might have arrived before the big one.

“I hate them,” Jisung announces after a while, and his arms tighten around you.

“The aliens?” You ask.

He nods. “I don’t care if they hear. I hope they hear - I hope they know I hate them for what they’ve taken from us.”

He has raised his head from where it was resting on your shoulder, and there is a fire in his eyes that you have not seen before, paired with pain woven through with a bitter sort of determination - the type derived from spite, the dogged tenacity to survive. A lump grows in your throat. You pull him close again, burying your face in his hair so he and Hyunjin don’t see the tears welling at your lash line.

You hate the aliens too. You hate them for their fucking games and stupid horsemen, you hate the way they’ve invaded your sky, you hate that they have broken millions of hearts and torn families apart. And now, if the others don’t come back, another family will have been lost.

The waiting makes you feel helpless. Restless, you pace circles in your mind, wondering whether you should go out and search for them, but that would leave Jisung and Hyunjin alone, and the next horseman could arrive at any time. You want something to do, something to put your mind off the worry, but there is nothing. All you can do is pull the two of them closer to you and soothe them with hollow words.

You’re about to suggest trying to eat something when the sound of footsteps approaches. You’re all on your feet in seconds, hurtling to the door, and before you can think to caution him, Hyunjin has shoved it open and looks out with wild hope bright in his eyes.

It’s dark outside. You can see silhouettes making their way towards you, their heads bowed tiredly, and though you can’t see their faces, you know for sure now - it’s not over yet. It won’t ever be over, as long as you’re all together and breathing.

Jisung sprints out into the street and hurls himself right into Minho’s arms.

You slump against the doorframe, relief swamping any anger you felt at them for coming back so late. Minho has dropped his bags and is gripping Jisung tight, his nose buried in the younger man’s hair, eyes squeezed closed - the sight is poignant enough to make your vision blur with unshed tears, vanquishing the tension that had been pervading your body for the last few hours. You step into Felix’s arms, your knees feeling as if they may give out any second.

“What happened?” You breathe out, sheltering in his embrace.

“There were dogs,” he replies, patting your back soothingly. “We were stuck balancing on top of a food shelving unit until they got bored and left. I’m sorry, we came back as fast as we could.”

You almost find it in you to laugh. All that worry, while the boys were camped out on the top shelf, waiting for animals that used to be beloved pets to lose interest in them. It feels as if you should take it as a warning, a reminder that you should take nothing for granted, but it fills you with a vicious triumph instead - they came back, and that’s what matters.

You squeeze him hard enough that he squeaks. “Don’t be sorry. Just, I was - we were scared. Shitless. Don’t ever do that again, you fucker.”

He laughs, and suddenly, with that bright sound ringing sweetly through the air, everything is alright again.

Everything continues to be alright until, a few hours later, you all decide to sleep, and though you are not alone as you once were, the dreams still come.

Snatches of laughter echo in your ears. Grasping, shadowy fingers tear at your hair and clothes. A blonde woman and a bronze skinned man, reduced to nothing but puppets, command swathes and swathes of survivors.

Reaping more than should ever be taken, great slaughter and boundless hunger ravages the land. There is only endless falling, like you are trapped in the vast pull of a black hole.

Eventually, you wrest yourself from the visions' claws.

Panting, sweat breaking out all over your skin in sharp prickles, you sit up, kicking the blanket off you. You pause for a moment, listening. Tonight is a rare night where Chan is actually asleep - his breathing is deeper and far slower than it is when he lies with his eyes closed, pretending. He is still next to you, frighteningly so, and you wish you could not so easily imagine him lifeless beside you.

Moonlight bleeds from the crack in the blinds, alighting on Hyunjin’s shoulders and spilling from them like a crimson cloak. His head is bent towards someone else, a slighter figure, with light hair, blonde hair -

She’s here.

And then you realise that the blonde is slightly grown out, that it’s far too glossy and a little too short to be hers. You deflate in relief. It’s just Felix. When he turns his face towards you, you see his sweet eyes and his freckles, and wonder how you could have ever seen his hair and mistaken him for her, even in the near darkness and from across the room.

Felix smiles and beckons you over, and you get up, keeping your footsteps quiet. The two of them have tucked the Hello Kitty blanket around them - a glance over your shoulder reveals that Changbin is now sharing Seungmin’s blanket, tucking himself tight against the younger man’s back, even in sleep. Hyunjin opens the blanket on his side, and you gratefully wedge yourself in.

The lab air is cold and a little biting, as if there aren’t solid walls separating you from outside, but you feel warmed by their actions, by the openness blooming so plainly on both their faces that it makes your heart ache.

“Nightmares?” Felix asks.

Mutely, you nod.

“Do you want to talk about yours?” Hyunjin asks. “Sometimes it helps.”

You blanch. Telling them of your fever dreams feels like speaking truth into them, like giving them the power to become real. There’s a chance that they’re just the substance of your terrified mind, but they have a strange quality to them, like the humming, disastrous tone of a prophecy. Not telling them could be withholding information that might be valuable.

“I had these visions when I was ill,” you blurt, then quieten your voice. “I don’t know if they were visions or dreams. Either way, they showed the next three horsemen.”

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath, stiffening beside you. Although he doesn’t say anything, Felix reaches out and squeezes your hand, and you cling to him like he’s your anchor, willing yourself to continue. It is harder than expected to describe what you saw - the images flash before your eyes, the scents and the sounds right in your head, and yet your tongue is stiff in your mouth with fear and dread.

“The one coming now is War. He…” You struggle with your words, wondering how many details are needed. “I think he possessed these two people. They’re supposed to be generals of some sort, maybe. Once he looked at them, they were his.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath. A rustle sounds nearby, like the sound of someone rolling over, and you glance up, aware that your voice had risen and taken on a panicked edge near the end of your sentence. Jeongin is stirring, but soon he relaxes, and you twist the blanket in your fingers, worrying at a loose thread.

“Keep going,” Felix urges.

“The third one is Famine. She was terrible, but beautiful too,” you murmur, unable to meet their eyes. “This one was hazier. I just remember the hunger, so strong that I would have done anything to destroy it. It felt like my body was changing, too, but I think that part was symbolic of something. Like the weighing scales she had.”

“Symbolic, like of the monsters humanity is becoming?” Hyunjin says, the horror clear in his voice.

Swallowing harshly, you press on. “The last was Death. There are blurry parts, parts I can't focus on, like what he said to me, but I remember other bits. Falling. What he looked like. I was - ” Your voice cracks. “ - terrified. That’s the clearest bit. The fear. I was helpless.”

Felix squeezes your hand. “We’ll - we’ll make it through. We’ll survive them.”

You can’t fathom how strong he must be to say that.

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whisper. “In case it’s not true, and it was all just some crazy fever dream. I - I don’t want to scare them. Chan will worry.”

“I agree,” Felix replies. “We don’t know if it’s real.” He squeezes your hand again. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Thank you for listening,” you mumble.

What you really mean is: thank you for staying, thank you for looking after me while I was under Pestilence’s hold, while I went crazy and could have killed or hurt you all. They are insane, for risking their own lives for you, merciful where the end of the world should have hardened their hearts.

Hyunjin is silent. You are too afraid to glance over and look him in the eyes, for fear that you will be condemned by what you will see in them. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just huddles under the blanket with the rest of you, and you wonder if he hates you for being the bearer of news that could be the death of every person in this room.

You wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case, yet when he finally turns to you, he hugs you tight - tight enough to squeeze all the air out of your lungs, yet it doesn’t suffocate you. It feels like he’s holding you together, just like it did with Chan.

You allow a few of your tears to soak into his shirt before you pull yourself together.

When you raise your head, you realise Hyunjin is crying too, and yet the tears streaking down his cheeks look like war paint. He looks strong, like a warrior prince, and fearsome. Though he weeps, it is the farthest thing from a weakness.

And then he yawns, rubs at his face, and he is just sleepy, Hello-Kitty-blanket-around-his-shoulders Hyunjin again. Still, you see the remnants of that magnificence, and you know that although it has receded, it is as much a part of him as the tired but brave smile he sends you when he catches you looking.

“Shall we go back to sleep?” Felix asks.

You nod, and Hyunjin stands, wiping his eyes and holding the blanket around his neck like a cape. A smile tugs at your lips, and he grins down at you, doing a little twirl - the soft fabric flares out at the bottom, and you duck to avoid getting smacked in the face by it, opening your mouth to tell him that he looks like some sort of Sanrio monarch.

A keen whine splits the air like a guillotine.

The colour drains from Felix’s face, and his eyes dart immediately to the window. Hyunjin freezes. Suddenly, Jeongin is up, and he rolls right out from under the blankets and onto his feet, crossing the room to the window so he can yank the blind open. Baffled, you follow his gaze, and your heart sinks.

It’s a ship. The next horseman is coming.

You haven’t heard the sound of one of their ships before - you’d been delirious - but there’s no doubt left in your mind as one of the dark specks in the sky detaches from the others and arcs towards the ground like a falling star.

The Reprieve is over.

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[meelusinee]

SUN-KISSED LIPS ★ B.Z X READER

in which Blaise takes you out on a date in Italy after your O.W.L exams

pairing: boyfriend blaise zabini x girlfriend reader tags: fluff fluff fluff!!! blaise being the best boyfriend word count: 2.3k warnings: none

author's note: thank u guys so much for the support AAAAAA i've been so motivated to write fanfics and stuff, so i'm making one for every major character i want to cover before i do repeats. unlesss someone wants to do a request :D in which case i will totally try to make something up.

SUN KISSED LIPS | B.Z X READER

Exams had been stressful, to say the least. 

Potions was absolutely dreadful. Snape’s watchful eye feeling like it was zoned directly onto you, any mistake you made seemed to displease the man even further than what you thought possible. Then Charms, where you had to remember at least 50 spells within the span of maybe two minutes. The written section for Transfiguration was absolutely dreadful, as was the showcase of Mandrake handling for your Herbology exams. Not to mention the abomination of your History of Magic exam, though you felt like everyone could only recall one or two things by that point of the week. Defense Against the Dark Arts was last, the only class you felt you had done something good in.

All in all, very stressful.

And that stress was not lost on Blaise either.

Blaise, your sweet and caring boyfriend, has had to handle most of your exam stress for the past month. Most of the time though, you were shutting him out in favor of studying. 

He couldn’t blame you much, the O.W.L exams were important. Not everyone could buy their way into Ministry jobs, they would have to work for it. Your work ethic was always something that Blaise truly appreciated about you.

But right now, that work ethic was getting in the way of his love life. Which obviously meant that he had to devise a plan.

“Amore mio,” he whispered, hands moving to scratch at your scalp as you leaned over your desk. “The exams are over, what’s there to be stressed about?”

“I haven’t gotten my results back yet!” you said, the bone of your palm hitting your forehead before pulling roughly at your hair. “What if I failed all of them? I mean, these exams are really important. If I fail all of them, I won’t be able to do anything with my life.”

Blaise chuckled softly at that, gently pulling your hands away from your hair before kissing the top of your head. “Bambina, we have Umbridge this year.”

“God, don’t remind me.” you groaned. “I’ll die, Blaise. Actually die. She’s going to fail all of my exams, isn’t she?”

“Love,” he chuckled, pulling up a chair and sitting next to you. “Look at me.”

Blaise watched as you sighed before looking over at him, cooing softly as he finally saw your face for what felt like years. Your eyes were dark and swollen, both from a lack of sleep and crying. Not to mention how stressed you looked all together, with a sunken face and large pout that melted away at his heart.

“Tesoro,” Blaise whispered, his hands moving to hold yours. “You passed, my love. I know you did. You’ve been studying so hard for so long there’s no way you didn’t. I promise all of the professors will easily be giving you O’s on every exam.”

“But what if I fail?” you groaned, sniffling softly.

“You won’t fail.” Blaise said sternly, squeezing your hands. He didn’t want you beating yourself down anymore. “Plus, Umbridge likes me, and by association likes you. Maybe not the best person to like you, sure. But I promise it could help with your exams, the exams you don’t need help with in the first place.”

“You’re going to use bribery to get me perfect grades?” you chuckled quietly, scooting your chair a bit closer to him.

“I don’t think my bribery would be as effective as some people’s bribery.” he muttered, fingers caressing the back of your hands. “Maybe Draco.”

“How on Earth would you bribe Draco?” you giggled softly, looking up at him.

“Hookers.” Blaise shrugged, before smirking. “Which gives me a bit of an idea.”

“We are not hiring a prostitute.” you said.

“No, but we are going to go on a date.” Blaise smirked, standing up and walking over to your wardrobe. “Do you still have that black dress I got you last month? Or maybe the red one.” 

“Blaise!” you chuckled, standing up and moving to stand beside him. “Where on Earth would we even go? We haven’t made reservations or anything.”

“We don’t need those.” Blaise said, nudging you with his elbow. “Put on a nice outfit, we’re going on a date.”

“This is ridiculous.” you giggled, arms wrapped around his as the both of you walked down the sidewalks of Italy.

In the time that you took a shower, put on a nice sundress, and did your hair and makeup, Blaise had found a portkey to an Italian plaza. In Italy. The sun was still in the sky by the time they got there, the sun setting in just a couple of hours.

“What about it is ridiculous?” he asked, smiling softly down at you. “We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping in Italy!” you said, giggling softly. “Like, what about that isn’t ridiculous? Just 10 minutes ago I was at Hogwarts, now I’m in Italy.”

“It’s nothing.” he said, the both of you stopping in front of a clothing store. “I want to get you a new dress, is that okay?”

“You got me two already this month, and we’re not even halfway!” you giggled, looking up at him. “Do I really need another one?”

“This one’s from Italy though, bambina.” Blaise smiled, kissing the top of your forehead. His hand was resting on your waist, the other hand moving to open the door for you both. “Plus, you’ll need a swimsuit as well.”

“I do?” you asked confusedly.

“Yes you do, c’mon.” he smiled. 

The both of you walked into the store, Blaise guiding you to the swimsuit section. The first piece there was a red and white plaid one-piece, much similar to a picnic blanket. “I think that we should have a picnic at the beach.”

“If I have to wear a picnic blanket, so do you.” you said to him, hands on your hips.

“Maybe just plain red?” he asked you.

“I suppose that works.” you muttered, grabbing one of the swimsuits and holding it by the hanger. “What kind of dress did you want to buy me anyways?”

“I was thinking black.” he muttered, his hand resting on the dip in your back as you both walked to the dress section of the shop. There were shorter dresses and small sun dresses, though your gaze immediately turned to the more elegant ones at the top. “Maybe with velvet. Or a ball gown.”

“I am not letting you buy me a ball gown.” you said, wagging your finger in his face. “That is too much!”

“But then everyone would know that you’re a princess, wouldn’t they?” he smirked, eyes darting to look at the different dresses. “That one?”

It was a black silk dress, with a shoulderless sweetheart neckline and corset at the top. It was form fitting, and probably would cover your ankles. The top part before the corset was embroidered with small black gemstones, a small pattern of them also at the bottom.

“It’s really pretty,” you whispered, your eyes darting to the price tag. “But that’s too expensive. I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

“Sure you can,” he said, grabbing the first one off the rack and holding it against you. “It’d be yours, why couldn’t you?”

“Because it’s too much!” you said to him, looking down at the dress pressed against you. “Blaise, that is way too expensive. You’ve already bought me two dresses this month, don’t you have a budget of sorts? Surely you think this is too much too.”

“I’d rather dress you up than have my dad waste the worth of this on a pack of well-patted cigars.” Blaise said, kissing your forehead as he grabbed the swimsuit from your hands.

“Oh hush,” you grumbled out loud, trying and failing to grab at the dress and swimsuit from his hands as you both made your way to the counter. “I’ll get my revenge on you one day, Mister.”

“I’m sure you will, amore mio.”

The sun was just beginning to set as you waded your way into the water, small giggles escaping your mouth at the feeling of the cold water against your legs.

“It feels funny!” you said, smiling as Blaise pulled you into a hug. “You can feel it, right?”

“I can.” he smiled, peppering your face in kisses as you continued to laugh about the feeling. “It does feel rather unique, I must say.”

“It’s tickling me.” you said, holding onto his arms like a vice as the both of you waded further in.

“Are you cold?” he asked you, the water eventually making it up to your chests now. “I can put a warming charm on you, if you want.”

“It’s meant to be cold.” you said, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted you up to carry you. “Plus, you’re rather warm yourself anyways.”

“Am I now?” he chuckled softly.

“Yes you are.” you said, booping him on the nose.

Blaise hummed softly, his finger tapping your back a couple of times before a small radio began to play. You looked around in awe, not having noticed the scenery before you two got into the water. 

The water was absolutely breathtaking, the setting sun shining against it also giving Blaise the perfect sun-kissed look. His skin was absolutely glowing, and his smile mixing with the music made you feel like you just entered a romcom. 

“You’re absolutely beautiful, amore mio.” Blaise whispered, humming softly to the tune of a song you didn’t know.”

“How’d you even get us to Italy?” you asked, chuckling softly at him.

“My family is Italian.” he hummed under his breath, raising his eyebrow at you. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I do!” you pouted. “I just didn’t think you’d have a bloody Portkey to Italy.” 

“Well, I do.” he chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose to yours. “And now you know.”

“Good.” you hummed, nodding softly.

The two of you stayed in the water for a long while. You waded down to where the water would hit your shoulders, Blaise following close behind you as you both started to try and dance in the water. The sun set and made way for the moon, shining down on you as echoes of your giggles filled the night.

“Why don’t we go get some dinner?” Blaise whispered softly, his lips brushing against yours. “You’ll have to try the dress back on eventually.

“I’ll race you!” you said, the both of you wading your way to the shoreline. Blaise had originally beat you, but stayed behind and let you go first. 

“I win!” you giggled, smiling as Blaise patted your skin dry. “Where are we going to eat?”

“This one restaurant I know, they serve the best pasta.” he whispered, kissing your lips as the both of you walked off of the shoreline and towards the plazas again.

You and Blaise were walking to the restaurant together, hands held together as he directed you. His hands had been all over you all day, especially when he helped you put on the dress and do your hair and makeup for the date.

Which led you to where you were right now, in a black dress to match his black slacks, the both of you standing in front of a rather fancy restaurant. 

“What are you going to get?” you asked him curiously, smiling softly as he walked you to a table. He pulled the chair out for you, his lips meeting yours once you sat down. 

“Carbonara,” he whispered, sitting across from you after adjusting his tie. “You?”

“I don’t know much about Italian dishes,” you whispered. “I mean, I know some things. I don’t know if I know everything on this menu though.”

“Maybe you should start with something you know.” Blaise whispered, his hand moving across the table to meet yours. “Lasagna?”

“I love lasagna.” you whispered, turning the menu to the drink section. “What about drinks though? There’s just so many.”

“Anything you want, honey.” he chuckled softly. “You can get wine if you want. I’ll take you back home, okay?”

“Okay.” you smiled softly, giggling as you looked at the menu.

The waiter walked up and took your orders, the food eventually arriving with steam coming out. “This is really pretty.” you whispered.

“It is, isn’t it?” Blaise asked, chuckling softly as his fork swirled through his carbonara.

You swirled your fork around the lasagna before taking a small bite, blowing on it before placing it on your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Is it?” Blaise whispered, smiling softly. “Do you want to try some of my stuff?”

“It looks really good,” you whispered softly, scooting a bit forward in your chair as he handed you a small bite. “Thank you.”

“Does it taste good?” he asked, smiling softly.

“It does.” you whispered, smiling brightly at the taste of it. “I love both of them. And this wine, it’s also really good too.”

“Is it?” Blaise asked, chuckling at that. “Do you want a bottle to take back to Hogwarts?”

“We can do that?” you asked.

“Yes we can.” Blaise nodded, smiling softly.

“We so should!” you said, taking another sip of your glass of wine.

“Merlin,” he whispered softly, his hand caressing yours. “I love you.”

You both had made your way back to Hogwarts, your feet stumbling as Blaise helped you down into the dungeons. Down the stairs, through the Common Rooms, and down to his dormitory. His scent wrapped around you as he wrapped you in his blankets, a small smile coming on your face as you realized it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes looking up at Blaise with a sleepy expression. “For this.”

You felt a lot better despite your impending test results, a lot calmer than you were not seven hours ago. This date was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to you.

“It’s okay,” Blaise whispered, his hand caressing your cheek as he kissed your forehead. “You need some rest, can you get some for me?”

“Okay.” you whispered, nodding softly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAa this one was so fun to write oh my gawsh. beta-reading still sucks, but hey i got it done!

as alwayss, please like, comment, reblog, or whatever jazz you feel like doing. it really really helps out a lot more then you guys think it does, and i really really really appreciate it. if you have any requests, i have a masterlist full of characters i plan on writing for! so go check all that out, and have a great day!

[bigbigpushes]

Surprise!

A one night with an absolutely stunning stranger named Nick nine months before had lead Maddie to this moment. She had gone out for some drinks and spent the night with a man she had met at the bar. They had both decided it would be a one time thing and after parting ways the next morning, she really had believed that that would be that. A few weeks later she had been faced with a positive pregnancy test and no way to contact the father.

She was now thirty seven weeks pregnant and checking herself into the maternity ward, Maddie had woken early that morning to contractions and her waters broken. She was taken into a room and allowed to settle in. She was holding her belly and rocking her hips through a contraction when the doctor and a nurse walked in. “Maddie?” She looked up, eyes widening in recognition, it was just her luck that the nurse about to help her through labour and delivery also happened to be the stunning stranger from that very night.

“I had no way to contact you. We never exchanged numbers. Or last names.” Maddie managed to say softly, the pain now passed. She sat herself down on the bed, taking a much needed moment to catch her breath. “Wilson. My last name is Wilson.” It was a shock to him to say the least, it wasn’t everyday your patient was someone you had slept with. “So it’s mine?” She simply nodded, biting her lip. She had been nervous enough about giving birth, to say this was adding to that would be an understatement. “She is, yes. Not that I’m expecting anything.”

Maddie watched Nicks face, noticing he was about to say something when she grabbed his hand before he had the chance. “Ohhh, fuck.” The tighten in her uterus built, the pain growing with it as she squeezed her eyes shut, groaning through it. She could lightly sense Nicks thumb rubbing at her hand as she clung to his, before the contraction faded, leaving her breathless. “Sorry. What were you about to say?” She asked once eyes opening as she tried to catch her breath. “Just that I would like to be involved. If you want me to. We can go over details when you’re not about to deliver. Do you want a different nurse to do this?”

She was surprised by how gentle his question came across, she quickly shook her head in response. It was then her doctor cleared her throat, “if he’s in here, it’s best if it’s not in a professional manner.” Maddie had almost forgotten she was there, sharing a quick look as he nodded in understanding.

A few hours passed and Maddie and Nick had spent the time between contractions getting to know one another better, both laughing at how absurd the situation felt. They were down to ninety seconds apart, the late afternoon sun shining bright through the window, “I chose a name already.” Maddie told him, she was pacing around her room now, sitting making her back hurt too much. “Annie.” She paused in her pacing and leaned forward against the bed, head pressed into the mattress as she let out a loud cry of pain, Nick had jumped up quickly, pressing against her hips and applying much needed counter pressure. “I feel like her head is about to fall out.” She managed with a breathless laugh as the pain passed.

“I’ll get the Doctor in.” A button was pressed and she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, it only took a few seconds for her doctor to come in, doing all the necessary checks. Another contraction built, bringing with it more pressure than Maddie had been expecting, she shifted uncomfortably, almost as if she were trying to escape it. Both Nick and her doctor were talking her through the pain but she couldn’t hear it, trying not to scream until the vice grip on her uterus let go. “You’re fully dilated, it’s time to push.” She was told gently, knowing that the pain was almost over was a relief.

“In my birth plan, I wanted to be on my hands and knees, can I still do that?” She couldn’t shake the fear from her voice, the worry of being told no. Sitting was agony and she had never wanted to give birth on her back. Getting the okay, she wasted no time in shifting, now on her knees, resting against the raised bed head, she felt the pressure building, she gave no warning, grunting with the pressure as she gave her first push, knowing it was what her body needed her to do.

From then on, all she could focus on was the desperate need to deliver her baby. The supporting voices of her Doctor and Nick were muffled as she continued to push through each contraction. Soon there was a burning sensation as her vagina stretched, Maddie reaching out with a shaky hand for Nick. “I can’t. I can’t do this, it hurts too much.” Nick managed to perch on the edge of the bed, his hand cupping hers, it didn’t matter that they barely knew one another, that their reunion had been orchestrated by the birth of their child, in that moment it was as if they had always known each other. “You can do this. You already are. Just pant for a little bit, let yourself stretch and then bring her into this world.”

A kiss was pressed to her head as she panted and cried through the next couple of pains, it was a relief when she was told she could push again, Maddie growling as she bared down once more. “The head is out!” She heard the doctor call out after a few more pushes, she reached between her legs, gasping as she felt a head full of hair, laughing a little as she looked at Nick. It didn’t take long, barely thirty seconds before she had to continue, their daughter refusing to wait as she pushed to bring the shoulders out, the rest of the baby’s body following into the arms of her doctor.

Maddie moved carefully as Nick helped her to turn around and sit down on the bed, their baby quickly being placed against her bare chest, tears of joy falling down her face. The two shared a look between them, a soft smile before their gaze fell to their daughter, their lives changed forever.

[dirtytransmasc]

no cause miles is just so young.

he calls his dad, cause he's scared and upset and overwhelmed and he just wants to hear his voice.

he hugs him, even when he's "not supposed" to, when he's not his son and instead spiderman, when his dad has no idea who he is and only sees a vigilante.

when he hugs his dad, he presses into his chest, cause he's too short to rest his head on his shoulder, and he squeezes his eyes shut, cause he's no doubt about to cry (and we can't really see it, but I'm pretty sure he can't fully wrap his arms around his dad, which kills me).

when he dad hugs him, he's practically able to fit Miles's head in his hand. and the way he ran into him in a split second, and before his dad even knew what was wrong, he just held him????

I can't do this today, he's just so little, he's a baby, and he's been through so much, it's not fair, just look at him, what did he do to deserve any of this?

[muchmossymess]

I need to stop sleeping all day its giving me wild as fuck dreams

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BABY FEVER! — NANAMI KENTO

“Awe come on Ken, don’t you wanna—ah—cum in me? Fill me up, breed me? Nngh fuck!” You say in a teasing voice, your knees pushed all the way to your chest as his animalistic thrusts push you further into the bed. His pulsating cock and your sloppy hole making a mess on the sheets below. Plap! Plap! Plap! He knocks the wind out of you with each jolt of his hips.

Nanami’s mind is absolutely spiraling at your words. It’s like you flipped some sort of switch in his brain, and it doesn’t help with how tightly your cunt is hugging him either. “This greedy pussy wants my cum, hm? Careful what—ugh, shit—what you wish for, love!” He breathily chuckles through his moans. The bed creaks under your weight, the sheer force of hips knocking the headboard against the wall.

“I want it, Ken! So bad! Hah! Mmmph! Want y-you to put a baby in me!” You nod up at him, pleading eyes and all. The grip he has around your legs tighten and you swear you could see his eyes darken. He’s quick to throw your legs over his shoulder, pushing his weight down on you, folding you into a mating press. “Oh my god!” You swear you could feel the tip of leaky fat cock reach deeper than before, stretching your poor pussy.

“Want me to make you a mommy? Yeah? Is that it? That’s what my sweethearts been wanting all this time?” His lips quirk into a smirk, flashing a wicked grin at you. Your jaw falls slack, eyes wide as his heavy balls slap against the fat of your ass. “I’ll breed this pretty pussy everyday until you’re round with my kids—fuck, yes, yes, keep taking it!” The mere thought makes him feral.

“Yes, cum in me, baby, yes, yes! I’ll take all of it!” You cry out, eyes clenching shut when he roughly slams his hips into you over and over, his cock dragging against your gummy walls before sucking him right back in. The barge of his hips sends your eyes rolling back and you can tell he’s close to cumming, his erratic pace a telltale hint. “You’re so fucking deep in me! Oh my god!”

“This pussy’s gonna make me cum, sweetheart—nnngh—yes, keep squeezing me like that! Fuck, fuck,” he pants heavily, “I’m cumming!” He slams into you once more, the force making you cry out and cling onto his sweaty body. A blissful sigh escaped your lips as you felt his cum paint your insides, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “There you fucking go!” He groans, slowly dragging his hips out before pushing his thick length back in, fucking his sticky cum into you.

Both of you breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath as he pulls out, a mix of your juices and his cum coating his length. His eyes gravitate towards your swollen cunt, watching the way his cum leaks out of you and he’s quick to push it back in with his thumb. The corner of his lips turn into a satisfied smile before he leans down as places a sloppy kiss on your puffy lips, tongues gliding against each other before pulling away. He looks down between his legs, his dick still rock hard.

You let out a soft giggle, spreading your legs for him again. “Gonna breed me some more?” You bite down on your bottom lip.

“Only,” his throbbing top pushes past your messy folds, the warmth of your pussy wrapping around him as he slowly inserts himself inch by inch, “if you ask nicely, sweetheart.”

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[nochepsicodelica]

More clingy, bear boyfriend Toji thoughts.

He can't stand when you stay asleep once he wakes up in the morning and he chooses to be annoying about it by doing everything he can to wake you up. He'll sit up and lean over you to look at your resting features, admiring how adorable you are for a few seconds before carrying on. He starts by squeezing your waist, hoping the ticklish sensation is enough to make you stir so that he has something to bounce off of. You sleep like a log, though, so he has to try more than one method. He'll blow lightly into your ear and whisper softly about how it's time to wake up, scoffing when you brush him off with a whine. You hope he'll give up and let you sleep a little longer, but he doesn't. He's going to get you to wake up. He tries again, this time smothering the side of your face with kisses, starting from your temple going down to your chin. You love when he does this to you when you're wide awake, maybe this will do it. "Baby... Wake up, already. Let's start the day." Nothing from you, so he whips out the last resort.

NSFW Below

He flips you onto your back and tenderly kisses down your body. You're already more reactive to his touch so he keeps going. Leaves lots of wet kisses on your lower abdomen before he rolls down your panties. The second his tongue drags up your slit, you jolt and minimally scramble up the bed. You don't get very far because Toji is quick to calm you down and pins your legs with his arms. "Relax, mama. It's just me. No need to kick."

You let out a deep breath and your eyes fall shut in relief. It's just Toji.

"I know you wanted me awake, but you didn't have to give me a heart..."you trail off and let out a sharp breath. His tongue is back on you. "A heart attack."

"Mhm," he hums, dismissively, his mouth latched to your clit, sucking and running the tip of his tongue on the sensitive bud. "You'll be relaxed again, soon enough."

Soon enough indeed. It's been less than five minutes and things are already so messy. Your stomach is quivering with your impending release, and you're crying out his name repeatedly because it's the only thing you know when you're woken up this way.

He didn't even have to use his fingers to make you cum, just making out with your cunt was enough to make you gush. You're moaning, trying to ride his face to no avail due to the force he keeps on your hips to let him stay in control. He picks up the pace for you, letting his tongue glide through your folds, from your drooling hole to your clit, where he circles the sensitive bud all over again until you're whimpering and sobbing, jerking in his hold in an attempt to get away from his merciless mouth. He doesn't stop until you're all clean, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweetness.

"Mmm..." he hums, kissing your twitching inner thighs. "That's all, baby. Good morning."

[tender-rosiey]

Your husband, sukuna AU, is driving me crazy. That's like my 1st time ever experiencing what a comfort fic was. I have been re-reading them like crazy 😭

If it's okay with you, can you do a husband sukuna AU but with whatever scene you want? I really love the way you write him,,, it's just so perfect 🥹

dry your tears — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i am so glad you like them omg srsly you're too kind <33 i really hope you like this too 🥹🫶🫶

“my lord, her highness requests your presence in the garden.”

said man’s eyes open slowly, and he narrows them at the servant who instantly kneels to the ground. he scoffs, “requests? she sure has become impudent.”

the servant trembles, “that’s how she worded it, my lord. I swear I have no role in it.”

“I didn’t speak to you,” sukuna replies as he gets up as places his foot on the servant’s head, pressing into the ground a bit more.

the servant whimpers but tries to be as quiet as possible.

sukuna warns, “and you’re to address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘the queen’ only. do you understand?”

“but—but I did?” he splutters.

“ ’that’s how ‘she’ worded it?’ ” sukuna sneers.

“I didn’t mean it that way! I am sorry! I am sorry! my apologies, my lord!” the servants chokes out, and sukuna takes it as the cue to kick him out of his way.

he starts walking towards the garden, while stretching and examining his surroundings.

the palace hasn’t changed in the time he was gone which was good. at least the human servants are capable of doing one thing right.

the gates to the garden open, and they reveal you.

deep down, the sight brings a bit content to sukuna’s heart, seeing you alive and well. however, that is a vulnerability that he would never admit, so he gets closer to you.

you’re giving him your back despite, definitely, feeling his presence.

he groans, “what do you want?”

“where have you been?” you reply with the same tone.

he rolls his eyes, arms folded on his chest, “fighting, obviously. I was passing time.”

he hears you take a deep breath before you speak up, “and you couldn’t tell me in advance?”

he can tell that you’re trying to sound calm and collected. yet, he still can’t pinpoint whether you’re angry or sad. either way, he believes that your attitude is unacceptable.

he chides, “don’t blow it out of proportion, and you have the nerve to ‘request my—"

“you have been gone for a month.”

the edges of sukuna’s lips quirk up just a little as he starts to understand why you’re acting like this.

“not the first time,” he hums.

he sees your shoulders raise slightly, and they seem to get tenser by the second. you speak lowly, “but you usually tell me before you depart.”

he closes his eyes in annoyance.

this looks like it will drag out longer than he prefers. what he expected when he returned was him spending time with you, his wife, not you giving him your back and seemingly lecturing him.

“stop beating around the bush,” he commands, “what’s wrong with you?”

you grip your kimono tightly in your fist and squeeze your eyes shut as you exclaim, “you had me worried sick!” your voice is watery and is shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

you had spent the past month alone, nobody knew of sukuna’s whereabouts not even uraume. were you supposed to just calmly wait for his return?

he may be strong, but is it always guaranteed? especially considering how the sorcerers are always planning a way to lead him to his demise.

you bite your lip as you hold back a sob. meanwhile, your husband quirks a brow, “you crying?”

you open your eyes and stand up abruptly, “no, I am not!”

throwing the hood over your head, you turn towards the other entrance and announce, “I am going inside!”

you start your march with determination, but as you get close to the gate, you hear your husband sigh and stop you by the arm. he pulls you towards him, tearing off the hood to take a good look at you.

your tears are not plentiful, but he can see their traces.

you frown and try to pull back, “let go, sukuna!”

he raises a hand to cup your cheek and squishes your cheeks like a pufferfish. your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows in frustration.

“stop this,” you shoot.

he looks silently at you for a few moments, and it starts making you nervous. you finally decide to ask, but then he starts wiping your tears.

you blink in confusion as he lightly scolds you, “foolish girl.”

you register the insult after a few seconds, and it makes you frown and look away while grumbling, “shut up.”

you sniffle lightly and pull away from him. he looks down at you, silently watching you. you try ignoring his gaze, but then you just snap your head at him and huff, “what are you staring for?”

you study his face for bit then falter, “if it’s about yelling at you then I am sorry, okay? I was frustrated and—”

he pinches your nose, making you yelp.

“your worrying is unnecessary,” he says slowly, “I will always come back.”

sukuna, you realize, is comforting you. he lays a hand on top of your head and commands you, albeit gently, “so stop crying.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send my cat after you

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, size-difference, captive darling, punishment, deepthroating, bondage

♡ FEM reader

You beg your big bulky kidnapper not to take your virginity because you’re waiting to give it to someone you love, and he just smiles at you crookedly – stroking your teary cheek as he rests the hefty weight of his big fat veiny manhood on your belly, leaking hot pre while cooing at you with deceptively kind eyes, saying that he thinks that’s a lovely idea.

Flipping you over, he starts prepping your virgin ass instead – spit and four fat fingers stretching it out while you sob and wring your wrists in your fluffy cuffs – all pointlessly as the pink hole starts to give, becoming soft and squishy, swallowing his digits up in wet velvety squelches.

And filling the taut hole up with his massive cock, he rubs your clit and whispers darkly that he’ll save your pretty cunt for when you fall in love with him.

He’s overjoyed to see you’ve already fallen in love with him after only one round of pounding your poor butt into a sore sloppy opening – all but begging him to take your pussy instead. 

Obviously, he obliges, sucking the bloated fat of your teary cheek with a hum and a firm squeeze to your sore buttcheek before flipping you back around.

He kisses your lips, your neck, your tits, your stomach – laving down until licking through your pretty pussylips, promptly tongue-fucking the sweet hole until you cum with a shudder.

Smiling into your trembling cunt – he chuckles, feeling it pulse against his lips. “Come on, baby ~” He encourages. “Tell me how much you love me – tell me how much you want my sweet, sweet love.”

He pulls your thighs around his torso, rubbing his messy cock against your slick cunt while nipping at the corner of your lips – patiently waiting for your forced consent. Grossly amused – and aroused.

“Ah – please…” Your lips warble – eyes screwed shut where you try angling away from his steamy breaths.

“Please what, baby? Please make love to your sweet pussy?” He suggests with a moan – hunched over your smaller form with his cock licking your clit as he slides it back and forth between your thighs. “Or do you maybe miss it in your tight ass?”

“No – please-”

“Then tell me, baby. Tell me you want it – tell me you love me, and I’ll give it to you.” He purrs – still while laying open-mouthed kisses on your lips and cheek.

You whimper, crying wetly. “I love you – please make love in my pussy…”

He hums in return – a satisfying rumble as he slips his cock-head through your folds until it settles in your opening.

Your breath hitches at the stretch – then you suck your teeth – hissing as he splits you open and treads your tight virginity over his girth – hugging him air-tight like a condom bought two sizes too small.

“Oh, baby~ so tight~ so tight and good~ wet like a good virgin should be~” He groans, sinking every thick inch inside despite the way you squirm, ignoring your sweet cry when you beg him to slow down. 

He’s down to the hilt in a moment – kneading against your womb with his chubby cockhead. Big hands squeeze your ass – using it to pump into you in steady deep-hitting thrusts – his lips on your forehead in a prolonged kiss.

You pant out sticky whines as he ruts inside you – fat cock stretching you badly for your first time – making everything sting numbly, only partly soothed by a tickling pleasure – tummy feeling hot and tight until it all snaps again, leaving you to shake on the massive member, throttling him all so sweetly.

“I love you, baby~ love you and your tight pussy~ squeezing me so good~” He slurs against you, drooling on your skin. “Gonna fill you up with love – all of it – all of it in your sweet pussy~”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Kirishima, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Mahito, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Toji ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[strawbeerossi]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Spencer is awake late at night while you're peacefully asleep. That's when he's reminded about a few little agreements you've had.

Content/Warnings: Course language, brief masturbation (m), consensual somnophilia, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie.

Word Count: 1.3K

Kinktober Day Seventeen: Somnophilia

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer spent his time at work more often than not, which you understood how important his job was to him. You’d known the inside and out of the job and all the darkness hidden within it, so you always gave an overwhelming amount of love and support. There was a lot of patience and trust placed within one another, your husband knowing that you were always going to be there for him and that he should show he would always be there for you as well. You never expected anything big out of him after cases, just willing to hold him and let him cry into your shoulder if the cases were overwhelming for him. 

It had been three days since Spencer was home from one of his cases, the both of you laying in bed alongside one another as the both of you were looking forward to a good night's sleep. Spencer wasn’t getting much of it though, his head against his pillow while your soft breaths from peaceful sleep filled the room. With an arm behind his head, the male sighed in frustration. Insomnia hit him hard on nights like this one, when you fell asleep first and couldn’t exactly hold him due to you being dead to the world. 

He had contemplated reading, however he knew the light would wake you up and irritate you. He definitely didn’t need a cranky version of you being angry at him for the remainder of the night and even the next day. So, he reverted back to his usual ways of making himself tired. His hands were slowly pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxers as he let his eyes flutter shut. Thankfully for eidetic memory, he could practically watch any past sexual encounter with you in his head like a dirty movie. Right now, he had a specific night in mind. 

You’d been desperate and he was asleep, due to a previous talk of boundaries and consent for certain actions, you decided to try something new. He could remember his eyes slowly blinking open and being met with your face twisted with ecstasy, hands resting against his chest as your desperate and leaking cunt was embracing his cock while your hips were feverishly rutting against his. It showed how much you needed him, even getting to the point where you fucked him as he slept just to not disturb his sleep.

Just the mere thought of your tits in clear view of his gaze had Spencer letting out a low groan. He was fully erect now, his hand fisting at his cock as he let his mind continue replaying the same moments that so graciously flooded his brain. He’d continued with his movements before glancing over at you, the moonlight seeping in from the drapes shining against your sleeping silhouette. It gave him an idea, one that sent another rush of blood to his cock as he was slowing his movements with his hand. Gently tugging the duvet and sheets back, he was looking over your body.

You were wearing a silk lilac nightgown, one of his favorites. It was like you did this on purpose, as if you knew your husband would have an insomnia spell. With his hand coming up to his mouth, he was popping two of his fingers into his mouth as he was scooting towards you more. His free hand was sliding under the tempting nightgown, his hand slowly tugging down your panties as he kept his gaze on you. He wanted to see how long he could drag this out without waking you. After getting the cloth barrier out of his way, Spencer was using one of the slick fingers to slowly push into your cunt. The touch had your sleeping form let out a breath, the long digit being welcomed as your walls were squeezing around it. 

He slowly thrusted his finger, a soft groan leaving his lips as you were responding well, probably having your dream taking a sharp turn as he was fucking you with his pointer finger. Your arousal was starting to coat his finger, the male smirking as he gently pushed in a second finger, a moan now falling out of your lips as you were shifting in place. The way your sleeping face twisted in ecstasy had your husband grinning as he pressed a few kisses along your shoulder. As his fingertips were brushing against the spongy button deep inside of you,your body was reacting accordingly as your thighs clenched around his hand, still assuming this was a dream as you were rocking your hips against his fingers. 

“Poor desperate girl..” Spencer whispered while continuing to prod your needy cunt with the two long digits. Whenever he’d had enough waiting though, he’d carefully pulled his fingers out of your hole before bringing them up to his lips to clean your essence off of them.

There were desperate whines escaping your lips at the feeling of emptiness, your hips attempting to rock back. “Shh, I know.” Spencer murmured in your ear, one hand gently lifting one of your legs, his free hand helping adjust his cock at your leaking hole that was clenching around nothing. As the thick tip of his throbbing cock was slowly pushing into your warmth, you were letting out a breathy moan in your sleeping state, hand instinctively reaching back to grip at the back of your husband’s head as you were both still in the spooning position. 

As your pussy swallowed his cock whole, he was letting his lips press a few kisses against your neck as he was slowly letting his hips rut into yours. Now it only took a few good strokes before you were blinking awake, hand lightly pulling at the curls that you had a handful of. “Good morning to you too.” You whispered, drowsiness in your voice as you were moving to rock your hips back against his.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He murmured against your skin, hand moving to squeeze your hip. “Was jerking off and then i remembered that your sweet pussy would be waiting for me.” He lightly bit down on the flesh of your neck that made a moan fall from your parted lips. “Mm, I’m not complaining. I love being stuffed with your cock.” The filthy words leaving your lips had your husband groaning, head lifting. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” He spoke through pants and whines, his thrusts speeding up as his hand was wrapping around your body, large hand taking one of your tits into his hand before giving a rough squeeze. 

As the rhythmic sound of your skin smacking against one another filled the room along with your combined sounds of pleasure, it hadn’t been long until you could feel Spencer’s hand trail between your legs, finger finding your clit with ease as he massaged the desperate bud. He was close and you were too.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You spoke through moans, his hips thrusting snapping harder into yours as he nodded. “M-me too.” He’d stated the obvious, working to bring you to orgasm first. The feeling of your walls tightly clenching around him was enough to make his cock twitch inside of you before painting your inner walls with ribbons of his cum, hips slowly coming to a stop. 

After he was pulling out of you, he couldn’t help but lift the sheets to look at your cunt, which had been stuffed with his cum to the point where it was leaking down your thighs. “We should get you cleaned up. Plus you have to pee.” He panted, moving to rub your hip while tugging back the sheets for you to get up. “I’m going to take a shower, care to join me?” You’d asked, legs wobbling slightly as you stood from your shared bed. 

You didn’t have to ask him twice, the male sliding out of bed before he was heading over to pick you up with a smile. “Not too long though,” He began, a yawn now falling from his lips.

“I’m ready to pass out.”

[moechies]

bully gojo zzZ

super mean bully gojo who makes fun of you for not giving good head :( he knows you’re not experienced, and you really are trying your best to please him but it never pays off!

he’s constantly teasing you over and over for doing such a poor job, but never lets you by before he has you on knees sloppily drooling all over his stupidly big dick. you just don’t get it.

“such a sloppy mouth. ‘s a shame you don’t know how t’ use it.” he sighs.

the tip of his flushed cock lays flatly against your tongue, your drool and spit messily dripping all over the place, over his shaft and onto his hand. his thumb lays besides his cock inside your mouth, pressing on your tongue. he pays your mess no mind, fully attentive to how you plan to take him this time around.

your doe eyes come up to meet his, a silent cry for him to help. his stares back, his gaze piercing into your skin, shutting your eyes quickly to avoid his confrontation.

“suck it, baby. i shouldn’t need t’tell you that.” he mumbles firmly.

your fat lips wrap come to wrap around his sloppy cock head, only forcing yourself down halfway before it elicits a loud gag. you squeeze your eyes tight to prevent the tears pricking at your eyes from falling, attempting to pull yourself off per usual, but this time you’re stopped by a harsh hand behind your head.

“stop running. y’r gonna have to take it all at some point, dumb brat. might as well have it be this time, hm?”

you open your eyes in terror, and he only chuckles. he allows you to calm yourself, shallow but gentle thrusts allowing you to get used to the feeling.

he loathed having to treat you like a porcelain doll, but he knows that would’ve been broken long ago if he didn’t handle you so tenderly. and he can’t have that happening.

“loosen your throat.”

you squeeze your eyes tight, waiting for the moment he attempts to purse himself deeper in your throat. it burns, the way his mere girth is able to stretch all of you to impeccable lengths. the corners of your lips strain, spluttering as he holds your head in place and nudges his hips further into mouth.

you can’t help but hiccup around him, your throat convulsing perfectly to his liking.

“‘s too tight..” he whines, still mindlessly attempting to shove your mouth down on him completely.

“i guess that jus’ means we need t’do this more often.”

[l13]

The loud thumping wakes you up, and you blink tiredly as the sound persists. You look at your ceiling for a second before you realize someone is knocking at your door. You groan, bringing your duvet over your ear as you snuggle in again.

“Leave me alone,” you mumble against your pillow as the knocking becomes more forceful.

Suddenly there’s silence, and when you finally think that whoever is bothering you has left, the knocking starts again.

You groan, cursing under your breath as you stand up, grabbing your gun from your vanity. You walk to your front door, opening it angrily.

“What-” your outburst dies down at your lips when you lock eyes with the last person you’d expected to see standing outside your apartment, but one you’d longed for, for years.

Your first instinct is to panic, there’s no way you were conscious. The person standing at your door was supposed to be dead.

So you raise your gun up, hand trembling, “This isn’t real.” you choke out, and Vander raises his hands slowly, opening his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “You’re not real, you’re not here.” There are tears dripping down your cheeks, the gun threatening to fall from your hand with how much you were shaking “Y-you’re dead, this can’t-” you clutch at your chest, heaving, and Vander’s hands grab at your shoulders when your knees buckle,

“My love,” The gun slips from your shaky grip and falls to the floor the moment the words leave his mouth. His voice, god fuck, his voice. You’ve dreamed of it, you’re certain you’ve heard it, back when the grief first clawed at your heart, when the illusions spilled into reality to try to mend what was broken.

But this sounded too real, and you gasped when his hand cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Darling, my darling girl. It’s me,” the sweet but rough sound of his voice sent shivers down your back, and you wanted to drown in it, you wanted to hear it again and again and again until you couldn’t anymore. You blinked rapidly, tears blurring your vision as your eyes danced across his features, the five bright white dots across his forehead would have confused you, if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

You didn’t realize you’d raised your hand to cover his, until you felt the warmth of his hand under your skin. “S-stop, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real,” you squeezed your eyes shut, whispering frantically in order to wake up from this sickly realistic dream, to end this before you woke up and missed his touch again. And yet you craved more, desperately running your hands down his sides, back up to his chest, his shoulders, his back.

God, he felt real, and he was so warm, not like the previous dreams you’ve had when he was always cold, just a silhouette of the man you loved. He even smelled like your Vander. A sob broke through you, and you threw your hands around his neck, crying against his chest. Even if this wasn’t real, you’d still take advantage of this opportunity to feel close to him one last time.

You tried not to cry harder when his arms immediately circled around your torso, hugging you tight to him as you both slipped down to the floor, “Shh sh, love it’s me. Please, look at me,”

“If I do then I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.” you muttered against his chest, nuzzling closer to him, “Let me have this, just for a moment.”

“You have me, forever.” His rough gravelly voice vibrated against your chest as he spoke, his breath hitting your ear as he nuzzled against your hair, his hands running up and down your back, spreading warmth everywhere.

Too real, too real, too real.

“I miss you so much. I-I can’t-” you take a shuddering breath in, “I can’t live without you. I need you back, please. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“My love, my heart. You beautiful, stunning creature. Look at me, I beg you.”

You could feel him leaning away just so he could cup your jaw, lifting your head up softly, so so softly.

Please.

“Look at me.” he mutters, the softness of his request filled with desperation. You slowly open your eyes, blinking away your tears, gaze immediately locking with his.

Your lips part as you take him in. The color of his eyes was much greyer than you remembered. You raised your hand to follow each feature, each wrinkle of his. After a moment, You brought your other hand up, as well, cupping both his cheeks in your hands, feeling his stubble prickle at your palms. “Vander… This- this can’t be real.” you move to pull away but he cups both your hands, keeping you in place, leaning his forehead against yours, “It can, it is. I’m here honey. I’m here.”

You can’t help but stare at his lips, watching them move as he speaks, your mind trying to make sense of what you’re seeing, hearing, feeling.

Please.

You can’t let yourself get too hopeful because this isn’t possible, and he seems to get it too, so he starts explaining.

He tells you everything. How he was on the verge of death, how a man, Singed, found him, turned him into something vile, but the mutation kept him alive, even if he wasn’t entirely himself. He tells you about how all he felt was pain, but you and the kids were the only thing in his mind the whole time, trying to block away everything else. Tells you about Powder, Vi, and Isha, how they found him, brought him somewhere, a colony of some sort. A man, the Herald, helped him, and “..honest to God he kind of scares me, but it-it didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now because I’m here. I’m here with you.”

Please.

You don’t realize you’ve lost track of time until you’re looking at yourself. You blink quickly, eyebrows furrowing, but then you realize you’re looking at yourself in the mirror. Vander is still holding you tightly, and the side of your face is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he whispers sweet nothings against the crown of your head. You stay there, listening to his voice and his heart for what feels like forever.

He grabs your shoulders, pulling you away from him just enough for him to look at you in the eyes, “Are you okay?” he asks, but his voice is muffled, sounding too far away. You blink slowly up at him and he frowns sadly.

“I missed you so much. Even in death I missed you, but I wasn’t selfish enough to wish I could see you again because that would mean you’d-” he cuts himself off, the strands of his hair moving as he shakes his head, eyes clenched shut as if to rid himself of that painful thought. “I-I’m here. I’m real. Darling, I’m alive, and I need you to know this.”

His eyes are pained as he stares down at you, once again cupping your jaw, thumb caressing your cheekbone “Say something.”

“I love you.”

His face immediately crumbles, eyebrows squeezing together as his tears start falling, and he tucks his head against the place between your neck and shoulder, crying as he squeezes you impossible tighter, “I love you.” he chokes out, and you feel him pepper soft kisses over your skin, the brokenness of his voice bringing fresh tears to your eyes as well.

You don’t know how long you stay tangled together like this, just holding each other, but Vander leans back suddenly, looking at you with so much adoration that it makes you want to scream. “Hi,” he mumbles, petting your hair softly, his other hand drawing circles on your back.

You start pressing soft kisses all over his face, not being able to contain your affection, and he closes his eyes, laughing giddily, the deep sound traveling over your skin, spreading warmth everywhere. God, you’ve missed this, missed him. “Hi.” you mutter, pressing one last kiss at the corner of his mouth.

His puffy eyes glance down at your lips, “Can I-”

“Please.”

He kisses you.

2024 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[tbaluver]

picture you

pairing: zayne x fem! reader wc: 806 cw: zayne masturbates at the thought of you, many thoughts of you a/n: this was inspo from chappell roan's song picture you and the new zayne card that comes out in 5 hours for me (╥﹏╥) and also i read somewhere on twitter that ears can be found as erogenous so thats how this fic came to life! also i think abt this card so often its getting unhealthy but anyways i hope you all enjoy reading! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

shameless. how could he be so absolutely shameless.

zayne the man who always had everything under control. zayne who rarely ever touched himself. the man who never had time for such a release.

he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his room was dim and quiet. his hair tousled from repeatedly running his fingers through it. he’s tried to distract himself, key word try. but nothing worked. you were everywhere. the thoughts of you plagued his mind and body.

you already left a couple minutes ago but the thought of you lingered in his mind. the way you teasingly tugged at his ear, your fingers gently massaging behind it, leaving him flustered on the spot.

was it that easy? a single touch to feel a rush coursing lower in him. luckily he managed to dodge your next attempt but just that touch alone replays in his mind.

the dull ache crept between his thighs as he tried his hardest to let the feeling pass before it spread across his body. he struggled to fight the urge to move his hand down to feel himself. but it wouldn’t hurt even if it was just through his clothes or even squirm a little. it would go away eventually, right?

he tried fighting back these images of you but the more he fights it, the thoughts of you replay again and again and further deeper into this spiral of dirty fantasies in his mind. he wondered if he kept you awake and made you press your pretty thighs together to ignore this shameless feeling. Zayne couldn’t help but let out a soft groan at the thought of you touching yourself.

he clenches his eyes shut, his control slowly slipping away. he felt himself grow harder on how good it must feel to have your hands tease him instead of his own. how erect your nipples must be before he latches his hands and mouth onto them.

he felt himself grow harder, his underwear constricting him painfully as his mind continues to think of you softly moaning in his ears as he trails kisses down your neck while he pumps his fingers into you.

one time. this will only be one time.

he defeatedly slips down his pants, his dick straining hard against his boxers. he tugs it down quickly, his cock already leaking and throbbing, crying to get a release.

he closes his eyes, a soft moan escaping his lips as his thumb drags over his leaking slit before he slowly stroked himself. he drags his fist up and down his shaft thinking of how good it must feel to be inside of you. how your walls would welcome him so perfectly. oh, how so beautiful you must look bouncing up and down on his cock while he keeps his hands placed on your hips.

the thought of your pussy clenching around him and how you would breathlessly moan his name made his hips buck, his pace coming faster, more satisfying. probably not as satisfying with him inside you.

his eyebrows furrow, he’s close. his hand focuses on his swollen tip as he pumps faster and faster. he imagines how your walls would spasm around him, him filling you up til the point it was dripping down your thigh.

low grunts escape his mouth as his fist squeezes his cock tighter, his biceps flexing as he increases his pace. how he wished to hear your sweet sounds and how they would be music to his ears, knowing it was making you feel good.

he was so close that filthy sounds were escaping his mouth. “f-fuck-,” he groans through his tensed jaw, words he never thought would leave his lips so easily.

he thought of the way your walls fluttered around him and how your eyes would rock back into your head as you came on his cock for who knows what round it was in his head. how he would hold you so gently while planting lovingly kisses all over you and tell you how you did so well.

hot cum spurts out of his cock, running down his hand as he continues to stroke himself through his orgasm. his pace would eventually slow down, his hand and cock painted white. he breathed in deeply realizing the mess he made, all because of you.

he sighs, momentarily staying in his bed. his mind still hazy from all the flurry of scenarios that flashed through his thoughts as he touched himself. just as he was about to sit up and tidy up the mess he made, his phone lit up. he peeks over and sees the familiar contact photo on the notification, the girl who was on his mind.

(y/n)❅: zayne i think i left a couple music sheets there. im on my way back i hope that's alright ˙ᵕ˙