#but he didn’t BECAUSE he is a predator
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Neil Gaiman intentionally chose tumblr to be his main social media site because it is crawling with vulnerable young women who idolized him. He invested in parasocial relationships before we even had a word for it. Even now after everything has come out I’m still seeing people say his presence on this website was a net positive. How many victims will it take? How many women need to be preyed upon by how many men before were willing to question someones intentions?
“Well they bullied John Green from the website with false allegations!” And? Seems like the only issue was they went after the (as far as I know) wrong person.
Neil Gaiman was here, DMs open, for years. There’s a very heavy current of #NotAllMen coming from people who are supposedly shocked and dismayed by the allegations. YA authors have a particularly vulnerable readership group. YA authors who wrote about trauma and abuse have an even more vulnerable group. Almost all of those authors are in fact able to write about these things, connect with fans, provide feedback and insight and appropriate support, without intentionally soliciting emotional attachment from their fans. They know what reasonable boundaries are. Neil Gaiman did not have reasonable boundaries. He had hunting grounds, potential victims, and adoring fans who he manipulated into protecting him from criticism.
#neil gaiman#frankly John Green they did you a favor there needs to be reasonable distance from your audience#because you do not know these girls and are simply not in a position to actually help them or support them even if you wish you were#become a teacher if you want to help students in crisis#Dont come on tumblr with open DMs and act like you’re the good guy#it is not normal to foster these kinds of relationships when you are an influential author with a vulnerable young fan base#Neil Gaiman is not a regular person he has extraordinary power and should have been held to a higher standard#he should have had reasonable boundaries with fans#but he didn’t BECAUSE he is a predator#feel like tumblr knew what grooming was a week ago but suddenly with Neil there were just no signs at all!#but maybe I’m just heartbroken to hear of yet another batch of women sacrificed to a man for the sake of so called art#and yes you should read his work differently now that you know Calliope wasnt a metaphor to him
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I just realized some people are confused about events in the alluded to past in Mouthwashing, particularly about how long the crew has been working together.
The only person who is truly new is Daisuke and it’s why his dynamic with the crew and role in the story is very unique and somewhat distant. Curly didn’t just get Jimmy this job on the Tulpar, he got him the job with the Pony Express. He’s been his copilot for probably a couple of years but still not as long as they’ve been friends. None of them are new with the freight industry, Anya and Swansea especially have been doing this for years, together.
Jimmy is the newest on the regular crew, maybe just a few assignments, but it’s not his first time working with them. I think it’s just something important because this isn’t just one bad mistake that snowballed with giving Jimmy the job. None of them thought Jimmy would do anything, no matter how off-put by him they could’ve been, since he hadn’t done a thing since being there. Generally unpleasantness isn’t a crime and he’d be aware of that.
It was a festering thing and a sort of forced trust they had to give him that he knowingly took advantage of. He was the black sheep and still a wolf under the wool. He expected when he lashed out, that he had been there long enough for it to be looked over completely. Got too comfortable in the space he inserted into and did a lot of damage with his claws when he felt he was going to get shaken out.
#I think acting like if Curly just didn’t give Jim the job this wouldn’t have happened is underplaying that they’ve all been working for PE#for a bit and that Jimmy got comfortable enough to do something horrible like#a lot of factors made the trip being out the worse parts of them but Jimmy was slowly letting his worse parts show and I think people assume#that this was one a few mission he went on with Curly and that he advocated for him completely when it was more likely#he pulled some strings so Jimmy could work right under him and stay out of trouble with a decent job and it back fired cause Jimmy is just#not a good person like I see people acting like his breakdown and choice to crash the ship was because this was probably one of the last#chances to fix his life and he couldn’t admit he fucked up soemthing literally handed to him so badly and cruelly#I think people forget that predators like Jimmy rarely do anything the first day. or week or month or year#they ingrain themselves into the schedule and dynamic and build a sort of stability that make it harder to knock them down or push back#he has Curly’s trust as the co pilot and as a friend#Swansea doesn’t like him but doesn’t trust him and Anya is just wary initially#he doesnt even attack her at the start of the trip it’s implied it happens after the psyche evals and when she confides in Curly how#patronizing he is to her and her position. he’s retaliating against a perceived slight to his stability to him it was pure act of power and#anger because he’s at his core an avoidant bully who can’t take responsibility#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#jimmy mouthwashing#I didn’t want this to be a Jimmy post but it is#more so about how abusers like Jimmy work but I digress cause most of it’s in the comments
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honestly i think a big part of cursedwip is asking the question “and what if the vampire was poor.”
#like. dee’s family is wealthy. much more classically vampiric.#even tho they’re not immortal they’ve been amassing wealth & power for generations in a way that makes them feel immortal.#but adrianna is broke.#you don’t see vampires in media being poor.#how does that affect the way they are perceived. what unique challenges does that present.#(this is in response to the ‘dracula didn’t live in a castle bc he’s a vampire but because he’s a count’ thing)#like. i can’t think of any vampire media where the vampire isn’t well-off and living on some elevated plane of class & wealth.#even in the YA vampire craze. they were all going to elite schools or had basements full of portraits or houses on acres of land.#adrianna dropped out of school and can’t pay her rent.#and even if she WASNT a criminal. public perception would turn her into a predator anyway.#bc she can’t afford blood from the hospital. so that would make her Dangerous to every human she meets right??#(not right. but. when there’s bigotry! and fear! etc!!)#izzy.txt#cursedwip
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Sacrificial lamb and all that
#baby baby baby#He said :(#and#he said ☹️#The way Kreese stared at him and hovered like a hungry wolf ready to pounce the whole time#the way Johnny tried not to cry and sweat and went straight into the arms of his predator like he has for YEARS#because he’d been literally in Kreese’s hands. Given to him and left with him. for YEARS.#And the way he stared up at him so desperate and melted into his grasp#let him swipe his hurting nose and obeyed when he made him do something he didn’t want to#because who else does he have. And his mom wasn’t there. and he had to go home with bruises all over him and no one#to Sid. to be mocked and laughed at some more. to cry all alone in his bed thinking about how the man he trusted and loved hurt him#And I think Kreese was more jealous. murderously so. that Johnny clearly wanted to be on good terms with LaRusso rather than so mad he lost#and by the time he realized he went too far and he lost his little champion—whom he ‘loves most besides CK’—he decided to get revenge on#Miyagi and Daniel. because it’s THEIR fault he did that to johnny in the first place. he hates them both with a passion. HE was humiliated#in front of his boy and the rest of the cobras by Miyagi. and Daniel…he changed Johnny. he practically took him away from Kreese.#Man is delusional cause that’s 10000% how he sees things#and GOD the way he begs Johnny to come back in ck. and then hurt him more because ‘thats what was best for him’#and Johnny moves away from his touch and stares at him like an abused animal but still lets him stay#because he still loves him despite everything#he knows Kreese is in his own reality and does love him. but he realized his worth to an extent#realized its not okay for Kreese to have done all those things to him#and brainwashed him#and he was being victim blamed the whole time Kreese came back to cobra kai#I cant.#I’m SCREAMING. everything was taken from him but it was his fault because he ‘shouldnt have let Kreese come back’#Only unobservant idiots ignore the fact that he was abused his whole life just so they can hate on him constantly.#johnny lawrence#cobra kai#karate kid#Still love Kreese though
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WOOOOO MICKEY MOUSE IS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN and also Minnie Mouse and Pete WOOOOO MICKEY MOUSE!!
#mickey mouse#steamboat willie#minnie mouse#public domain#pete actually predates mickey by three years so he’s been public domain for a while#but steamboat willie was the first time he was outright confirmed to be a cat#did you know pete is a cat because I didn’t
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All the way up until UTRH there are a dozen moments where things could’ve gone differently, where Jason almost could’ve been found where he was almost saved. But each time at the last moment, by some small detail or turn of fate, he is failed. It’s so damn sad, but also it’s very important narrative context for Talia’s character and what she does in the last issue of Lost Days
Up until then Talia had been encouraging Jason to let go of his resentment, channeling that energy into being a hero again. He goes from murderous intent so strong it eclipses everything else to admitting out loud he doesn’t want to kill Bruce anymore, he knows Talia has been stalling him, and it’s okay. That moment would be so ripe for Talia to help him grieve or get over Bruce or whatever it is Jason needs to really live again…but she doesn’t. Because in this last meeting between the two of them Talia herself is not in her right mind. Grieving her father and having been tortured until her personality is unrecognizable, Talia directs Jason to punish Bruce another way. ‘Fate is commanding your life in a way that I can barely fathom’ indeed.
Between them I think the mutual guilt is what makes them grow apart. Talia for being the one set Jason on the path he took, and Jason for not noticing Talia’s state when she was right in front of him.
#holding white knuckled onto the assertion that Talia didn’t become weird creepy evil lady until Nyssa tortured her#no the kids in Batman annual 25 didn’t happen#and if it did it was platonic the way I kiss my mother because Jason WAS BEING FLUNG OFF A CLIFF and who knows if he was going to make it#the worst part is that the racism and sexism in Lost Days is rooted DEEP#of course the beautiful powerful asian woman wants to fuck the white teenage boy#and of course that’s okay and not a thing that makes her a predator! waow what a sex y fant a see!#agshskdkdkgldn#she’s not even supposed to be evil the audience is just supposed to accept that this is no biggie
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so apparently the 40yr old man at the coffee shop me and my sister used to go to that made us hella uncomfortable and said I looked 16 while flirting with me is an actual predator that sexually assaulted 2 teen girls that worked with him. I’m actually nauseated rn.
#g talks#he’s made us so fucking uncomfortable#we stopped going like a couple months after we found the place#because of that freak#he’s made gross comments to both of us#apparently his friends in town are covering for him#because the girls made a police report#he didn’t even deny the accusations#which are absolutely insane#he just said no comment#like a fucking predator#my dad voted for that guy for city council#even though we told him how much of a creep he was#I’m so disgusted#mine#/mobile#/okay to reblog
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Reading MW takes on Twitter is like reading a summary of the Bible from someone who only watched like a Family Guy family special about it
#did we play the same game? did we see the same themes yes themes as in plural#like my god get off ur fucking high horses or stop trying to make a unique theory just to be unique#like if it clearly doesn’t fit the plot it causes unnecessary arguments#people are weird and weirdly obsessed with making like the issues in the game solely interpersonal when it is clearly very institutional#with everything we learn about PE and how hard they make it to seek justice or safety#and ur treating it like the average person is a horrible troll monster#when the game really tries to show you how humans people become bad or can be enabled to do their worse through many different ways#but go ahead make it seem like all the men are like willingly Jimmy’s goon squad of predator enablers pls pls pls just look from another#view point I’m begging yall sometimes it’s good to leave those echo chambers#like taking parts of conversations out of context to make characters look better or worse is literally a tactic Jimmy uses ur using Jimmy#tactics to prove ur point dummy head#side tag tangent I am also very annoyed with how many people really do think Curly could’ve just had changes made to the ship during the#travel like a big point is that they barely had resources to just survive regularly#other than random scrap and wires for serious repairs they def didn’t just have locks laying about nor are the doors outside of medical and#the cockpit are suited to install locks like the whole point of the illusion of choice#is that at the end the options presented were never gonna be viable whether it was because of the time needed to execute them the standards#they were under or their lack of resources all mainly caused by PE no matter how much Curly#wanted to do something there’s very little he could’ve#even the ideas posed we have would have only happened after the assault and done little to actually stop the crash when you think about it#and it’s sad and sounds weird but that’s the case#mouthwashing
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I wanted to post the red dodgeball prophecy meme to make OP feel seen but wasn’t so sure if it was a super common belief that the eagle/call to action/“guy who comes to take you home” was Apollo. Ok hold on.
Solsbury Hill is in Somerset, and the city with lights is Bath.
Like many decent hills in the area it had an Iron Age hill fort. It is calcareous grassland (thin soil over chalk) and has some rare meadow species. Solsbury Hill is in decent striking distance of Glastonbury Tor and the unhinged new age/druid town of Glastonbury, and, in another direction, Stonehenge (and the competing Silbury Hill) but is (confusingly!) nowhere near Salisbury. The names sound the same but are different. something about chalk hills makes certain writers lose their damn minds… but there’s also the local idea that Peter Gabriel like… met Apollo.
It’s said that the deeply weird mythical British king Bladud, known for his careful observation of pigs, progressive attitude towards necromancy, founding of the city of Bath, and his mechanical wings - quite an interesting guy, easily in the top 10 legendary swineherd necromancer engineer kings - dedicated a temple to Apollo (the god of music, inspiration, prophecy and red dodgeballs) on Solsbury Hill, though now that I want to find one, I can only find self-referencing references about this, like this: https://www.akemanpress.com/2017/06/02/view-little-solsbury/
Of course Peter Gabriel only says that he meditated on the hill and was thinking about general stuff, but since he says in the song itself that he was struggling to think of how to explain his experience to everyone who would find him crazy, it ironically just makes the conspiracy theory stronger. That’s just what someone who wrote an Apollo-induced song WOULD say, you see?
(Interestingly; Solsbury Hill may have gotten its name from Sulis, the Celtic goddess of Bath, whom the Romans later sort of co-opted into Sulis Minerva. Her name may have meant “sight.” So even if Apollo wasn’t realistically at home on a hill in England, because that’s a frankly big reach, there was still a potential local deity to speak to Peter Gabriel. Anyway people sometimes sneakily camp on the hill to get hit with the Inspiration. There’s a labyrinth and stuff.)
(Ok so it turns out that this is not at all known so. Like. Apologies for this whole explanation.)
Anyway OP you wanted to feel seen!! here he comes to take you home!!!!
CLIMBING UP ON SOLSBURY HILL I COULD SEE THE CITY LIGHTS WIND WAS BLOWING TIME STOOD STILL EAGLE FLEW OUT OF THE NIGHT HE WAS SOMERHING TO OBSERVE CAME IN CLOSE IIII HEARD A VOICE STANDING STRETCHING EVERY NERVE I HAD TO LISTEN I HAD NO CHOICE I DID NOT BELIEVE THE INFORMATION JUST HAD TO TRUST IMAGINATION MY HEART GOING BOOM BOOM BOOM SON! HE SAID! GRAB YOUR THINGS IVE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME 😭😭😭😭 TO KEEP IN SILENCE I RESIGNED MY FRIENDS WOULD THINK I WAS A NUT TURNING WATER INTO WINE OPENED DOORS WOULD SOON BE SHUT SO I WENT FROM DAY TO DAY THOUGH MY LIFE WAS IN A RUT TIL I THOUGHT OF WHAT ID SAY .. WHICH CONNECTION I SHOULD CUT I WAS FEELING PART OF THE SCENERY I WALKED RIGHT OUT OF THE MACHINERY MY HEART GOING BOOM BOOM BOOM HEY HE SAID GRAB YOUR THINGS IVE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME HEEEEEEYYYY BACK HOMEEEEE WHEN ILLUSION SPIN HER NET IM NEVER WHERE I WANNA BE AND LIBERTY SHE PIROUETTE WHEN I THINK THAT I AM FREE WATCHED BY EMPTY SILLHOUETTEs WHO CLOSE THEIR EYES BUT STILL CAN SEE NO ONE TAUGHT THEM ETIQUETTE I WILL SHOW ANOTHER ME TODAY I DONT! NEED! A REPLACEMENT! ILL TELL THEM WHAT THE SMILE ON MY FACE MEANT MY HEART GOING BOOM BOOM BOOM HEY!!!! I SAID YOU CAN KEEP MY THINGS THEYVE COME TO TAKE ME HOME!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
#bladud was the father of king Lear#the Shakespeare one yeah#and if the wings were attributed to him in his correct time he predated Icarus#by several hundred years!!#they probably weren’t though#because it is unlikely that he was precisely real#and that he precisely built mechanical wings out of feathers 700 years before Icarus.#he probably didn’t found bath#he probably couldn’t talk to dead people#and he probably didn’t#do a lot of things#including breathe#I saw a blog post exploring whether Bladud might be an aggregation or aspect of Daedalus#with the Athena patronages and Apollo dedications matching as well as the mechanical wings#which would be quite funny because king Lear is not Icarus#bladud as both Icarus and Daedalus#sittin in the spa with his pigs#and some thousands of years later people pretend they totally don’t#camp on this hill#to get hit with the songwriting dodgeball
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IF YOU NEEDED ME !
simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !
tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader
cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)
; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.
or.
he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.
Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable.
You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.
A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.
“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.
“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.
He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator.
“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.
You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”
He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”
“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”
Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.
A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money.
You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared.
But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing.
You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.
Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava.
You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.
You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest.
You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you.
Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit.
Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time.
Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.
“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”
“I–”
“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”
“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.
You’re so pissed.
Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth.
But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.
How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason.
“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.
“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.
You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck.
By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend.
You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought.
When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone.
You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.
It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit.
You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible.
You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment.
You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound.
The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open.
Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time.
He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.
“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.
He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it.
He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger.
“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”
He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.
“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”
“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.
“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.
“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”
Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”
“And now you have it,” he says with finality.
He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military.
“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles.
“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”
“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”
“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”
You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.
You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”
“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.
You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy.
He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”
“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.
“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”
The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true.
You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.
There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his.
He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you.
“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.
He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”
“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”
“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice.
The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more.
You want him.
Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you.
He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight.
A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before.
Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.
He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss.
Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs.
You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.
“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”
“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it.
“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.
“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest.
“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”
“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words.
You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon.
“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”
“I-I’m just–”
“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”
“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”
“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.
You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time.
Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.
As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this.
He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more.
When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration.
“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment.
His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one.
The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.
Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe.
“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically.
He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same.
He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.
To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.
He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.
He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating.
Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too.
He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected.
And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser.
“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering.
He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”
“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room.
“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up.
He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel.
You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident.
He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down.
Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view.
You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs.
His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.
As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force.
He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open.
Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body.
You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit.
“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud.
Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth.
You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples.
He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.
“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends.
You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”
“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole.
“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.
“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”
You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you.
He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time.
It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you.
As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling.
Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest.
He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm.
It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you.
“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think.
He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not.
And fuck, do you love it.
The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.
You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now.
Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers.
He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm.
He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt.
You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever.
His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke.
He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short.
“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.
“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.
“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet,
You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.
When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.
“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately.
Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against.
He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock.
You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you.
“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately.
He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again.
More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him.
He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest.
He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself.
“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”
“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”
“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”
“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right.
He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up.
He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you.
You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure.
Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly.
Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs.
You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.
“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”
“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.
“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face.
“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.
“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”
You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley.
He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you.
After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.
Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved.
You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock.
His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.
“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.
His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”
His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm.
When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong.
He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips.
“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”
“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession.
He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”
You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”
He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms.
You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he.
this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#cod x reader#cod smut#ghost x reader#ghost smut
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Children Record Re:boot came out one week before fearless (taylor’s version) by the way. jin did it first
#I was thinking abt it and then thinking why didn’t i immediately think oh he’s doing a Taylor’s version#it’s because he PREDATE IT#i mean I guess not her singles#still#personal
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BEAST FEAST ! — RYŌMEN SUKUNA.
synopsis. sukuna misses his mate so much that it begins to physically affect his vessel's body. they set off on a little mission in search of you, only to find themselves walking riiight into your waiting jaws. wc. 4.2k
tags. dom beast! reader, bottom! sukuna. reader has a cock. oviposition (eggs), size difference, large cock, i'm not joking around that thing is fucking ginormous, belly bulge, monsterfucking, cum inflation, breeding kink, mpreg, knotting, biting, rough anal sex, warning: sukuna's huge tits, appropriate amount of clothes-ripping, multiple orgasms, creampie, sukuna's hole leaks slick, soft & needy sukuna.
a/n. inspired by this ask. thank you for the wonderful thirst <3
Sukuna was a predator. He did not fear, did not run from measly little things like monsters, because hardly anything could be more terrifying than he was.
But for the first time in his life, he felt like he was prey.
Hulking, sharp teeth bared, and with four piercing slit-like eyes, you rose to your full height, a low growl sounding at the back of your throat. Primal hunger radiated from your entire being as you stalked closer and closer, horns lowered in a position ready to strike, your tail whipping the jagged ends of the cave, sending little sparks alive.
“S-Sukuna, I think we should leave...” Yuuji stammered, starting to back out, but his cheek split open at once and a mouth appeared, snarling out a command to stay.
“Let me take over,” Sukuna muttered. “I will handle this, brat.”
Yuuji looked hesitant about giving up control on his body. Still, there were little options to pick and choose from at the moment, and the beast, you, was approaching them with haste. Each heavy step you took announced your presence, causing the ground to quake, crushed rock particles raining down like fine powder.
Your eyes narrowed in onto the human at the mouth of the cave, no larger than one-fifth of your size, nor taller. Something coursed through you, sharp and warm and instantaneous, like static electricity.
Familiarity.
You came to a halt in front of him as tribal tattoos materialised on his skin, stretching across the expanse of his handsome face and dipping into his clothed chest. Two dark bands wrapped themselves around each of his wrists, and you watched intensely as he raised one (not six)—slowly, as to not threaten you, fist unfurling into a gentle hand to press against the side of your muzzle.
Dark red eyes stared up at you with a bored expression.
“Silly dog,” Sukuna cooed, fond.
All of this was familiar territory, and you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck. He was looking at you like he knew what you wanted, too.
“Sukuna,” you growled, nuzzling into his hand, and he shuddered.
Closing his eyes, he curled a palm around one of your horns, bringing you down to press his forehead against yours, wanting to be close. You obliged easily, feeling his warm breath against yours, his touch surrounding you. The thrumming of his very much human heart against your lesser human one. You supposed it was a kind of feeling that no other living being could fathom. It wasn’t love, gods, no. It was something much more than that.
It was something that only the two of you shared.
“I made you wait,” Sukuna breathed, stroking the side of your face, and you snorted out an agreement.
He had made you wait for centuries. Centuries of spending night and day in a cold wet cave, alone. You used to spend weeks lying awake at a time, waiting, hoping he would come back, sharp instincts perking up at every slight noise coming from outside the cave, only for it to be a bird or a stupid human traveller. You had hoped so desperately before that hope died with your will to live, and if not for your curse of immortality, you would have ended it all. You hadn’t even bothered to make a proper nest, for all these years. It didn’t matter if your mate wasn’t there to appreciate it.
He had left you empty of meaning.
“... I don’t suppose you will want me to apologise for that.”
You stayed quiet. You weren’t looking for an apology. But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry with him.
“Words?” he said patiently, looking at you. “Tell me how you feel.”
“Nest,” you told him, and he watched helplessly as you shrugged his grip off and stalked past him, out of the cave and into the bright sunlight, for the first time in ages.
You gathered nesting materials as swiftly as you could, taking whatever you could find in the forest—dried-up twigs, leaves, bark strips, bird feathers, all the sort. They didn’t have the softest texture, but they would do for now.
You returned to a sweet, heady scent seeping out from inside the cave, each whiff sending delicious quivers down your spine. It was the kind of aphrodisiac that omegas in the wild would release if they wanted to attract an alpha, but these things did not matter to you much. Mate, your mind supplied. Breed. You shook it off as your body not being attuned to the unbearable warmth of the outside world. It was getting all your instincts mixed up.
Inside the cave, Sukuna was sitting on your poorly-made nest like it was a grand throne, thighs spread and arms hung out, exposing his most vulnerable parts—his neck, heart and belly—to you in such a casual manner that it set fuel to the burgeoning fire you had been trying to ignore in your abdomen.
He gave you a lazy look as you noticed, a smirk beginning to stretch across his face.
“You are back.”
You felt your fangs itch.
“I was going to rip these off,” Sukuna continued when you made no reply, pinching his clothes with a look of near disgust. “But I figured you would want to do it yourself…?”
You growled. You had been suppressing the urge to rip off all his clothes since the moment he emerged in front of you in those markings that you had recognised as yours, and somehow, he knew it.
“Sukuna,” you said. There was nothing else to say. You could feel yourself trembling with desire. Even he wouldn’t be able to take it, not in this weak form, no. “I need… to fix the nest.” The words came out flimsy and weak. An excuse.
“Take me,” he rasped out, as though reading your mind. He gestured to his stomach. “Forget the nest. I want you inside me. Right here.”
He watched you, a hint of desperation behind his stern gaze. You looked away.
“I am angry at you,” you confessed, the real reason for why you were so hesitant. It came out in a growl, and Sukuna shivered, baring his neck with a low whine.
“I can tell,” he murmured, breathless. “Take it out on me.”
It was tempting, really, having your mate spread out in front of you in your territory, willing and pliant, with only a thin, negligible barrier between you and what was yours. No, what used to be yours. You glared at his unblemished neck, now empty of a mating bite. It didn’t feel right, and the growing heat within you was telling you to either bite or break something.
“No.”
Sukuna cocked an eyebrow. “No?”
Trying your best to ignore him, you lumbered over, starting to rearrange the nest into something more presentable. As you got closer, the sweet scent intensified, like a field of blooming red roses, each one making you dizzy with desire. Mate, your instincts were telling you. Make him round and heavy with our offspring. Keep him here forever. Who knows where he’ll walk off to the next time we lose sight of him.
You could feel your cock sliding out from its sheath, steadily hardening as you pretended not to know where the smell was coming from.
Sukuna eyed you coyly as you moved closer to stuff a few feathers behind him, arching his back subtly as he settled into a more comfortable position, one that exposed the wet patch between his legs. He pulled down the mouth of his shirt to show his right pectoral, the thick black lines enticing you to trace them with your tongue.
Your cock swung heavily with every slight movement, and you could feel his hungry stare on it.
He opened his mouth. You stopped and stared back at him, daring him to speak. He sneered. “Your dick clearly disagrees—”
Sukuna yelped as you ripped his shirt open with your claws in one smooth movement, fully exposing his plump chest.
“Beautiful,” you growled in appreciation, flinging the shredded shirt away, and he panted out a victorious laugh, eagerly pushing out his tits for you to examine.
“Fucking finally.” He moaned unabashedly as you groped his pecs, careful not to graze him with your claws, but just as rough nonetheless—just the way he liked it. “Knew you would give in, haah.”
“Sukuna,” you warned, baring your teeth, but he only arched his neck in response, trying to get you to bite already.
“Put it in,” he whined. “Want your prick in me.”
You ripped his pants off next.
Your gaze raked down his body—this new, unfamiliar body of his that you should despise, because it was so human, so unlike him—but instead of feeling revulsion, you could only taste hunger. Saliva rapidly gathered in your mouth, threatening to spill out from the gaps of your sharp teeth.
If he belonged to you, then every form and body that he chooses to possess would belong to you, too. And naturally, this one did.
“Here,” Sukuna panted, reaching a hand between his legs to scissor his hole open for you. Viscous, syrupy slick dripped out, dousing your nest with his sweet smell, and all of this only served to drive you crazy with want. “Fuck me, ruin me, come on—”
The universe unravelled before you the moment you grabbed him by the hips and seated him on your cock in one violent thrust, and you groaned out loud and guttural, heavens and the earth be damned. You could have never forgotten how it felt, not since then, and never now, a sweltering, almost electrical connection burning through your bodies and sealing them together as one, like you were made to fit inside him, like he was made to be yours.
Sukuna was letting out a string of broken whimpers, face contorted in absolute bliss and pleasure as his rim stretched impossibly wide around your thick girth, his stomach bulging out to allow such a large intrusion. You yanked him further down the shaft of your cock, and he cried out, body convulsing as came—cock messily spurting on his chest.
“Shit,” he cursed, trembling as you began to move again. “F-forgot how big this thing is.”
You snarled. Guess you would just have to imprint your dick inside him to make sure he would never forget again.
You manoeuvred your grip to the back of his knees, supporting him in a secure hold, spreading his thighs wider so you could slide in deeper with his back pressed against your chest. You wanted to feel every inch of him, wanted him to sheath you, wanted to carve a space inside him that only you could ever breach. Sukuna howled out a profanity, throwing his head back to rest on your shoulder as pleasure overwhelmed him in waves.
He reached back to grab at your shoulders, horns, anything, struggling to push himself into a better position as you started to slowly thrust into him. Vulnerable was the first word that came to you. The second one was fragile, but that wasn’t the word for it, either. He was so little now—you could fit one hand completely around his waist, and you should be more gentle with him, really, but you knew he could take more.
“Look,” you said, peeking over his shoulder. Sukuna looked up at you, teary and confused, but before you could clarify, you reached a clawed hand to press against the obscene bulge on his navel, and his eyes rolled back with a loud, shuddering cry as he jerked in your arms, pressure immediately increasing tenfold.
“F-fuck,” he sobbed. You could feel the slick gushing out from around you and dripping down your thighs as he stared down for the first time, throat dry and unbreathing. “It’s too fuckin’ big.”
You applied more pressure, just to be cruel, watching as he choked on a moan, thighs quivering uncontrollably. He stared back up at you, as though searching for a reason for that, and couldn’t resist looking down again, at the huge swell over his stomach and abdomen—the print of your cock marking him as yours. He slowly pressed his hands over your larger ones, whimpering as he felt just how deeply you were buried inside him.
“It is not that big,” you sneered. “You are just small now.”
Sukuna scowled at your taunting words, shivering as you gently stroked his stomach. “Brat. That does not- ah- does not mean I cannot take you.”
You bared your teeth, trying for something similar to a smile. “I know.”
You knew that more than anyone. He was the strongest creature you had ever known, and would ever know. The only one you would ever bow down to, the only one you would serve and recognise as king.
You lapped up his tears, and Sukuna leaned heavily into your touch, like he had been starving for it.
He was starting to roll his hips impatiently, forcing the head of your cock to rub against his walls, lustful whimpers slipping out as he watched you move inside him. “I guess it has been a long time,” he heaved, trying to catch his breath as he worked himself up and down your shaft the best he could. “I am gonna—cum. Again. Hold me.”
It wasn’t an order as much as it was a plea.
You lifted his thigh high up to your chest, your other arm wrapping protectively around his waist as you violently slammed up into his tight hole, stuffing him full as he screamed. Strips of white painted his chest as he came all over himself, and you hooked your jaw over his shoulder to dutifully lick them up.
It took him less than a minute to recover, hips jerking in your grip and whimpering pitifully to get your attention.
“Fuck me,” he sobbed, way too sensitive as you started to move him up and down your cock again, canines grazing his neck. “Fuck me harder.”
You knew Sukuna wasn’t letting you do this only because he wanted you to let you take out your anger on him. He needed it himself, craved it, even—the violence, the overstimulation, the release. Centuries of not having you beside him. Centuries of being sealed up in a dark, empty space without the comfort of your warmth, the solace in your touch. He needed it now, more than ever, and you needed it too.
Ignoring his protests, you pulled him off your cock, setting him gently onto the nest on his hands and knees. Yanking his hips up, you forcefully pushed your shaft into him again, shoving him down by the neck when he tried to see what you were doing. He only moaned at the rough treatment, arching his back for you.
“Let me,” you told him, gently. “Let me take care of you.”
Sukuna panted, his two left eyes watching you with a strange reverence that only revealed itself when the two of you were alone and being intimate. It wasn’t exactly a promise to behave, but it was enough for you to start again.
Your tail curled around his thigh possessively, guiding it to spread wider as you rammed your hips against his repeatedly with heavy thrusts, the wet slaps deafeningly loud as they echoed through the cave. Sukuna had stopped trying to fuck himself on your cock, instead laying there and allowing you to position him as you wished, moaning lewdly every time the tapered tip of your cock forced itself against his sweet spot. He was squeezing deliciously around you with every thrust, his insides squelching as slick coated the entirety of your shaft, easing the stretch and glide.
“Gorgeous,” you growled, entranced by the way his hole greedily swallowed up your length, and he whined brokenly at the praise, trembling hands reaching back to spread himself open for you. You groaned out at the sight, driving yourself deep in before pulling out until only the tip stayed inside, and slamming back in again to drink in his pleasured cries. Somewhere in the middle of that he had cum again, spilling heavily into the nest as his knees gave out, legs shaking with overstimulation.
“So fuckin’ good,” Sukuna whimpered, no longer himself in the haze of his third orgasm—face smushed against the nest as he drooled. “Missed this—missed you so much, ah—”
You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the edges of your vision blurring as you snapped your teeth together, focused on getting him off as much as possible first. Something strange and heavy was churning deep within you, being slowly dragged out from your depths and solidifying at the base of your cock—a feeling you hadn’t felt for a long time, you almost forgot what it meant.
You didn’t even know if it was possible to impregnate him in this form.
“Fill me up,” he sobbed out, cockdrunk already. The stutter of your hips had given it away—it didn’t matter if it had been centuries—his body could recognise it coming from a mile, like he was conditioned to be bred by you. “Want your eggs.”
You let out a hungry, animalistic whine at his words, claws digging into his hips and thighs as you towered over him in a proper mounting position, pounding harder and making guttural sounds of pleasure and want as you blindly chased your release. His eyes squeezed shut as he moaned wantonly, exposing his throat in a clear sign of submission, showing you that he wanted this, wanted you to stuff him full until he was bulging with your offspring.
“S-Sukuna,” you managed, wanting to bite, wanting to mark him, cock slamming directly into his sweet spot with reckless abandon, as though wanting to mark his insides as yours too. You could feel a knot bloating at the base of your shaft, heavy and swollen with solid weight, an unbearable pressure pushing and growing insistently somewhere down there, slowly travelling towards the rim of your cockhead. It was too much, too good, and you wanted to push deeper, deeper, make him feel it all the way to his throat.
“Knock me up already!” he wailed, pushing his ass back against you desperately as if that would speed things up. “P-Please. You know I want it. Been waiting for so long. I want it, please, please—”
He was begging so much that it was driving your instincts into overdrive, sight blurring, breath coming out in rapid, hot pants—he had rarely, rarely ever acted like this even before the two of you were separated—tears rolling down his cheeks as he cried his heart out for you to permanently mark his body as your own, distraught and broken like the only thing that could fix him was you.
It tore your soul apart to see your mate like this.
You fought to concentrate, but an invisible force was prying your jaws open, trying to get you to bite, clamp down on his neck and shoulder, taste his blood and drink in it.
“Bite,” you wheezed out with difficulty as your hips continued to pound into him of their own accord, and you tried your hardest to tell him that you were going to lose it any time. “Please—can—I?”
“Yes, you fucking fool,” Sukuna choked on a sob as you brutally shoved your knot into him, stuffing him full until he felt like he was bursting. “Mark me up, show me that I belong to you—”
And you did, jaws latching onto flesh and skin as your teeth punctured the juncture between his neck and shoulder, fangs sinking in deep, snarling, shaking, a burning heat exploding at your core as your vision whited out, emptying everything into him—ecstasy consuming your very existence.
When you came to be, he was whimpering weakly.
You could feel the cum steadily trickling out of his hole and down the back of his thighs—you had come so much that even the thick knot couldn’t keep everything inside—but you didn’t think that was the reason.
You could feel a heavy pressure present from your crotch to the gaping rim of your cockhead, pain and pleasuring splitting you apart, and you let out a wounded noise as you pushed the first egg into the body of your mate.
“S-shit,” Sukuna croaked out, thighs trembling as the egg settled into him, straining at the sudden heavy weight in his stomach. “H-how many are there?”
“There are two,” you hissed out, and his eyes widened. “Two more.”
He let out a pained whine, eyes fluttering close as he waited for the next, and the next. “Brat,” he managed. “I might not be able to stay awake.”
You pulled back the best you could, manhandling him gently so that you could rest him on his side, knot still lodged inside him. “It is okay,” you told him, softly. “I will take care of you.”
Sukuna couldn’t remember, for the life of it, the last time that he had felt so heavy.
He blinked his eyes open, and was greeted by the sight of his swollen stomach, now stuffed with three whole eggs, and at least a gallon of your cum. He sighed with contentment, wriggling to settle comfortably into the warmth of the nest, hands settling on his stomach.
Yuuji was going to try and kill him, no doubt. Not that his vessel would ever come close to succeeding. He found himself grinning evilly at that.
Sukuna was about to fall asleep again, before he noticed a lack of body heat behind him.
He was breathing in your scent as the entire cave was drenched in it that he hadn't realised immediately, but you were nowhere in sight. A hollow feeling swept over him in waves at the thought of being used and abandoned, and he bit back a whimper. Stupid, useless instincts. He hated how weak you made him.
“Brat,” he called, softly, too tired to sit up. “You are here?”
You grunted.
You had been sitting at the far edge of the nest for the past hour, gaze locked onto the entrance of the cave, guarding your now pregnant mate from any foolish intruders. That was… one of the two reasons. The other reason was to guard him from yourself.
Sukuna called for you again, and you could not resist stealing a glance.
The sight before you was making you light-headed with desire that you could not afford to have, not right now. You stared down at him just as he looked up at you, swollen and bulging with your offspring, mindlessly stroking his huge stomach with cum still trickling down his ass and thighs.
Fuck. You were so hungry. You would always be hungry for him.
Sukuna’s face split into an arrogant smirk. “Why, after all that, and you still want more.”
“Do not,” you warned lowly, trying your best to look away, even as he shamelessly spread his legs, showing you the mess you had made between his thighs. “Sukuna. Not now.”
“Why not?” he leered, taking pleasure in your distress. “Scared you will break me?”
You growled. “Yes.”
“Weak,” he taunted. “I do not remember picking a weak fool as my mate.”
“I am not weak.” You bared your teeth at him, and he simply laughed at you.
“So easy to rile up,” he hummed. “Come here.”
“... No.”
He looked even more amused. “Come over, brat. I will not do anything vile.”
“So you know you are vile,” you said, and despite your words, begrudgingly strut over and buried your face into his neck, ignoring the dull heat persisting in your lower abdomen.
Sukuna sighed as you lapped affectionately at the fresh mating bite, closing his eyes and basking in the heat of your body. “I never- ah- denied it in the first place.”
You pulled back to glower at him, clawed hands settling back on his hips where they belonged—now carrying the weight of your offspring. He reached up to cradle your face now that you were steadying him, unfazed by your glare.
“And you still love this vile creature?” he murmured, gazing at you with an expression no less than tender.
“Love,” you repeated, like it would make sense if you said it a second time. You felt more for him than just love. If love only made your skin feel warm and your heart beat fast, like the mortals have told, then this feeling was something much, much more than love.
Sukuna merely grinned, and you knew he felt the same.
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⠀ REMIND ME! ☆ SYLUS QIN.
summary. six months after your breakup with sylus, news broke of you moving on, which is something he simply cannot allow—not if he can help it.
warnings. fem! reader, infidelity, pet names, established history, hair pulling, face sitting, oral ( fem. receiving ), doggy style, missionary, creampie, aftercare. wc. 6.1k.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
Once news broke the N109 Zone of a prospering romance in his district, Sylus couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. It was when he heard whispers of your name adjacent to another man’s that he began to listen.
He was out the front door of his home within a second, his leg swinging over his bike before Luke and Kieran could have a say in the matter.
The two men stood side by side, shouting a frantic ‘it’s normal to move on, man!’ and a ‘it’s been six months!’ from the doorstep as they watched their white haired boss speed away.
Sylus was sure that if he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle any tighter, they’d certainly break off.
If he was willing to harm his most prized possession over the pure frustration you’ve stirred within him, you should consider yourself the most lucky yet damned woman alive.
He liked to think he was headstrong, but when it came to you, he lost all of his sense. All rationale was long forgotten. You consumed him and he gladly let you, because all in all, it truly was a blessing and a curse.
For how much he loved to put the pedal to the metal, he’s never once arrived at your apartment as fast as he has just now. He didn’t even bother to properly leave his bike in between the lines of a parking spot before he was practically flying towards your front door, knocking rapidly until you answered.
Surprise is etched into your facial features as you crack the door open just enough to see who your uninvited guest was, but a strong hand pushed it open until it was agape. “What the fu—”
“Where is he?” he cuts you off with a question, his red eyes scanning your cozy living room like a predator on the prowl.
“Excuse you, I— what? Where is who?” Your questions stammer out as your brain tries to catch up to the scene in front of you.
Sylus forces himself to turn around and face you, realizing that his erratic behavior was likely confusing you. As expressed, his common sense was truly slipping from him. God, he’s missed you, and he absolutely hates the look you’re giving him. It was one that made him feel like a pure inconvenience to you (even though he certainly was behaving like it).
“Your… boyfriend,” he clarifies, almost choking on the word. The fact that the title was no longer his was already a problem in and of itself, but losing it to another man was something he simply could not allow. “Where is he?”
“Oh, I see,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as you give him a once over. “You think that you’re going to barge into my apartment and pummel the ever living shit out of my boyfriend?”
“More or less,” he answers, his long strides continuing a bit further down your hallway. “Preferably more.”
You scoff, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you watch your ex–boyfriend scope out your apartment that he’s all too familiar with.
“He isn’t here.”
“So I’ve gathered,” he replies, his head poking into your bedroom.
Sylus did his best to sound nonchalant, as aloof as can be, though his heart rate was through the roof. He saw no signs of any male presence—no messily discarded clothes, no misplaced shoes, no second toothbrush in the bathroom—which meant that your relationship wasn’t as serious as he’d imagined.
And boy, was he relieved to figure that much out.
You straighten off the wall as he enters your bedroom, hurriedly walking behind him as you speak, “Y’know, since your objective for coming here can’t be achieved, you are more than welcome to leave.”
“Did I say that was my only objective?” he simply asks, eyes scanning your bedroom.
A bit had changed since he’d last been in here. You changed your comforter to a floral pattern, and you even matched the drapes to the shade of your bedding. Your attention to detail was something he admired about you, and his attention to detail was something you used to love, though as his eyes fell to your open underwear drawer—you’re growing to hate it. A lot.
“Get out of there!” you exclaim, rushing to shove it closed, only to catch his slender finger in the crossfire.
He winces slightly, lifting his already bruising finger to your line of vision. “You’ve wounded me, sweetie. Kiss it better?”
You scoff, slightly pushing his hand away from your face. In any other context, you would have apologized, but given the fact that Sylus had entered your apartment without invitation and threatened to harm your boyfriend within five minutes of his arrival was enough to make you think that this made the two of you almost even.
A small smirk tugs at Sylus’s lips as he presses his finger to his tongue, soothing the stinging that you caused. Your eyes linger on his mouth for a bit longer than they should, and if he noticed (which he certainly did), he didn’t say anything.
“I see you went shopping,” he mumbles, his eyes falling to your now closed underwear drawer. “That’s a shame, baby. A damn shame.”
You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Why’s that?”
“I hate the idea of another man seeing what’s mine,” Sylus answers, tilting his head to the side as he gives your body an agonizingly slow once over, “in such pretty fabric, at that.”
Heat rushes to your face at his implication, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable or if you’re flustered by his forwardness. You figure it’s a mixture of both, but you mask it with an annoyed huff.
“I can do what I want,” you refute, crossing your arms over your chest. “And if what I want is to buy panties that you’ll never have the privilege of seeing me wear, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Sylus clicks his tongue, shaking his head with the slightest smirk curving upwards on his lips. He finds your attitude to be just as adorable as it is frustrating. With the way you look, arms tightly crossed over your chest with the tiniest wrinkle in between your eyebrows, he’d liken you to an angry kitten.
“If you’re trying to rile me up, you’re succeeding,” he states, drumming his fingers on your dresser.
Your eyes flit away. “I’m not trying to do anything. In fact, I want nothing to do with you.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely upset with you from the moment he arrived. “Your boyfriend may fall for this little act of yours, but I won’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sylus straightens up, his tall frame towering over you. You almost feel antsy under his gaze, but you do your best to hide it.
“I am what your heart truly desires,” he quietly murmurs, his finger tracing from the middle of your collarbones to the valley of your breasts. “And you can lie to him, you can even lie to yourself—but you cannot lie to me. I can see your deepest desires, remember?”
Betrayal is your body’s first instinct. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the pad of his index finger runs across your skin, and you physically have to fight off a whine from escaping your lips.
In an attempt to salvage the situation, you straighten up, glancing towards your bedroom door. “That’s… bullshit, Sylus. Get out of my head.”
“It’s nothing of the sort,” he replies with a much gentler tone than the one he possessed prior. “And I’ll do no such thing. Your mind is my favorite place to be.”
He studies his reddened finger for a moment, silently deciding to steer the conversation from its more serious direction. “It still won’t feel better until it gets a kiss from its favorite girl, you know.”
Against your better judgment, your eyes betray you by studying the reddened pad of his finger. It shouldn’t be as enticing of a view as it is. You find it to be almost criminal.
“You can lose that finger for all I care,” you scoff, trying not to remember how good it used to feel inside of you.
“So brash.” Sylus forces a pout on his lips, though it doesn’t last long. He presses a kiss to his own finger before he extends his arm to rest on the edge of your dresser, keeping you caged against your drawers.
“You’re awfully lucky that I’m a forgiving man,” he murmurs, his red eyes trained to yours. “You can do almost anything to me and I’d allow it.”
Judging by the way your expression lights up, that seems to give you an idea.
“Really?” you inquire, narrowing your eyes. “Say, if I punched you square in your face, would you allow it?”
“I’m not opposed to finding out,” he answers, his eyelids fluttering as he continues to drink in your beauty. “You know I love it when you’re rough with me.”
That comment forces a flush to your face, and you almost have to pinch yourself to keep your mind from bringing forward all of the memories that proved just how true that statement was.
It infuriates you how easily he could get a reaction out of you, no less than six months after you broke up with him. Perhaps that was why, in a split second decision (one that you’re hardly aware you’re making), your fist goes flying towards his face.
Sylus firmly stops your wielding hand before it can make contact with his cheek. His fingers unwind your fist and bring your hand close, allowing him to press a few chaste kisses to your knuckles.
“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled by the kisses he’s peppering along your palm and wrist. “So, so beautiful.”
Only he would say such a thing after you attempted to inflict bodily harm upon him. You wish you could rationalize his behavior, but you can’t—that’s just Sylus.
Your body betrays you in every way, shape, and form. Your face is flushed, your eyes are half lidded, and the mere contact of his lips on your knuckles is enough for butterflies to flutter in your stomach.
Grasping onto the last bit of common sense you have, you pull your hand from his grasp.
“It’s time for you to go,” you insist, beginning to slide against the dresser to escape his gaze.
Sylus allows you to create a bit of distance between the two of you, lifting his arm up from your dresser to let you walk away. The last thing he wants is to make you feel suffocated—the very reason you broke up with him in the first place.
He tried to do better, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t an animal, though. He loved you more than words could ever describe, and he’d allow you anything you wanted. And if physical space was what you wanted, he’d grant it to you.
“You know I’d do anything for you,” he quietly says, his voice carrying an unforeseen vulnerability to it, “but I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t let you give yourself to a man who doesn’t deserve you.”
Your eyebrows raise. “How can you be so sure he doesn’t deserve me?”
“I know you, baby. That’s how.”
A beat of silence passes, and he conjures up the courage to continue. “And I’m positive there isn’t a single soul who could possibly deserve your favor,” Sylus reasons, loosely crossing his arms, his toned biceps showing through the sleeves of his black button–up shirt. “Not even myself. I’m man enough to recognize that.”
His answer catches you off guard, but you do your best to maintain your front. You don’t want him to see how his words seem to squeeze at your heart.
“Then why are you here?” you genuinely ask.
Sylus knows he’s backed himself into a corner, and contrary to what you might think, he’d intended to do just that. He wants you to give him the green light to speak every word that he’s longed to say to you from the moment he’d seen you last, and now that you have, the floodgates are open.
“I’m selfish,” he admits, taking a tentative step towards you. “I’m drunk on you, and I can’t bear the thought of sobering up, even after all this time. It’s unfair, it’s horrible, it’s cruel—I know this, sweetie. But… I find my serenity in your eyes, and with you gone, my life is purgatory. The confines of hell must be more pleasant than what it is that I feel when I’m without you.”
Internally, you’re floored. Gobsmacked, even. Externally, you’re looking at him with the same soft expression you’ve worn this entire time.
Met with your silence, Sylus begins to internally panic. He slowly takes a few steps towards you, and when you don’t attempt to maintain the distance between you, his hands move to cup your face.
“Rid me of this life,” he whispers, his mouth so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips. “I cannot go on, not without you beside me.”
You truly hate how easy it is for him to reduce you to nothing but putty. You have a new boyfriend, you’ve moved on, you’ve allowed the love that you and Sylus shared to be nothing more than history.
You wanted to believe that moving forward was the best thing you could do, but if that was true, why is it that your heart hadn’t felt full until you laid eyes on Sylus? It seems to beat differently, like it’s finally come back to life in his presence.
Noticing the softening of your eyes, Sylus can’t help himself. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, holding both of you there for a few seconds. The sheer tenderness of his action was enough to make you melt, and you were sure you would’ve if his hands on your face weren’t grounding you.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, tilting your head up so that he can look into your eyes.
Sylus was never one for verbal affection (or being desperate for a woman’s favor) prior to you, but he’d make this exception a million times over if it meant he could have you however you’d let him.
You’ve nearly forgotten all of your allegiances, and you can’t even blame yourself for it. You know that indulging in him is like eating a forbidden fruit, and even then, you can’t forbid yourself from its taste—not when you know how sweet it is. What you feel goes beyond want; it’s pure, unadulterated need.
“No response for me?” he asks.
You shake your head, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. You carefully slide out of his grasp and sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes trailing you as you do so.
You’re a firm believer that nothing is real until you’ve said it out loud, Sylus is more than aware of that. He doesn’t want to push you too hard, too fast, too much, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.
As you sit, your thighs naturally part and your skirt rides up just a bit, enough for the pink fabric clothing your pussy to be shown. That sight alone was able to elicit behavior that you’ve never once seen from Sylus.
“God, you are a privilege,” he murmurs, taking a few steps towards you. Without hesitation, he slowly descends to his knees before you, his hands trailing up your thighs. “Such a sight,” he adds his eyes flitting to the dampening fabric of your underwear, “such a beautiful sight.”
If his words weren’t enough, the sight of him kneeling in front of you was enough to make you faint. (Or scream. Or cum. Maybe all three at the same time, you’re not sure.)
“Allow me the night,” Sylus pleads, his desperate red eyes finally locking onto yours. His hand moves to brush your hair from your face, tucking it loosely behind your ear. “Just the night. One night to indulge you.”
Lying would be no use, all things considered. He’d already shamelessly eyed the needy area between your thighs, knowing that the arousal collecting there is for him. Your stomach swirls with a mixture of guilt and need, and you honestly feel like you’re in an impossible position.
“Sylus,” you breathe, your heartbeat thumping so hard that you’re surprised your chest hasn’t burst. “This is so wrong.”
He shakes his head as his large, gentle hands move to rest on your knees. “Your pleasure means more to me than a simple case of right and wrong.”
“I wish it was as simple as you make it seem,” you say, a long sigh leaving you.
“Can’t it be?” Sylus questions, his thumbs idly stroking your knees. “Allow me this one night to remind you of how I feel about you, how you feel about me. If you want me to leave you alone by the time morning comes, I will accept that with a smile.”
You’d like to imagine that you’re stronger than this, that the idea of a final night of lovemaking with your ex-boyfriend to get him out of your head for good isn’t appealing—but it is.
It’s something you’ve thought about before (in the dead of night with your hand stuffed down your shorts), but never did you think it could become a reality.
Only now, with him kneeling in front of you, it was.
“Okay,” you sheepishly murmur. “Remind me.”
You know this is absolutely horrible of you to do, but you can’t find the will to deny yourself this. As much as you tried to get Sylus out of your head, you never could. Not long enough for it to make a difference, anyway.
(Perhaps this, a final intimate night between the two of you, will be just what you need to move on for good.)
Sylus knows that his time with you is limited, but he plans to make it the best night of your existence.
(Perhaps if he can remind you of how much he’s willing to give, how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you—you’ll change your mind.)
His large, strong hands trail up as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, pressing a few kisses to your calves and inner thighs. He presses a kiss to the fabric of your underwear, his tongue drawing out to taste the wet spot.
Sylus isn’t sure what’s come over him, but he honestly feels like he’ll either implode or cry at the sight of you right now. To have you again is something he’s dreamt about more than he’d like to admit, and he plans to show you just how much your absence has affected him as his fingers slide beneath your skirt to hook under the thin fabric of your underwear.
“Thank you,” he mutters against your skin, tugging the clothing piece down your legs. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters aloud the moment his eyes land on your heat.
He could seriously cum in his pants right now, and if he’s not careful, he will. His hands lock onto your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed to give him better access to your glistening cunt.
“Pussy’s all mine,” he breathes, licking a long stripe up your slit.
You would have replied if he hadn’t buried his face in between your thighs. His tongue laps at your wetness before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly at it with hollowed cheeks.
A cry leaves your lips at the sensation, your hand gripping onto his white hair as you revel in the feeling his tongue is giving you.
He’s eating you out like a man starved, his own moans rumbling into your cunt, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. Sylus could do this for days if you let him, but after not having you like this for so long, he can’t help himself from needing more.
Within moments, he’s slowly pushing you higher on your bed, still licking at your pussy until he’s physically unable to. He looks up at you with crazed eyes, licking his spit-slick lips as he kicks his shoes off.
“Sit on my face,” he murmurs, moving to lay on your bed. When he’s met with your hesitance, he’s grasping onto your arm to carefully pull you towards him. “I might die without it.”
You’ve never once seen a man so pussy drunk in your entire life, but you’re in absolutely no position to deny him. So, you move to hover above him, your hands resting on your headboard. You hear a satisfied moan beneath you, and he’s soon hooking his arms around your thighs.
“You won’t die without it,” you grumble. “In fact, you might die because of it. Suffocation—”
“Suffocation of this kind might be the best way to go,” he cuts you off, licking a faint swipe against your folds. “In fact, when we’re old and withered, it might be my last ask of you.”
Your face flushes, and you can feel heat rushing to both your cunt and your cheeks. Noticing the coy face you’re making, Sylus can’t help himself from laying a faint smack on your ass, squeezing its plushness as he stares up at you.
“For now, though,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want you to let go for me. Can’t have you dangling this pretty cunt in my face without letting me taste it.”
As you hesitantly begin to relax your thighs and lower on top of him, he lifts his head up to meet you halfway and gather your slick on his tongue.
“Very good, baby,” Sylus purrs, dropping his head back onto your sheets as he pulls your hips down the rest of the way, “now sit.”
When all of your weight crashes down on him, a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sheer passion behind the movements of his tongue. He almost seems to be more incentivized. His eyes flutter shut as he mouths at your pussy, the moans leaving his mouth in combination with the absolute filthy sounds of his tongue are enough to drive you insane.
Sylus feels like he’s finally left purgatory and has transcended into heaven. With his pretty girl on his face, taking her on his tongue, making the most beautiful little noises—he’s honestly never felt better.
(Well, there is that whole new boyfriend thing looming in the back of his mind, but he’s sure that you’ll take care of that once he’s done taking care of you.)
One of your hands leaves the headboard to grasp onto his hair, your eyes screwing shut as you rock your hips over his tongue. “Sylus,” you breathe out through a moan. “I’m— oh, shit—”
Sylus’s cock twitches as you moan his name, his eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands help to guide the rocking of your hips. With his other, he palms himself through his trousers, his mouth working tirelessly to make you feel good.
Even as self-admittedly selfish as he is, he can’t bear the idea of putting his pleasure above your own—even if the ache is physically eating away at him. With you writhing above him, the sounds you’re making, the look on your face, it’s all too much—even for him.
Your mouth lulls open as you let out the most beautiful whine he’s ever heard, and his tongue slows down, working you through your first orgasm of the night. He eagerly collects your juices with his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he finally presses a final kiss to your swollen clit.
“I can stay this way forever,” he says against your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your warm skin, “you and me,” he places another kiss, “together.”
You shift to lay beside him, out of breath and looking beautifully disheveled. Sylus licks his lips and lies starry–eyed beside you. Soon enough, a huff of laughter escaped his throat, realizing he might’ve said too much there.
Sylus turns his head to look at you. “Was that enough to get an ‘I miss you too’ out of that mouth of yours?”
You let out a breathless laugh, your hand running over your face. “No,” you lie.
That was the best orgasm you’ve had since your breakup, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You’ve developed quite the attitude,” he muses, rolling on top of you. He slots his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “That boyfriend of yours must not fuck it out of you like he should,” he adds, the low volume of his voice rumbling against your skin as he kisses along your jaw, “like I can.”
Before you can think twice, you’re lifting your hips against the bulge in his pants, a soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the very prominent shape of his hardened cock. With a grunt, Sylus pushes your hips down, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs.
“Such a needy little thing,” he chastises, his hand moving to cup your mound. “First you’re insisting I leave, and now you’re hoping I’ll give you my cock. You’re sending me mixed signals here, sweetie.”
You’re seeing stars, and your hand grasps onto his wrist, feeling the way his muscles tense as he begins to toy with your clit.
“I want it,” you whine, your toes curling as the pad of his middle finger circles your entrance, “you’re… you’re being a tease.”
“That’s right,” he whispers, licking a long stripe up your neck. “If you want it bad enough, you’re going to have to prove it, baby.”
Your head tilts to the side as Sylus pulls away from your neck to look down at you. His fingers move to work at the button of your skirt, tugging it down your legs and tossing it onto the floor of your room.
“How?” you ask.
He presses his lips to yours as his hands tug up your shirt, breaking the kiss to carefully pull it over your head. His large hands palm at your breasts, bringing your perked nipples in between his fingers.
“Pick up the phone,” Sylus answers, releasing your breasts to sit up in front of you, his hands moving to undo his belt.
Your curiosity soon turns into something much more lustful as he pulls his trousers and boxers down his thighs. His shirt goes next, the articles of clothing decorating your floor. His cock looks even better than you remember, but he snaps his fingers in front of your face to gather your attention.
“Sorry, what?” you ask, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your trance.
“Pick up the phone,” he repeats, reaching to your bedside table to hand you your cell.
You take the device from him, looking at it with confusion. You were embarrassed that you hadn’t even noticed it ringing, far too distracted by the sight of him stroking his hand along his length, but your embarrassment soon turns into dread as you read the caller ID.
It is, of course, none other than your boyfriend.
“Sylus, that’s— that’s crazy,” you stammer out, looking between his eyes, his dick, and your phone.
He snickers, flipping you onto your stomach. His hands grasp onto the plush of your hips to pull your ass up. “What’s crazy is the fact that you expect me to fuck you without your boyfriend’s knowledge.”
“You’re above adultery?” you gasp out.
Sylus shakes his head, his hand moving to prod your entrance with the tip of his cock, his other hand grasping onto your hair to pull you back against his chest.
“Obviously not,” he replies, licking along the shell of your ear. “Just want to show him how beneath it you are.”
Your heart slams against your chest as he takes the device from you and answers the call, holding the phone to your ear.
“Let him hear,” he purrs, slowly pushing his cock inside of you. “The noises you make with my cock buried inside you are such a prize. It’d be a disservice to not share.”
A sharp whine leaves your lips as he tugs on your hair, tilting your head to give himself better access to your neck as he bottoms out inside of you. “Tell him what you’re up to, sweetie,” he simply says, sucking a faint mark onto your neck.
On the other end of the line, your partner begins to blab on about his day, though you’re hardly able to listen, not when Sylus is pushing his cock inside of you like a madman. Your body tenses as he stretches you out, the sensation forcing a moan out of your mouth, though the man on the other end of the line didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, resting his chin on the crook of your shoulder to press an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “taking my cock so nicely. Missed this pussy so much.”
“—so then, I told him… wait. Are you with someone?”
Your heart rate skyrockets as Sylus draws his hips back only to pound the length of his cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck… y-yes,” you choke into the phone, almost breathless.
“Thank you for your confession, my dear,” Sylus teasingly remarks, knowing that your response was a reaction to how good he feels inside of you rather than an answer to your boyfriend’s question.
He presses a faint kiss to your shoulder as he thrusts into you again, using his grip on your hair to push you back onto your stomach. A hand smoothes over the curve of your back, his long fingers hooking around the plush of your hip to remind you that he’s still present despite the situation. He then brings the phone to his own ear, watching with a wide grin as you arch your back to take as much of his cock as you can.
“Our friend can’t talk right now,” he says into the receiver, grunting as your walls clench around him. “She’s gotten lost and found herself on my cock, which is such a positive turn of events, let me tell you,” the pace of his hips thrusting into you only seems to get more intense with each word he says, “considering it’s right where she belongs.”
“W-what? Who the fuck are you? I—”
“I can’t stay on the line to talk much either,” Sylus continues, his free hand grasping a bit tighter onto your hair as he tugs on it to fuck deeper and harder inside of you, his skin slapping against yours with each heavy thrust. “Have to make her cum for all the times you couldn’t.”
You’re lost in a whirlwind of sensations, your mouth gaped open as you moan out with each thrust he makes, your back arched as much as you could make it. You can feel a pool of warmth building inside of your lower stomach, and you let out a cry of pleasure.
You haven’t been fucked this good in, well… six months. That much is obvious to the both of you, given the way you’ve been losing your mind with each forceful push of his hips. He knows your body in ways you’ll never understand, and luckily for you, you don’t need to understand in order to receive the pleasure that he’s desperately trying to give you.
“Sylus!” you gasp out, serving as a warning for how close you already are.
“Mm, I have to go, duty calls,” Sylus says into the phone, releasing his grip on your hair to move his hand between your legs, two of his fingers circling your clit. “Call my woman again and I’ll kill you.”
Tapping the screen to end the call, he tosses your phone mindlessly, and it’s only when you hear it drop against the floor do you turn around to look at him.
“Sylus!” you scold.
He gives you a wry smile as he slowly pulls out of you, rolling you onto your back. “I’ll buy you a new one, pretty. Don’t worry.”
You open your mouth to protest, but when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you again, you’re hardly in the protesting mood at all.
Sylus towers over you, his forearm propping him up as he slowly fucks into you, his red eyes trained to yours. “God, baby, I’ve missed you.”
Almost instinctively, your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. There was a hidden intimacy of this position that you’ve always loved. He obliges to your request, resting his forehead on yours as he thrusts harder inside of you.
“You take me so well,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “So, so beautifully.”
You mewl at the softness of his praise, your eyes glossing over as he continues to fuck you into oblivion, your walls tensing around him. He hisses at the feeling, dipping his head to press a kiss on your cheek.
He can tell that you’re close, and he knows just what you need. He won’t give it to you so easily, though.
“Sweetie?” he breathes out.
You nod your head before breathlessly replying, “yeah?”
Sylus gives you a smirk as he raises his bruised finger to your lips. “Kiss it better. Let me use it on you.”
Protest is not on your agenda anymore, not by a long shot. You kiss the pad of his finger without hesitation, and you proceed to capture it with your mouth, your tongue soothing the bruising.
He smiles at the sight, a groan leaving his lips as he continues to thrust his cock inside of you. “So pretty, baby. God, you’re beautiful.”
Sylus retracts his finger from your mouth to bring it to your clit, his spit-slick finger rubbing it in beautiful, moan-earning circles. He watches as your eyes almost immediately haze over at the stimulation.
He lowers his head to suck on your nipple, his free hand palming at your other breast as means of stimulating you in any way he can. After a moment, he latches onto your other breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak.
“God, ah— Sylus!” you moan, your hands wrapping around his neck.
He nips at your breast before he pulls away, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as he feels you clench around his cock. “Going to come for me again, beautiful?”
You nod your head, rising up from the pillow to press a kiss on his lips, and his large hand moves to cup the back of your head as he kisses you through your orgasm. His fingers gently thread through your hair, giving you the best of both worlds.
“Cream my cock, baby. It’s all yours, always will be,” he mutters against your lips, his thrusts growing slower as he twitches inside of you.
Sylus breaks the kiss to look down at you, a heavy pant leaving him. “Where do you want me?” he breathlessly asks.
As if that were a question you ever responded differently to, he still needed to ask, even though you answered just the same. “In… in me.”
He nods his head as he thrusts inside of you a few more times, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek as he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full of his thick, white cum.
A moment passes in which the two of you simply pant breathlessly to each other, your sweaty foreheads pressed together. It was a beautiful scene by all measures.
“I missed you too,” you finally pant out, a smile breaking your lips. “I missed you a lot.”
He chuckles breathlessly at that. “I missed you even more, sweetie.”
Sylus presses a soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly pulls out of you, traveling slowly to your bathroom before returning with a damp towel. He settles in front of you again, using the warm towel to gently clean up the mess he’s made of you between your legs.
You stare at him with the most lovestruck eyes he’s ever seen, and it only makes him smile. “You tired, baby?” he lowly asks.
Nodding your head, you extend your arms to him, and he pulls you in without question. He lies down on his back, holding you against his chest. His large hand runs over your back while the other one tugs your blankets over the both of you, giving you a bit of warmth.
Not that he needed anything more than your presence. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, holding the woman that he loves, running his fingers through her hair just as he used to.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. It’s almost concerning how much he loves you, but he can’t help it.
“I love you,” you lazily return the sentiment.
As you cuddle into his chest, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up today, if he’d left you alone, if he let you move on.
You know it’s crazy to think about.
After all, it’s Sylus. Your Sylus. He’s the only person you’ve ever needed, and now that he’s reminded you of that, you won’t forget it.
note. thank you for reading! please interact if you enjoyed!! <3 i don’t even know what the hell this is—we have possessive, dominant, and soft sylus in one go. but hey, it works for me, so i hope it works for you. pls pls pls give me ideas to write more for this sexy man—i never get tired of him!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
#♥︎ tojicide#love and deepspace sylus#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#sylus qin#sylus#lads sylus#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#sylus smut#l&ds sylus#love and deepspace#lads#love & deepspace
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Gentle yandere boyfriend that loses his shit when you bring up the topic of BDSM in the bedroom
afab reader ; nsfw
He’s always been methodically perfect, gentle, the best boyfriend he could be. All roses, chocolates, blankets when you’re sick, romantic dates at the beach, that kinda thing. A stand up guy, really. So has he ever thought of tying you up before, leaving you sprawled under him at his mercy, bare naked and all? Of course not!
Well. Once, maybe. Or twice. Or all the time.
When you bring up the topic of BDSM in the bedroom, he chokes on his drink and nearly dies. He would have never expected such a request from you, you’re such an innocent and vanilla-esque person after all. But he’d be lying if the thought of you under him, with nowhere to run, wasn’t exhilarating. It tickled his predator/prey drive, his need to dominate you in most aspects of your life.
The two of you do as you suggest that night. You’re bound, bare naked in only black thigh highs and a collar around your neck. He didn’t want you wearing a blindfold because he wants to see your eyes as he takes you. There’s no gag either as he wants to be able to hear you moan.
You look ravishing, plush ass out with your legs tied just for him. It takes everything in him not to ravage you whole right then and there. You can’t run from him now. Oh, how he imagined you like this so many times if things didn’t go his way. If you had rejected him, run away from him, broken up with him, anything like that. He’d probably keep you locked up in his room, ready for the taking just like this.
The perfect, gentle boyfriend facade cracks in no time, and before you know it, he’s all over you, drilling into your cunt, biting your neck, touching you all over wherever he can.
You always knew he could be a bit possessive, but this new change scared and excited you at the same time. You moan each time he thrusts into you, listening as he mutters, “Mine, mine, mine,” after every minute. You never felt so wanted before.
#yandere#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere male#yandere writing#yandere smut#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#soft yandere
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The Salesman's Obsession
title: the salesman's obsession
pairing: squid game's salesman/ recruiter x f!reader (y/n)
synopsis: when someone dares to interrupt his game, the infamous salesman ought to punish them... but she doesn't intend to play by his rules.
warnings: violence, physical assaut, social stigma, psychotic mc, squid game au
a/n: we shall give the people what they asked for (salesman x readers) (i'm people)
The slap rang out like a gunshot, ricocheting off the cold subway walls. The man on the ground – disheveled, panting – flinched. His cheek blossomed red, but he didn’t dare look up. Above him, the Salesman stood poised, palm still tingling. His eyes were bright but empty, the light behind them clinical, dissecting.
"Come on now, one more try,” he taunted. His voice was smooth, almost musical and weightless, as if he were suggesting a game of chess. "Don’t stop at three. You’ll regret that more.”
It wasn’t joy he was feeling. Amusement, merely. Detached, surgical. Like stepping on something fragile just to hear the crack. The pathetic, the desperate – they all crumbled the same way. He just had to give them a little push, and their precious facade fell apart, leaving behind the twitching core of greed, ready to humiliate itself for scraps.
The sweating businessman bent to pick up his red tile, trembling. His shoulders sagged under the weight of silent despair. Miserable. The Salesman’s lips curled, though not exactly enough to be called a smile. He enjoyed the process. The inevitability of it.
Another failure.
He raised his hand, licking his lips in anticipation, but before he could swing, something unexpected happened. A hand grabbed his wrist.
Firm. Unshaking.
Cold.
His head snapped to the side; the sharp turn of a predator interrupted mid-hunt.
You.
His gaze narrowed. He’d noticed you earlier, lingering on the platform’s edge. Background noise. He rarely missed details, but somehow you had slipped through the cracks. Perhaps that was the first red flag.
His gaze drifted over your hand, slender fingers circling his wrist like a cuff. He could break free easily. Yet he didn’t. Your grip felt… deliberate. Measured.
“Enough,” you said, cocking your head to the side, sly eyes scrutinizing him.
His expression shifted, just slightly. Interest flickered, not outwardly hostile, but curious. He searched your face for clues – that familiar, nauseating blend of pity and self-importance most saviours carried. Yet, your eyes betrayed neither. But he didn’t need any tells – he knew people like you. Hypocrites yearning for crumbs of recognition.
“And who might you be?” His voice retained its warmth, but irritation simmered beneath it.
You stepped between him and his trembling opponent, your hand falling away. “Doesn’t matter.”
His gaze darkened as annoyance started to seep in his body. He didn’t even watch as the man behind you scrambled to his feet, disappearing into the crowd like prey escaping a hunter. His focus was entirely on you now – the intruder. He examined you for long time – longer than what he was used to. The Salesman never cared much for remembering anyone other than his recruits – but there was something about the lines of your face, the crooked slope of your mouth, the mischief in you pupils. Something challenging. Something he wanted to crush.
"You just cost me 100,000 won," he said lightly, adjusting his cufflinks with meticulous care – but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the casual tone. "So. How do you plan to pay me back?"
You shrugged, defying. “I don’t plan to.”
His grin widened, but the glint in his eyes sharpened. “I see. Then I’ll have to take it from you. A slap or cash. Choose.”
“I have a better idea,” you smirked, lazily flicking the red tile between your fingers. “I’ll take his place. I want to play too.”
His smile faltered. The thrill flickered out, but simply for a second – you weren’t desperate, not twitchy or ashamed. Not his typical prey. Yet. Because after all, if you wanted to play, it was because you wanted money – like everyone else.
He just needed to crack your confident mask to see you scrambling for it.
A chuckle escaped his mouth, hunger for your humiliation gnawing at his stomach. He wanted to see your heroic aspirations slapped out of your mind until you were nothing more than the lowlives he usually dealt with.
Yes. This would be even more fun to watch.
His smirk returned, though colder. “Fine. Each loss costs 100,000 won. Can you pay?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t lose.”
Your smugness stirred something primal in him—something ugly, something he hadn’t felt in years. You flipped the red card over your fingers, defiance oozing off you. Then in a split second you hurled the tile to the ground with surprising force. There was no hesitation, no tension. He didn’t need to look down to know you had flipped the blue card over. He watched you carefully, waiting for the inevitable flicker of relief that most winners betrayed.
None came.
Your eyes had barely left him either, like you were also gauging his reaction. Your lips stretched in a predatory smile – a thrill of excitement ran down his veins.
“I paid the debt. Now let’s play for real,” you cheered, displaying a naïve smile, one that could have fooled him as genuine if there wasn’t a flick of calculation - measurement - behind the easy curve of your lips.
The Salesman was a man of control – he could recognize when someone was leading a game, and right now this someone wasn’t him. He wasn’t surprised when you succeeded again.
“You won,” he stated, but there was no satisfaction, no amusement – he was still hungry for your humiliation. He reached for his luggage. But your foot stopped him, stepping on it as you suddenly reduced the distance between them.
“Oh no, Mister. You must have misunderstood me,” you slowly leaned towards him and whispered against his face.
He should have seen it before – but it was only now, when you were inches away from him, that he finally noticed the spark of amusement hidden in your eyes. It wasn’t heroism, nor greed that animated you.
Danger. His heart raced with the adrenaline that was reserved for his favourite kills, an all-too-powerful feeling that welcome your next words.
“I wasn’t playing for money.”
And then with sudden, brutal efficiency, you slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling on his feet and wipe any thought from his mind.
The crack resounded louder than his own had.
His head jerked to the side, pain stinging his cheek. Silence stretched between you. The slap burned, but not as much as the unfamiliar sensation curling in his gut.
Your laugh cut through the quiet, light and playful, but dripping with something – something mad.
He scoffed, bringing a hand to massage his cheek. It was stinging, the only proof that the last seconds had happened. When he looked back at you, you had tilted your head in an innocent expression.
But your conniving smirk was taunting him. “I get you now; it is quite fun. Have a nice day, Mister.”
You turned and walked away, your figure shrinking under the flickering subway lights.
The Salesman didn’t follow. Not immediately.
He watched you disappear into the station, the flickering fluorescent lights overhead casting fractured shadows on the tiles.
He stayed rooted, fingers twitching at his side, replaying the moment. Over and over.
Then, without warning, he laughed. Deep, unhinged, shaking laughter that echoed through the empty station. His stomach twisted with hunger, sharper and more vicious than he had felt in years.
You.
You weren’t a prey.
No, you were something far more valuable.
You were a challenge.
And he would break you. Piece by piece.
#squid game#the salesman#x reader#the salesman x reader#squid game season 2#angst#ennemies to lovers#gong yoo#squid game imagine
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This is very situational, and sadly may not be realistic for everyone, but I need y’all to understand that a very important part of political activism is fucking talking to your conservative or moderate friends and family.
My dad voted for Trump in 2016. He’s a middle class white evangelical from Arkansas. He raised me with conservative Christian values, just like his parents raised him. When he voted Trump, he was holding his nose, but he didn’t feel too bad about it, and went on to vote red down the ticket in the 2018 midterms, as well.
But I started college in 2017. Higher education and independence changed everything for me, and I went home over holidays and summers with fire in my belly and a thousand arguments ready at the drop of a hat, to my father’s dismay.
I remember crying in my room after emotional, intense arguments with him. I told him over and over that I felt betrayed by his choice to vote for a man who admitted to sexually assaulting women, who built his platform on dehumanizing immigrants and the disabled, who spread overtly-racist rhetoric, who flouted the values of kindness and self-discipline that I’d been raised on. And my dad always had some justification about the “greater good”: fighting against abortion, bolstering the economy, getting other Christian politicians into office.
But over time, as we grew further apart and I lost my will to discuss anything with him at all, he softened. He started asking me why I thought the way I did about the things we disagreed about. He would listen to my answers without interruption, and mull them over afterward instead of expressing his own opinion. And all the while, he watched the Trump presidency become cruel and absurd and devastating.
The first time he openly expressed regret to me, I had come home for a weekend after Kavanaugh was confirmed to SCOTUS. My dad realized he had helped elect a man who preyed on women… and that man had opened the door to more predators. I can’t tell you what it felt like for him to admit that he’d made a mistake, not just in voting for Trump but in defending him for so long. We kept arguing, but it was more debating than fighting. I knew he was capable of seeing my side of things, even if it took a while, and he knew I wasn’t just a sensitive college student with shallow new ideas about the world.
And then 2020 hit. Specifically, George Floyd was murdered, and the events that followed played out on the national stage. My dad was incredibly shaken by it. He asked me if I had any books from college about racial issues. I loaned him The New Jim Crow, one of the required readings for my Race and the Law class. Then I gave him Just Mercy. Then he watched the documentary 13th. Then he joined a racial harmony group he learned about through one of the few Black families at our church and insisted our whole family come. He held up signs at a protest against Confederate monuments in our conservative southern town. In three years, he went from defending Trump’s comments about “Black-on-Black crime” to publicly advocating for racial justice and opposing the death penalty.
We went together to vote in the 2020 primaries. I couldn’t help asking who he’d voted for; I didn’t even know if he’d asked for the Republican or Democratic ticket. He admitted he’d voted for Bernie. fucking. Sanders, then made me promise not to tell my grandma he’d voted liberal. When the election rolled around in November, he voted Biden. I’m sure he held his nose to do it, just like he held his nose voting in 2016. But I know he doesn’t regret it.
I am, of course, unbelievably lucky to have a parent who loved me enough, and was empathetic enough, to choose his relationship with me over his strongly-held opinions. He kept searching for truth because, as much as he’ll deny it, he’s a very smart and curious person. No degree of intelligence or curiosity makes you immune to propaganda, especially if you were raised not to question the party line. It’s easy to dismiss our conservative, conspiracy-pilled loved ones as stupid, hypocritical, and cruel. Sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes they will bend to keep their relationships from breaking. Sometimes, if they can be made to understand that their beliefs and actions are harming someone they love, they will make concessions. And sometimes they just need one person in their life to put a foot down, to be vulnerable and assertive and argumentative, to bring the impact of their politics close to home.
As the most important election of our lifetimes approaches, do not put peace over progress. If you have someone like my dad, someone who is good-willed and smart and loves you more than their own opinions, tell them how you feel. Tell them what their choices will mean for you, for your friends, for your community. Tell them what they could lose: your trust, your affection, your respect. Don’t avoid conflict if it could be productive. Because my conflict with my dad didn’t just win him over–it won over my moderate mom and one of my conservative brothers. And it put us in community with other like-minded people and led my parents to a healthier and kinder faith.
All of this to say, there is hope in conflict. There is hope in our relationships with people who think differently from us. There is hope in exposing your fear and anger and pain to people you love. And hope is a form of activism.
#us politics#kamala harris#tim walz#harris walz 2024#politics#just to reiterate#this is not everyone’s situation#but if it’s yours please have the hard conversations
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