#but nothing you need to hold yourself to of course

[reignpage]

❀ In which your milk ducts are clogged and husband!Nanami is more than willing to help 

It’s just to help feed the baby, he says. It’s his duty, he says. He can't stand seeing you wince, struggling to feed, grappling with this side of parenthood all by yourself.  

And that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t really explain why his glossy eyes are rolling back as he suckles on one of your leaking breasts. Glasses carelessly thrown on the bedside table, hair all mussed up, and shirt wrinkled, the Kento cradled on your chest is one you rarely see. He seems driven by some kind of madness and simultaneously, the most in-control he's ever been.

Firm hands grope and squeeze mercilessly, applying circular motions that steal your breath. His calloused fingers tickle the sensitive skin, eliciting shivers shudders and whimpers out of you.

“Ken,” you whine, “you’re suckling too -hah- hard.”

A growl rips through the air when you attempt to squirm out of his hold. “The baby, h-honey. Think about the baby. She needs her mommy ready to go, doesn’t she?”

“But she’s already sleeping.”

He lets out a proud sigh. “She’s such a well-behaved little thing, isn’t she? She got it from you. My girls, so good to me, always so good.”

Pinned to the bed by his firm, muscular body, you can do nothing against the onslaught of sloppy smooches slobbering all over your tits. Sticky milk dribbles out but doesn’t drip too far before his greedy lips slurrrrps! up your sweet essence. 

“You taste so d-delicious, sweetheart, God, I can’t get enough of you.”

Rutting in between your quivering legs, his clothed cock, hard and throbbing, rubs just right against your pussy. Kento doesn’t even realise he’s grinding into you, that your pussy has long grown sloppy and messy under your panties, and that you’ve already orgasmed three times since he’s made it his personal mission to ease your aches.

“Ken! It’s too much, my nipples are too -ngh!- sensitive.”

Shushing you, he presses your breasts together so he can wrap his glossy lips around both nipples at the same time. “It’s alright, my love. You can take it. Just a little more, okay? Just a little more for Kento.”

“You have to s-stop soon.” It's been hours, the clog's long gone, but your husband shows no sign of stopping. You're not even sure he remembers why you're in this position to begin with. 

Obscene sounds reverberate around the room, dizzying you beyond sanity. Wet, sticky, and delirious, you’re helpless against the lapping of his gluttonous tongue on both of your breasts, flicking the oversensitive nipples, baring them to the steam of the air between you. “Five more minutes. P-please. I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

You nod, feverish and crazed by his ravenous appetite. 

“Oh, thank you, honey. Thank you. You’re too good to me.” 

He has earned it — your husband is so patient, so caring, and diligent. You can put up with five more minutes. That’s what you thought, at least. But when time's up, he shakes off your weak pushes and latches himself onto a poor, abused breast and begs with a mouthful.

“Five m-more minutes, sweetheart, please? Just five more. I’ll fill you up and you -hah- can milk my cock too. Kento’s being fair, isn’t he? Kento’s never let you down, right? Of course not. So, be a good girl and tend to your husband, alright? He's positively starved.”

[slxttybrbie]

BED TIME Cw: smut mdni, college student!reader, dilf!nanami, reader's a babysitter

The apartment is spotless, warm-toned and quiet, except for the low hum of a lullaby playing from the nightlight in the bedroom. You ease the door closed after tucking in Nanami's daughter, who—despite some initial shyness—took to you quickly. A few bedtime stories, a glass of warm milk, and a silly little song you made up on the spot, and she was out.

You sink into the couch and exhale. Babysitting wasn’t your first choice, but between school, rent, and the laughable pay at your campus job, you were desperate. When you saw the ad—“Evening babysitter needed. One child. Quiet home. Good pay”—you jumped.

And the man who interviewed you? Intimidating. Broad-shouldered. Polished in a suit and tie with that deep, thoughtful voice. He barely looked at you during the interview, only nodded at your qualifications and said, "You're hired."

Professional. Cold.

Which is why it throws you completely off when the front door opens, and Nanami steps in looking... not that.

He’s in his usual suit, yes, but the tie is loose. The first two buttons undone. His blond hair slightly mussed. And when he takes off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt—revealing sharp eyes and tired shadows beneath—you feel something unfamiliar ripple through you.

Want.

"You're still here," he says, his voice deep and low, a little softer than usual. "Thank you."

You blink and stand quickly, grabbing your bag. "Of course. She was great. Went right to sleep. I was just about to head out."

"You hungry?"

You stop. "What?"

He walks toward the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up. His forearms—strong, veiny, dusted with light hair—catch your attention more than they should.

"I figured I’d make something quick. Nothing fancy, just pasta. You’re welcome to stay."

You hesitate.

But your stomach growls, and his gaze flicks down to your abdomen for a fraction of a second before he turns and opens a cabinet.

"...Sure. I guess I could eat."

Dinner smells like garlic and fresh basil. The kitchen is dimly lit, cozy. You sit on a stool at the counter while he moves with practiced ease. He's quiet, but not cold. More... observant. The kind of silence that watches.

“You’re in college?” he asks as he sets a plate in front of you.

You nod. "Second year. Double major."

He hums. "Ambitious."

You smile a little, feeling warm. "Trying to be."

Halfway through the meal, the conversation softens. You talk about your classes, about his work (he’s vague), about the city. But every time your eyes meet, the air feels heavier.

You excuse yourself to the sink, rinsing your plate. His comes next to yours a second later. He’s behind you—close. You can feel the heat radiating from his chest.

Then, quietly: "You shouldn’t wear shorts that small around me."

Your breath catches.

You look down at your legs. They’re modest enough. Mostly. But now you feel the burn of his gaze against the backs of your thighs.

"I—"

"Don’t worry," he cuts in. "I’ll pretend I haven’t been looking."

He steps closer, his hand bracing against the counter beside your waist. You turn your head and he's right there, his mouth inches from your ear.

"Unless... you don’t want me to pretend."

You swallow hard. "I don’t."

He exhales like he’s been holding back for hours. The next second, your back hits the counter, and his lips are on yours—hungry, restrained but crumbling. His tongue slides against yours, and the low groan he lets out makes your knees weak.

He lifts you onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your ass, one slipping under your shirt and tracing up your spine.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he mutters, kissing down your neck. "Coming here smelling all sweet, looking like temptation in a tank top and too-short shorts."

Your fingers clutch his dress shirt. You’re dizzy from the kiss, from the tension finally snapping.

"I didn’t mean to," you whisper.

He chuckles darkly. "Doesn’t matter. I’m done pretending."

His hand slips beneath your waistband, fingers brushing over your panties. You’re soaked—shamefully so.

"So wet already," he murmurs, pushing the fabric aside. "You were waiting for this."

Your head falls back as he circles your clit, slow and deliberate.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he breathes against your ear.

"Don’t stop," you plead.

His mouth crushes yours again. Fingers pumping into you—slow, then faster. Curling just right. You moan into his mouth and he swallows every sound.

"Such a good girl," he pants. "Letting me do this. Letting me touch what no one else has."

Your orgasm hits hard—embarrassingly fast—but he doesn’t stop. He draws it out, fingers still working you as he kisses the tears from the corners of your eyes.

"You can take more," he says. "You’re gonna take all of me."

And you want it. You want all of him.

Even if it’s wrong. Even if you’re never just the babysitter again.

ꨄ︎slxttybrbie | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[M.list]

[belovedenzo]

nsfw theodore nott headcanons…

various sexually explicit headcanons w/ bf! theo

┃words; 1.4k

┃notes; just some things about bf! theo sex. this is my first theo post so I hope you enjoy it !

┃ warnings; NSFW MDNI 18+. toxic! theo. explicit and kinky themes.

┃ Dominant. No matter how tired or lazy he’s feeling, Theo always likes it best when he’s in control. Watching you squirm and lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, provides him with best high imaginable. He thinks it’s cute if you ever try and make him submit in any way but no matter how hard you may try, you always end up at his mercy.

┃ Sharing. It’s a guilty pleasure of his to watch the eyes of his closest friends eye your figure up and down when you walk into the room. At first it made him see red but once he became confident that you are his and no one else’s- he finds it cute. The idea that any of them think they could have some of you amuses him- the sight of them pining after you even started to turn him on. Eventually he may even let one of them fuck you in front of him, on his terms of course. Mattheo… if you were wondering.

┃ High sex. When you two finally get alone time together- Theo loves to spend it smoking joints in what ever spot he chose that day. Muggle weed has always had it’s way of putting him in the mood- it doesn’t take long before his lips and tongue are all over you. When he’s high he loves to take his time with you, his touch much more gentle that it typically is. He even lasts longer than he usually does, causing you to ache the next morning. ache so good

┃ Brat tamer. If he feels disrespected by you in any way you can except to be face down ass up by the end of the day. If you do something that rubs him just right the wrong way he makes sure that you understand what you did wrong while he’s deep inside of you. His insults and demands can be half heard through your fucked out conciseness- face stuffed in what ever surface he chose to press it into. You try to apologize over and over through your moans and gasps but he won’t be satisfied till your full of his cum. When Theo decides you need to be tamed he’s not nice about it- if there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s a brat. He loves it.

┃ Protective. No one has the nerve to mess with Theo’s girl- but if they did they’d have to get through him first. He loves to have you on his arm- showing you off like a present. In all truthfulness- watching their jealous eyes wander away quickly as he catches their glance turns him on. Their anxiety and fear that they got caught while his sweet girl is tucked under his broad shoulder. Something about the power he holds in that situation makes him want to fuck you in front of them- all of them.

┃ Face fucking. There’s nothing better than the view Theo gets of your mouth wrapped around his cock- deep down your throat. Tears sit in the corners of your half lidded, blissed out eyes, streaming down the sides of your rosy cheeks while he pushes your limits. He loves having you like this, fist fulls of your hair entagled in his fingers- having full control over your mouth and the pretty little head attached to it. If you try and intervene, punishment will be near in your future so you’ve stopped trying. However he knows you love the attention so the alligator tears don’t fool him.

┃ Thigh Riding. His hands hold onto your hips unyieding- your flesh making contact with his. He has you situated, your legs around the midst of his thigh. It always starts out painfully slow, Theo loves taking his time dipping your hips up and down closer to his thigh to tease your clit with contact. Once he starts giving you that sweet tension your pussy is begging for it doesn’t take long for you to finish all over his firm thigh. He never lets you have control of your own hips while your ride, but you’re always content submitting to him.

┃ Ass guy. Theo loves your ass and that’s final. Of course he thinks all of you is sexy but he can’t deny he’s an ass man. Most of his favorite positions to have you in, include your ass posted up nice and spread for him to see. The way it moves along with the snapping of his hips while he’s fucking you, or the way it shimmies behind you as you walk. It’s a huge turn on for him.

┃ Choking. The place his hands have always gravitated towards has been your neck. Even if it’s an innocent grab at your nape to show affection as you walk through the halls- his hands can be found resting on your neck. More often though, the reasonings aren’t as innocent. This is the best place for him to make you as small and vulnerable as possible. His grip is consistently anchored stiff but depending on his mood he may actually allow you to breathe.

┃ Cheating. Theo loves you- a lot. In fact, the feelings he’s had for you over the course of your relationship have been some of which he’s never experienced before. However that may be hard to believe due to his past of unfaithful actions. If you don’t give him enough attention for what ever reason it may be- Theo will eventually cheat. Some of the reason may be even out of spite, he can be just as vile as he can sweet. Any time you have attempted to stand up for yourself he simply manipulates you into forgiving and forgetting. Aka he makes you cum

┃ High pony tail. Undeniably- there is nothing you can do with your looks to turn him on more than a high pony. The way it pulls all of the hair out of your face has always been a big factor in the ponytail being a favorite but that’s not the only reason. It reminds him of how you look when both of his hands pull your hair back nice and tight- gripping it at the crown of your head to keep it out of the way while he forces his length down your throat. It makes you look sexy and brings back good memories- what’s there not to love?

┃ Mirrors. One reason why Theo loves fucking you in the prefects bathroom- is the mirror. Forcing you to watch yourself get the best dick of your life should be considered a treat. He’s always wanted to show you how fucked out your face looks when your below him and with a mirror- he can do just that. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t also like to watch as he pounds your cheeks from behind, watching you close your eyes in embarresment through the reflection at the slapping sounds. If you keep them closed for too long- he’ll force them back open if he has to, you have to watch. The way your face contorts and emotes amuses him, proving to himself yet again that he has you dick whipped.

┃ Hair tugging. This is one that you’ve almost grown to hate. Not only does Theo love to pull your hair during a usual rough sexcapade- he also does it when he thinks you need to be taught a lesson. Theo has never been afraid to hurt you and you know that- but merlin do you hate the snappy little hair pulls that he does when he doesn’t like something you said or if you disagree with him in front of his friends. Yeah- he has the nerve to do it in front of everybody. His long fingers yank and pull at your longest strands, a small sting kissing your scalp- his way of saying “stop.” When he’s in an extra loving mood he’ll even play with your hair which you love- but if he’s in an extra terrible mood you can except your hair to be yanked just a little harder while he takes his shitty day out on your pussy.

luv, spell

taglist; plz lmk if u need to be added or removed! @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dearmisshoney @shyamanuensis @riddlesbunny @enzosbabyangel @juliet-017 @ur-local-wizard @nottsstar @nottsamor @nottslove @riddlesrizzler @riddlesgirlie @riddleswhcre @riddlesgrl @eternalbuckley @obsessedwithceleste @pizzaapeteer @nemesyaaa @hayleygrrr @nemesyaaa @prythiansprincess @writingsbychlo

[anisangeldust]

May the 4th be with you, here’s some Vader smut!

The mechanic whoosh of DARTH VADERS durasteel suit echoed through the room as he took a seat in his bedchambers. Two of his clunky fingers gestured you over while he leaned back and tried to quell the constant pain that gnawed at him.

Silently, your feet patter against the cold tile of his quarters as you walk over to him. The only sounds in the room were the constant hum of the ship and his heavy vocoder breathing. Coming up behind him, you gently unhook the clamps of his helmet, a soft hissss ruching through the room.

“Master.” You mumble as his scarred and burned body come into view. Over the years you’d become something of a caretaker to the Sith Lord, originally put in place by Sideous -who did so clearly to further humiliate him- though now you almost enjoyed taking care of the tyrant.

Coming over to his front, you kneel and start to unhook his chest plate. Looking up, you meet his brilliantly yellow eyes. Though most of his face was mangled in burn scars, he was still almost.. handsome? You pushed that thought away for now. Each piece of his suit coming off meant more metallic clunking and gentle hissing.

As you moved to take off his boots, he moved his hand down and gently cupped your face “Little one.” He coos. Farley did he talk ever, it was clearly painful for his throat, but something about you always made him soft. “You’ve been too good to me.” He gestures you up to your feet. “You treat me like a man, though I’ve done nothing to deserve it.” He sighs.

“You’re evil. Not a monster.” You hold his heavy metal hand. “And you are a man. Despite everyone else having some sort of prejudice.” You smile. Something shifts in his eyes, almost like you’d said something unbelievable.

He pulls you down to his lap and looks over your face and body, examining you. “You stun me, little girl” he tsks “you do all for me with no wants in return” he let out a weak huff.

“I like helping y-“ he cuts you off by pulling v you against his tough-skinned chest “shh. I don’t care of your motives”

It felt weird. Vader swore he’d never touch another woman, but it had been so long, and even a Sith Lord needed to have some sort of relief. Your body was so soft and plush in his metal hands, so warm. There was a gentle stirring in his groin as you accepted his touch.

“You’ve proven.. loyal.” He starts, hoping to lure you into pleasing him. “If I asked you to do something.. would you?” He dares to look you in the eye.

“Of course.. yes.. anything” you nod almost immediately. You could see the way his eyes trailed hungrily over your body, something so human about the way he wanted you.

“I..” he starts “take my pants off.” His command is clear, though his weak voice made it sound almost pathetic.

As you climb off his lap, your Brian seems to be in overdrive. Obviously he wanted some sort of sexual favor, and obviously he didn’t ask just anyone. This was a weird dynamic you had found yourself in. As you took off his under armor pants, you were met with a, surprisingly, in tact cock.

Vader had almost the same expression. It wasn’t often he saw his own genitals anymore. His dick was about the only thing gang mostly survived Mustafar, though now it was a tad scared and mangled, with some ribbed skin running up the shaft. His balls were fairly okay, though they were in a metal cup that kept them from getting too exposed. And he was.. hung. Vader looked almost shocked at how hard you’d gotten him, no one turned him on, not since Padmé.

Carefully, you stand up. Unhooking your imperial uniform, you drop your skirt. Vader let out a mangled groan, it had been years since he’d seen the body of a young woman, and he found you tantalizing. “C’mere little on. Ride me. Show me how loyal you are to your empire.” His voice was substantially more hoarse than usual as he patted his thigh.

You gently walked toward him, he looked so real, so.. normal. Despite his fiery injuries, he was so mundane right now. Climbing onto his lap, you gather some of your own arousal and start to rub it up and down his cock. You felt a pair of invisible fingers tease your pussy, gestating you ready for him.

“Good girl..” he coos “go on..” the Sith urges you to sink down on him. After some positioning, you move down, he let out and low growl, it was embarrassing how good it felt to have a tight, willing cunt. As his cock stretched you out so deliciously.

“Oh.. mmph..” you bit your bottom lip “Vader…” his eyes shoot open as you moan his Sith name “No..” he growls “call me Anakin.. don’t..” he shakes his head.

Still bounding and gasping, you nod “Anakin..” you force out, so overwhelmed with the situation that your voice was small and quiet.

“Good girl… kriff..! Good- fuck..” he groans as you move up and down on his pulsing shaft. It was strange to hear is actual name, let alone have it moaned. But at the same time it turned him on to no end.

“I’m.. Anakin.. I’m..” you whine and finish on his cock, squirming in his lap. He was quick behind you, a strangled moan leaving him as he finishes in you.

After a few moments, he speaks “you e done good. I might make this a regular thing, little one.” He praises.

You dare to giggle “I can’t say I’ll hate that.”

[yeonmuse]

meandom!heeseung that degrades reader and makes her ride his thighs (smut prompt no. 1)

This one is long overdue im so sorry but I’ve finally got around to clearing my inbox

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!),mean heeseung, slight dom, dirty talk, thigh riding

Heeseung was used to girls yearning for him and falling at his feet, but she had been on an entirely new level. She was like a desperate attention seeking virgin that he couldn’t wait to bend to his will. It all started with innocent glances and the fluttering of her eyelashes when she looked at him. Eventually that led to her leaving drinks and sweet notes at his desk out of hopes that he’d give her the attention she had seeked from him for the longest time now. Eventually he gave in flashing her that charming smile as he approached her at her locker just to thank her for the drinks. That one interaction has lit a fire in her and what was once a subtle crush turned into silent yearning and desperation.

Heeseung had been leaving the gym after practice when he heard a sound so sweet and alluring he wouldn’t dare pass up the opportunity to listen. As he drew closer to the girls locker rooms and heard the sound of your sweet voice his mouth nearly fell open. So that’s where you had disappeared to? Heeseung knew you would often come in to watch his practice, of course you’d always hide behind the facade of coming to watch your best friend yeonjun but he knew very well your eyes would always find him.

The more he listened in on your ragged breath and painfully desperate whines the more he felt his cock twitch against the inside of his basketball shorts. His problem only seemed to worsen as he heard the sound of his name come spilling from his lips and he froze in place. His name had just fallen from your lips so sweet and distressed he couldn’t even stop his feet from moving.

After glancing around the gym to make sure no one else had been there he steps inside dropping his bag at the locker room entrance. He strides through what seemed like an endless stretch of lockers until finally he found you, sat on one of the dressing benches, legs spread and fingers shoved into your jeans as if you’d been too scared to fully push them down.

Heeseung let out a playful whistle, putting a quick end to the girl's showcase and making her scramble to her feet, her cheeks burning with nothing but shame and embarrassment as she struggled to find any logical explanation.

“H- heeseung.’’

“You put on quite a show, i mean i knew you were a little desperate but this?’’

“I’m sorry..’’ heeseungs smirk only widened at the way you looked away from him, a shameful expression shading over your face.

“Sorry? Oh princess, you aren’t sorry. I bet this isn’t even the first time is it? First time you’ve buried your fingers into yourself like a desperate slut while moaning my name.” he watched as your lips pressed into a thin line and you remained silent and the smirk was immediately wiped from his face.

“Answer me yn.’’ annoyance was evident in his voice, yet still you remained silent and frozen in place as if the embarrassment of being caught had shut you down entirely. In a flash Heeseung had stood before you, hand holding a fist full of your hair forcing you to stare up and return his gaze.

“I said answer me princess.’’

“No..’’ the shake in your voice told Heeseung exuding you needed to know

“No what. Speak up.’’

“It’s not my first time.’’ you finally choke out embarrassingly, your cheeks heating up the longer he stood there looking at you, his gaze like some sort of burning light.

“I knew it, you’re so pathetic, all worked up over someone that rarely ever even speaks to you.’’ he chuckles before finally letting go of your hair with a rough jerk stepping back from you and taking a seat on the bench.

You weren't sure how to take his words, but he was right. Here he was degrading you, making you feel less than you were and you were everything but upset about it, in fact it turned you in even more.

“Go on then pretty, you want relief so bad. Sit.” He spits out, making your eyes widen and sending you into an eternal panic.

“W-what?”

“Sit. I won’t ask again.” He repeats, his gaze ushering her to have a seat on his thigh.

“B-but someone could”

“Walk in? You weren't thinking of that when you had your fingers shoved into your pretty pussy screaming my name now did you?” He watched as you silently shook your head, unable to spit out any sort of defenses or retorts because he had been entirely right.

“We don’t have all day. This is what you were so desperate for right? For me to hear you? For me to come in here and make you feel good? I bet you wanted me to hear you hm?” Your cheeks flushed and your legs feel like jelly beneath you, his taunts lulling you into a new state of desperation you never knew had been possible until now. “Come on pretty girl.”

That was all it took to get you sitting on his lap, legs straddling his thigh as he held your head in place forcing you to stare into his eyes as he flexed his thigh.

“Fuck soaking my thigh already, who knew you were this desperate?” He chuckles at your audible reaction. The drag of your clit against his muscular thigh makes you whimper. He can’t help but find amusement at the way you’re pressing yourself harder against his thigh.

“Such a pretty thing, drooling over my thighs already. You wanted to ride them that badly?” His hands ghost over your hips as your hips move at a desperately speedful pace. He watched as your vulnerability unfolds in his lap.

“That’s it princess, doesn’t it feel good?” He questions, his hands rubbing at your thighs and your waist as he egged you on. You can’t seem to find the words to respond, overwhelmed by pleasure. You nod dumbly, moaning out his name as he tenses his thigh.

“Want you to cum, can you do that? Cum on my thigh, want you to walk around like this all day knowing what you did to get that way. You wanted it so bad. Stay like this until the day ends.” He groans, your arousal audible now with each drag. Your legs begin to shake with exertion, heeseung taking the opportunity to continuously grind you into his thigh, muscles tensing sporadically.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise despite the build up, head thrown back with a moan and eyes rolled back. “Oh god, Heeseung, please.” You moan out, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.

“There we go, good girl.” He groans, his thigh absolutely covered in you. He holds you still, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Now clean up before someone sees sweetheart, wouldn’t want them knowing that their little sweetheart is just a desperate little slut”

I rarely write smut and haven’t done it in so long guys go easy on me please 😭 im better at aus

[heartyluv]

love your blog so dang much 🫶🫶🫶 may I request protective Sylus who is there to prevent reader from harm in a sticky situation? (circumstances completely up to you) 💕

Note: Ahhhh, I can’t thank you enough. Making you happy makes me happy! I wasn’t too sure how to go about this, but I think it ended up coming out pretty decent. I hope you think so. It’s actually longer than I anticipated, too. Enjoy!

Warning: Shooting, Sylus kills someone, Gross man touches and hits you. Sylus arrives in time so nothing graphic happens, but please, still read with caution.

Sylus/Reader

“It’s not too late to change your mind. I can figure out how to get what I need another way.”

“I know you can. But I know I can do this for you.” You take hold of your worrying boyfriend’s hand, caressing his knuckles gently with your thumb.

“In and out, do you understand?” He says gruffly, concern etched in his tone. You look to Sylus with full attention, comprehending and digesting all of his words. “Do not compromise yourself and do not put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“Just because I don’t care to do something a certain way, doesn’t mean it won’t be done in order to keep you safe,” he says firmly before taking your hand and sliding a small ruby red ring onto your thumb. “Do not hesitate to press this should you need me.”

When you offered to help your boyfriend complete a job, of course his first and immediate response was no. You weren’t trained, nor did he want you to be apart of this kind of aspect of his life. He was the one who got his hands dirty, who lied and manipulated who he needed to in order to get things done—not you. But you begged him.

You begged him so much, promised that you could help. You just wanted to feel useful. You wanted Sylus to know how much you really had his back, how dedicated you are to him. You wanted to prove yourself.

But he didn’t need you to do that because Sylus knew how much he could trust you and how much you cared for him. He was your protector and letting you do this goes against everything he stands for when it comes to keeping you safe. It was with complete reluctance when he finally caved and said yes to letting you enter a party undercover. It was only because he truly saw how much you were bothered and came to understand how important it was to you to be useful despite it being unnecessary in his eyes

It’s a fairly simple job. You’re to retrieve documents relating to the operations of an arms dealer trying to climb the ranks to surpass a top businessman like your boyfriend.

He wasn’t a threat, but Sylus handled his business in a way that never allowed something with potential to solidify. Knowing what this man was going for, who he was working with, and his plans, was all he needed to squash his business before it could really get off the ground.

You look down at the short tight black dress you put on, feeling slightly uncomfortable because not only did you not tend to wear clothes like this, but you were wearing it to flaunt yourself in order to gain the arms dealer’s, Mikael’s, attention.

Sylus’ main reason as to why he was allowing you to do this because he would be out here waiting for you with Luke and Kieran, ready to wreak havoc if necessary. Admittedly, if you were able to go in and obtain the information he needed, it would make his life incredibly easy, but difficultly wasn’t a foreign concept to Sylus. If anything happens to you, going in with guns blazing wasn’t above him, even if it would cause some hiccups that he’d have to deal with. He had no other plan at the moment and you were his best shot, but in the end? You were coming home with him unscathed.

You look out the window of the SUV you’re in and gaze at the large mansion with obnoxious strobe lights and loud music. Luke is parked right beside you in a sleek red sports car, ready to drive you to the front door so that you can have a flashy entrance. It’ll draw Mikael’s attention and unfortunately, that’s exactly what you need. Bringing your eyes back to Sylus, you softly smile and hope your nervousness isn’t so evident.

“I got this Sy, I promise. In and out.” He nods curtly, reaching over the center console and kissing your lips before sighing. He gives you the okay to go, watching you climb out of the passenger seat of the black vehicle and into the backseat of the expensive one. Kieran sits up in the backseat, patting his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay, Boss. She’s smart and we’re here for her if anything.”

But Sylus doesn’t speak. He simply watches the car turn onto the road and head to the house whose backyard he’s about to wait in while you’re inside. For their sake, you will be okay. Because no one will be able to control the man he will become if you aren’t.

When Luke drives off, your body buzzes with uncertainty. There’s no guards or anything, but you know they’re around. That incognito feeling and uncertainty of their placements has you on edge, but Sylus assured you that he had it covered. Slowly, you climb the marble steps and walk into the lavish home, feeling the beat pulse through your body as dozens of people gyrate against each other in any open space available.

And just as you thought, Mikael has been staring at you since the moment you came in. You know he heard the loud music Luke played, know he’s curious about the lone woman who’s come to his party.

Sylus showed you several images of him, so you’re not mistaken about who the older man is. Short, stubby, balding, and in his 50s.

Two women sit on his lap in the little VIP section he’s created from himself and he roughly squeezes their thigh, saying something before they stand up. Mikael is next, pushing past them with two cups of what you assume is alcohol, in his hand as he makes his way to you.

“And what is a pretty lady like you doing, coming here alone? Come to see me, hm?” His grin is mischievous and it makes you want to cringe as he hands you the drink of what smells like whiskey. But you promised Sylus. You promised yourself.

You smirk, stepping closer and looking him up and down, biting your lip to make him believe that you want him. What you really want is to vomit.

“And if I did?” you tease, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and his eyes fall to your mouth.

“I’d say you’re a smart broad.” He steps closer, his overpowering cologne washing over you as he whispers in your ear.

“I gotta say, ain’t been no girls as sexy as you in here tonight. Come to the VIP and we’ll see how lucky you get.”

Disrespectful and full of himself. Every single part of you wants to kick his ass.

You simply smile and nod, taking his sweaty hand and letting him guide you to the booths he has in the corner of what seems to be the living room. Sylus said his office is upstairs and that’s where he has the documents.

You’re so close. You won’t fail, you tell yourself.

It feels like hours go by as he gropes your body in ways that makes you want to have his hands shot off. From your ass to your thighs, he just keeps touching. But you need to get into that office. You refused to drink, trying to keep him talking and distracted with monotonous conversation.

And finally, finally he says what you’ve been waiting for.

“Why don’t I take you upstairs? Show you around?” He grabs himself through his pants, and the urge to hurl continues to grow. Your anxiety spikes as well, because this is exactly what Sylus said not to do, but it’s the only way you have.

“Don’t let yourself end up alone with him. If you can’t a way to the office by yourself, leave. I’ll be there for you.”

But you can’t leave. You won’t.

People continue to party as Mikael brings you upstairs and down one of many halls, showing you several different rooms. He’s flaunting his wealth clearly, as well as his status while he gloats on and on about how he doesn’t know what to do with all the space.

He passes a door though, and that makes you stop.

“What’s in here?” you speak up, and he turns around with a sly smile.

“Curious thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “My office. Nothing in there you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Mm, I’m not worried. But I do like offices. I like them a lot,” you let your words end in a flirtatious tone.

“Yeah? Tell me what you like.”

“Why don’t I show you?” He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Easy. Of course he is.

He pulls a key out of his pocket, using it to unlock the door. Paranoid too, it seems.

When you’re in the office, you look for the safe. Sylus mentioned that would be behind a painting and how convenient that there’s only one in here with Mikael sitting on a throne. Pitiful.

Before you can try and say anything, Mikael wraps his arms around your waist and your body tense as he kisses your neck.

“Wait—” You try and speak but he’s tugging at your dress.

“No wait,” he grumbles, his breath like lava on your skin. “You don’t get to tease me all night and try and take it slow, doll. Show me what you like about offfices so much.”

You try and push him back, but he just starts getting more aggressive. The more you pushback, the angrier he becomes. So much so that he hits you because of your resistance.

You fall to the floor due to the impact, your eyes widening with fear at what he might try and do. Is he going to kill you? Worse? You don’t want to find out.

You’re way in over you head. You hate that it took you this long to realize that, but you need help. You need Sylus and you need him now.

It’s as soon as you press the button on the ring that you start hearing gunfire. Mikael looks at you with accusatory eyes.

“You bitch!” he snarls. “What did you do?! Who do you work for?!”

He starts to snatch you up, griping your arm tightly, but the door kicks open, wood splintering and flying through the room. Sylus doesn’t even give him a chance to let you go. He simply shoots him in the knee, causing Mikael to fall to the floor in agony.

“I’m so sorry,” you mewl, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Sylus squats down next to you, his eyes raking over your body. It’s the sight of your disheveled clothes, the red print on your face and arm, and the fact that you pressed the button in the first place, that makes his blood boil. He’s fueled with rage, but he refuses to scare you more than you already are.

“You’re okay,” he promises you. “I’m taking us home.”

Mikael looks at Sylus with shock and fear, still disoriented from the pain.

“S-Sylus!” he shouts and your boyfriend stands, giving him attention and tilting his head.

“I mean, Mr. Sylus! I didn’t know—I swear, she came onto me! I would never—“

“Your attempt to excuse your actions only angers me more than I already am. For her, I will make your death swift.” He takes a step forward. “Had I not been so determined to make sure she remains okay, you would have felt more pain than the result of a bullet. You’re a poor excuse of a human being and there is no such thing as redemption for you. Maybe you’ll do better in your next life.” Sylus shoots Mikael so that one bullet is all he needs to end him, point blank.

You jump, tears falling down your cheeks. You’re embarrassed and shaken up. Sylus has killed in front of you before. That’s not what scares you. It’s just the intensity and reality of it all. You weren’t ready, and Sylus was right to be hesitant.

But he doesn’t think any of that at all.

“Come, sweetie,” he gently grabs hold of your hands. “I’m here. Can you stand?”

You nod, letting him help you up as he rests his suit jacket on your shoulders. He guides you out of the barren home and back into the SUV, throwing orders to the twins to get everything cleaned up and to get the files.

The drive is silent, all the way until you’re back home. Sylus helps you out the car when you arrive, taking you inside. He brings you to the grand bathroom and begins to undress you, then runs a hot bath with your favorite bath salts and soaps. He undresses himself next, letting you step into the tub first before climbing in and sitting behind you.

“I’m sorry…” you finally speak, only to apologize again.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I failed—”

“I failed. I knew better than to let you go in there, yet I did it anyway. But you’re safe now, kitten. As long as I’m breathing, you will always be safe. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” you say just below a whisper.

“Put all your faith in me. I won’t make the mistake of putting you in harms way ever again.”

Your eyes water again and you turn around, taking advantage of the large tub to sit in his lap. You wrap yourself around him, holding him close as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Sleep, sweetie,” he kisses your cheek. “I have you. I’ll take care of everything.”

You listen to him because you trust him as much as he does you. Had he not been there… you don’t even want to think of it anymore. All that matters is that he was. He will always come to your rescue because a life without you is not a life Sylus will ever experience. That, he is sure.

[c4tluver02]

locket

wc: 1.6k

summary: Steve is the best boyfriend who gets you gifts and takes you on late night drives!!!!

warnings: u have long hair, hes taller than u (?) but nothing! flufffffyyy

“Were you able to go shopping with Rob?” 

“Yeah, I helped her with some stuff and I actually got you something.” He says mumbling the last few words together. 

A laugh escapes you at his antics. It's your nightly call with Steve where you ask each other about the day even though you will probably see him sometime tomorrow. 

“You what? Sorry, say that again?” You heard him but Steve spoils you too much which you've told him time and time again he definitely doesn't need to do. 

“I did get you something but I immediately thought of you when I saw it so I just had to get it for you.” 

Your heart can't help but flutter at how thoughtful your boyfriend is.  “That's very sweet of you Stevie.” He can tell you're smiling as you say it. “I actually made cookies for you, I was gonna bring them over tomorrow.” You say factually, lucky that you had a gift in return. 

“Well I could always come over now and we could have a gift exchange? Maybe a little late night drive after?” He knows a late night drive is your favorite. Not always accessible since he can't just teleport to you. 

“It’s 9pm my love. I will see you tomorrow I promise.” You would feel so guilty if he drove all the way over here for some cookies. Despite wanting to see the gift he got it wasn't worth wasting gas over. 

“Exactly, it's only 9 I know you won't be asleep for another few hours. I'll come through your window and I'll be so silent like-.”  

“Like a ninja I know.” You copy him with a laugh. “I’ll unlock my window, okay? See you soon.” He makes a hard bargain and you honestly would love to see him, waiting till tomorrow felt so far away. 

– 

You lay on your bed reading a book but it only takes a few minutes for him to arrive. When you hear a soft knock on your window you jump. 

“Sorry I thought knocking would help not scare you.” Steve says as he opens the window. 

You close the book and walk over towards him. He’s getting his leg in and you have your hand on his back holding him steady. 

“See? Like a ninja.” Steve says smiling at you.

You beam back at him. Only a handful of times that Steve felt through your window prepared you to have a hand ready for him to grab on incase he falls. 

“Very graceful.” You say quickly before giving him a kiss. “I have your cookies, do you want one right now?” Stepping down from your tippy toes you walk over to your bedside table that the cookies rest on. 

“I mean it wouldn't hurt to try one to make sure it's not poisonous.” He shrugs, taking his shoes off to lay on your bed. 

“You think I'd poison you Stevie?” Your eyes are big and glossy, lips a little pouted and Steve wishes he could kiss the look off your face. You are wearing a sweater of his and sweats that also might be his based on how long they are on you. 

“Course not, but any good baker needs a taste tester right?” He teases, eyes scanning you up and down. Steve goes to bite the cookie in your hand and you're too late to swipe it away. 

“Mmmm. So good.” A deep moan comes out of him as he lays his head back on your pillow. 

You take a bite of your own and nod to yourself. It actually is very good, maybe you should go pro. It makes you smile to yourself that Steve would probably back you up on it. When you finish the cookie you lay down next to him and his arms wrap around you immediately. 

A soft hand goes under your hoodie to rub your back and you snuggle your face in his neck. He smells heavenly and even better he's like a burning hot furnace. The sweat pants and hoodie is only doing so much for you during the winter. 

Before you both accidentally fall asleep you lift your head up. Steve's eyes are closed and he's waiting for you to say something. 

“So are you gonna give me my gift or what?” You ask as you rest your chin on his chest. 

“Hmm, aren't we eager?” His eyes are still closed but a smile is spreading on his face. You wish you could stare at him a little longer, he looks so pretty right now. 

“I just gave you your gift. I thought we were having a fair trade off.” Now you're fully off of Steve and laying on your knees with arms crossed. 

“Okay, okay let me get it.” There's a small bag at the end of your bed, it's got tissue paper in it and you can tell the store wrapped it for him. 

“Steve.” You say nervously. “Please tell me whatever’s in there is not expensive, that looks expensive.” 

He gives you a small kiss to your temple before sitting back on your bed. Simply handing it to you for you to open. He feels giddy and extremely excited to see your response. 

Gently opening it, scared to break it in any way, you see a small box at the bottom. It’s a dark blue velvet case and when you open it there's a locket. 

A gasp comes out of you as you pull it closer to get a better look at it. “Steve oh my gosh.” 

“I haven’t put anything in it yet. I thought we could look through some pictures together and I can fit it in there.” He quickly says. “Do you like it?” Eyes searching for yours in confirmation. 

“Do I like it? I love it. I've never gotten anything like this, it's so beautiful.”  You wrap your arms around him and he falls back onto the bed. Giving his cheeks a ton of kisses till you finally meet his lips and give him a deep kiss. 

“Thank *kiss* you *kiss* so *kiss* much.” And by the end of the sentence he's in a fit of giggles. 

“Of course baby, want me to help you put it on?” 

“Yes please!” You turn so your back is facing him and lift your hair up. 

He puts it on with ease and gives you a gentle kiss behind your ear. 

Turning back to him you give him one more hug. “I can't believe you got me this and all I did was make you some cookies.” It comes out just a little muffled because of how you hold your head on his shoulder. 

He laughs still rubbing your back and giving your hips a squeeze. “The cookies are a great gift. I love your cookies.” 

“You really didn’t need to get me this Stevie.” You say letting go of the hug. Your hands finding their way to his jaw.

“I know I didn’t need to but I wanted to so let me spoil you, okay?” He says putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stroking your cheek. 

“Okay.” You melt at the touch, leaning into his hand. 

“Now how about we go for a quick ride and then you can get some beauty rest.” 

You giggle and get up, opening your window as he slips his shoes back on. The way you flawlessly get out with no issue isn't lost on Steve. He has just as much trouble getting back out as he did getting it, maybe because he's taller than you he thinks. 

As you close your window you turn around to see Steve ready with the passenger door open. You step in and get buckled up as Steve gets in to do the same. 

“What type of music are we thinking?” You ask.

“Probably something soft if you’re gonna fall asleep.” 

You roll your eyes playfully and hit his arm. “I won't fall asleep.” You state standing your ground. 

“Okay, put on whatever then.” Steve decides not to bite back instead he rests his hand on your thigh and rubs soft circles. 

Youre only about 7 minutes into the album you played, with his warm hand on you and the soft melody of his voice your eyes can't help but flutter close. It’s an extremely cozy moment and it lulls you to sleep within minutes. Steve decides to go around once more before he decides to take you back. 

A soft rub on your cheek wakes you up and you let out a groan. You were so comfortable and now Steve has to leave. Possibly the worst thing ever? 

“Can’t I just go home with you?” Too tired in your sleepy state.

“M sorry baby, but then your parents won't know where you went.” His hand is still holding your head for you. 

“I’ll still see you tomorrow though right?” 

“Yes you will see me tomorrow.” 

Finally giving in, you get up and give him a hug goodbye. “Thank you again for the locket.” You say before kissing him. 

“Mhm no problem angel.” He says it so softly and the way his hands linger tells you he doesn't want you to go either. 

But alas you get out of his car and he waits for you to safely get back into your room before he waves his final goodbye to you. There's a tired grumpy look on your face that makes him laugh as he drives away. He couldn't wait to see you tomorrow.

[yandere-yearnings]

Burn & Burn Again (Male Yandere!Writer x GN!Reader)

feat. Sun Vasileiou Nevrakis

♡ pt.6, approx. 1.3k words | prev. | next.

♡ post-specific warnings: implied forced isolation, implied (emotional) manipulation, beginnings of a stockholm-esque relationship, vv light suggestive dialogue at end | series warnings: yandere themes, reader is a horrendous flirt

♡ a/n: this part is dedicated to @/urprettylildoe bc it really wouldn't have been written if not for her sweet words!! thank you for everything doe <3 this is purely a work of fiction. yandere behaviour in real life is a cause of concern. unedited, not proofread.

��♡♡

Running water in the night woke you gentler than it used to, clock on your bedside table pooling neon into the backs of your eyes. Three in the morning — an hour earlier than usual for the steam swirling into your bedroom from the en suite. Sun always showered in the dark, temperature tipping over the edge into scalding, the only time the mellow, mellow vanilla of his body wash couldn’t lull you because the humidity was suffocating, and the sweat dried cold on you as you lay there.

There was no reason behind the anxiety that clawed your chest, in fact, ever since you’d moved in with him, Sun had been nothing but an angel. It was just that when he wasn’t in your line of sight, you could never shake the unplaceable feeling that lay low in your gut and began to manducate. Something in his eyes had always been different to everyone else’s. You thought you’d fall familiar to the gaze, but the months were dripping out your time like it was venous, and every day he looked a bit more distant from who he was when you had first met him.

You wanted to justify it for him, this strangeness that felt like a second skin forming — intangible, and yet still somehow stripping off of him in viscous strings whenever you tried to reach out and talk about it. Sun had only told you a little, after the casino; sitting on the stone steps that encircled the fountain in his garden and drunk out of his mind. His biggest fear was being left behind, and his biggest fear had cycled and cycled throughout his life so much so that Sun knew people’s backs better than he did their faces. You couldn’t hurt him anymore. You’d have rather not come into his life to begin with than do that, and who you were to him now could only be pinned on your advances alone.

You guessed he’d changed you, heart a little less selfish, and a lot more tired because of it. Even through the foreboding, you still couldn’t help but be pleasant to him; rationalise that nothing could go wrong if you treated your relationship with normalcy. Would that be enough to undo the weight of it?

In the palm of your hand, your phone felt foreign, as did the list of contacts you scrolled through. It had been weeks since you’d had a proper conversation with anyone else. Sun needed your attention more  — and you weren’t going to deny him. You knew intimately that there were cracks in the glass house he called out to you from.

Whether it was muscle memory or just that you were missing her, Bea’s name was the one that your thumb had been hovering over when you refocused. Not giving yourself a chance to think twice about it, you pressed dial and held it to your ear. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey,” her voice, as soft as ever, came in a groggy little whisper. Of course you’d woken her, of course she didn’t make anything of it. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” your head sunk a little further into your pillow, and the corners of the room faded from your vision until it was just the flat expanse of ceiling above you, “just wanted to hear your voice.”

The bubbly giggle that filtered through the speakers had the smile spreading on your lips. “In that case,” she said, “I should read you a bedtime story.”

“You really shouldn’t,” eyes crinkling, the breath you’d been holding cleared, “you’ve got an early morning at the bakery today, right?”

Bea hummed evasively. “Since when did you start remembering these things?”

“Since you added that cake to your menu that I can’t begin my day without,” you teased. “Really, you should go back to bed now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay!” She was quick to refute, “you know I’ll never mind.” 

The shower had turned off a minute ago, and now it was just the comfortable silence that settled between the two of you as you blinked up. The yawn that Bea had undoubtedly tried to muffle reached you nevertheless, but she began to speak again before you could.

“I’ll call you soon, ‘kay? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Yeah.” You thought about the secrets you’d been keeping from her — how even now, she didn’t know about Sun — you had more than a lot of explanations due. “Talk to you soon. I love you.”

The bathroom door opens and you cut the line before she can reciprocate, or hear the virulent tone your boyfriend takes as he pads over, plucks the phone right from your grasp. “Who do you love?”

His hair is dripping water like ink, saturating spots into the towel around his neck; face entirely unreadable even though you’re acutely aware of the fact that he’s filtering through your call log. In this variable darkness, you can make out the clench of his fist by his side.

“She’s my best friend.” Sitting up, you take his hand gently, unfurl his fingers from where they’re digging into his palm and tug him to the bed. “I’ve told you about her before.”

His shoulders seem to relax some as he settles, collarbones following a droop down that you can’t help but track. There’s a glassy clarity in his orbs when he leans closer, and he asks you with a furrow in his brow: “do you love her more than me?”

You would have begun to explain the difference between the love one could feel for a friend and the love one could feel for a partner — that they weren’t the same thing, that they could not be measured on the same scale — but Sun wouldn’t be able to understand that. He’d tilt his head at you, and think you were telling him he had competition, as he had done all the times before this.

“I could never.”

His cheek pressed to yours when you moved to wind your arms around him, cold, cold skin despite the hot currents he had been under just a heartbeat ago. His lips were soft against the shell of your ear, his voice even softer with a lacing vulnerability. “I don’t like it when you don’t pay attention to me.”

Your laugh came slightly cut from a bitterness you couldn’t pin the source of, and your digits tangled in his hair, tugged him back a bit. “Sun,” you said, “you don’t like it when I talk to anyone.”

When he blinked at you, you swallowed. Even if you had the saliva to wet your throat, you were sure it would just dry up again and your words would die trapped between the walls of your larynx. What compelled the shred of honesty you rasped out was tied to trust, to the credence that you could meet him at the same intensity as he met you. “Lately it’s like you’ve been caging me in.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he exhaled.

“What?”

Sun considers you, and then the corner of his mouth is twitching up by a fraction — the kindling heaviness dissipates just like that. “You could cage me up too,” he tips back, eyeing the exact spot up ahead that you had been focused on before, “we can make it a kink thing.”

Your brow raises. “Is it a kink thing?”

“No.” His smile drops, and then he turns away from you to shuffle through his side drawer; takes out a pen and a small notebook. “Still, you wouldn’t want otherwise,” he scribbles something down and you’re unable to catch it before the cover closes, “believe me.”

[pitchsidestories]

the weight of light II Ona Batlle x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1169

summary: The pain is familiar. Letting someone in isn’t. But Ona stays. requested

author's note: Hi, the fanfic is for anyone living with migraines or other neurological illnesses. It's a personal story for us . We hope this brings a little comfort.💙❤️

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

The weight of the light felt unbearable. Normally, you loved how the flat you shared with your girlfriend was bathed in the warm sunshine of Barcelona. The little disco balls hanging from the ceiling would scatter reflections across the room. But today, you had no eyes for the pretty aesthetics. Everything felt like too much—the pain was consuming you.

“I’m home.”, Ona called out as she stepped into the hallway, her voice like the soft chime of bells.

When you didn’t answer, too drained to call back, she grew concerned. “Amor?”, the brunette added, her tone laced with worry.

“Hey…”, you whispered faintly.

Alarmed, Ona’s eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, curled up on the sofa: “What’s wrong?”

“I…”, you began.

But there was no need to finish. Understanding dawned on her face, and a gentle, sympathetic smile formed on her lips: “Oh. Migraine.”

“Yes. It’s bad.”, you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Even speaking was exhausting. A part of you felt almost ashamed—she’d spent the day training, working hard, while you hadn’t moved from the sofa since getting home. Everything was just too much.

Softly, Ona placed a cool hand against your forehead: “Can I do anything?”

“I was alone in the hospital while you were at training.”, you admitted, your voice small.

At once, she pulled back slightly, her expression shifting to hurt and disbelief: “Alone? You should’ve called me.”

“You were busy.”, you replied flatly.

The footballer sighed in frustration: “Yes, but I’d have come. You’re more important than a training session.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it on my own.”, you replied, trying to convince both her and yourself with those words.

Gently, Ona reminded you: “That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” Clearing her throat, she continued: “So, what can I do for you? Get you a glass of water? A soft blanket? Comfy clothes?”

“All of it? But… can you just stay here for a minute?”, you asked, a faint smile tugging at your lips, touched by her eagerness to help.

An amused smirk spread across her face: “Of course.” The brunette carefully wrapped her strong arms around you, holding you close.

“Thanks.”, you murmured gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, the defender replied, pressing feather-light kisses to the tense muscles in your back.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath: “That’s nice.”

“It is.”

 “Oni?” you muttered.

Behind you, you felt her body relax too—the tiredness from a long day of training on the pitch and in the gym finally catching up with her. “Hm?”

“I’m okay. You know that, right?”, you said gently.

Ona nodded; her voice tinged with unhappiness: “I do. It just hurts to see you suffer like this… and I can do so little.”

“You’re doing enough.”, you reassured her, pressing a soft kiss to the spot on her hand where why not was tattooed.

Ona watched you for a moment, then tilted her head inquisitively: “Do you want to keep talking or is that too exhausting right now?”

“Is it okay if we just stay here and not talk?”, you asked, a little guiltily.

But Ona just nodded, understanding.: “Yes, that’s more than okay.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, closing your eyes against the overwhelming sensory overload.

“No, worries.”, she said softly, resting her head against your shoulder blade.

“I don’t worry.”, you whispered back.

“Good.” You could feel her smile behind you.

The two of you stayed like that in comfortable silence. You weren’t sure if you dozed off, everything was just draining, but still your body slowly began to relax.

“Ona?”, you said quietly into the silence. You had no idea how much time had passed. Five minutes? Three hours?

“Yeah?” Her voice was thick with sleep, and you immediately felt bad for waking her. But the dehydration was starting to make things worse.

“Water?”, you asked, your voice pleading.

Without hesitation, Ona sat up and said, “Yes. I’ll get us both a glass.”

“Love you,” you said softly as she turned to leave the room.

She paused, glanced back, and looked at you for a second: “I love you too.”

You laid in silence, eyes closed, while Ona clinked around in the kitchen, every sound she made louder than usual.

She returned with two glasses of water in her hands. Setting one down at the coffee table, she knelt beside you with the other. You sat up slowly, and she helped guide the glass to your lips.

You took a few slow sips, then leaned back with a relieved sigh. “Thanks. I needed that,” you whispered.

“No problem.”, she replied, settling behind you again.

Once your thirst was quenched, you drifted off into a deeper sleep. Steadier and calmer than before like blanket wrapped around you, shielding you from the pain. Ona fell asleep soon after, right beside you

You woke up again in the early morning hours when the sun just started to rise. Soft golden light filtered into the room, painting the room in warm colours.

It even started to reach the little disco ball already, casting tiny reflections across the floor. You still felt a little foggy, but the throbbing was gone. Carefully, trying not to wake Ona, you got up from the sofa and slipped into the kitchen.

You started making coffee for the two of you, the aroma of freshly ground beans filling the flat. As you thought back to yesterday, you were overcome with gratitude for your girlfriend, which sparked an idea—you slipped a handwritten thank-you note into the sports bag she always took to work.

Sleep still lingered in Ona’s eyes as she made her way to the kitchen, a grin spreading across her face when she spotted the already-made coffee on the counter.

While the two of you chatted about lighter things, she glanced into her sports bag, as she always did before heading out. Ona spotted the note and held it up.

“Amor, that wasn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it was.”, you said, gently disagreeing.

Softly, she replied: “You know I like taking care of you. You don’t have to thank me.”

“Still—” you began.

But Ona pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you with a kiss on the forehead: “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

“I do. I had the best nurse at home.”, you said with a wink, knowing full well how compliments like that made her blush.

“I’ll always be your nurse.”, she said with a smile.

“It goes the other way too.”, you assured her.

She raised an eyebrow: “You mean when I’ve got another football injury?”

“For example.”, you replied.

“That sounds fair.”, Ona decided.

The weight of migraine will probably always be part of your life - but it felt easier with her by your side than alone. And there was always a better tomorrow, like today. That was something to look forward to.

You opened the window and let in the fresh breeze. The birds were already singing outside.

[moonknightly]

lost in a moment, every moment when we touch—

poe dameron x afab!reader

word count: 2.8k+

warnings: porn with really no plot, alcohol consumption (and poe's kind of pushing it without really pushing it), rough sex, idk nothing special it's just drunk sex with your boyfriend after you leave a shitty bar for the night, i use “fuck” a lot because “kriff” just wasn’t hitting the way i needed it to

notes: happy may the fourth babies<3 i haven't written for my man in years but here he is

It’s rare that you find yourself able to step away from the fast paced, chaotic world this never ending war has brought upon the galaxy. You hardly have a moment to breathe before jumping from one mission onto the next. 

Not that you mind, of course you don’t mind. You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the Resistance. 

So of course you look a little out of place when you wind up with a night off after another successful mission and end up at a questionable bar with your comrades. The music is loud but so different from rapid gunfire, and it’s dark but not like the endless galaxy outside of your X-Wing. The stimuli are so completely unfamiliar while harboring traits you should be accustomed to. 

One thing that you think will always be familiar, however, is Poe. 

He looks relaxed. Sure of himself. Confident. You know better than to believe that the man never feels nervous or out of place like you’re feeling now, though he could’ve fooled you—he always seems so stoic, so sure, even when he has to fake it. 

But you know that he’s not faking it now. He really is just relaxed, taking the full opportunity of a night away from the Resistance and the Order to let himself be. The crowd doesn’t bother him, the burn of alcohol sliding down his throat isn’t as foreign to him. He looks as comfortable here as he does when he’s flying. 

And it’s hot. You have to fucking admit, you find it so hot. 

Maybe it’s the shot (two?) that he’s ordered for you, maybe it’s leftover adrenaline, you’re not sure. You think it could be because he’s just…hot. You’re allowed to objectify your boyfriend, right? It feels like you’re objectifying him. Oh Maker are you-

“How many shots is it going to take to loosen you up, baby?”

His voice shocks you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flash towards him and fuck, the way he’s looking at you-

“Are you trying to get me drunk, General?”

“Maybe.” He says it so nonchalantly, like he’s not doing something kind of questionable, something that should’ve been a red flag for you. 

But it’s Poe. You trust Poe. 

He clears his throat when you don’t answer and your attention is brought back to his infuriatingly handsome face. He’s always handsome, Gods he is so so good looking but the alcohol has you wanting to crawl into his lap and wrap your legs around his middle while he tangles a hand into the back of your hair and you wonder if you’d be able to taste traces of booze-

You had to have made a face. Had to have. Poe looks amused and he’s chuckling, watching you with that certain fondness in his stupid brown eyes that he only has for you. 

“Can we get a third?” Poe asks the bartender (so it was two) as they make their round. 

You laugh quietly under your breath, cheeks warming just a bit. “So you are trying to get me drunk.” 

“No baby,” he hums, easily slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. His body feels like it's on fire, he’s always so warm and inviting and sturdy. You’re able to release some of the tension that seems ever present in your body when he’s holding you. “I’m just tryin’ to get you to relax is all.”

“That so?” you hum, allowing your hand to inch its way under his shirt so you can gently touch the small of his back, craving skin to skin. He shivers. 

Poe only hums, his smile turning into more of a smirk as two shots are placed down in front of him. He slides yours across the bar towards you, raising the small glass to his lips just as you did, timing his shot so you take them together. You’re getting used to the burn, but it still causes you to pull a face. Poe however, looks completely unphased by the scorching liquid sliding down his throat. 

And he missed a drop. It’s rolling down his neck, mingling with leftover sweat and oh no, oh no. You want to catch it for him before it dries and turns his skin sticky. You want to lean forward and lick the column of his throat and relish in that sweet and salty taste on your tongue that could only belong to him, you want-

You let your thoughts run wild for a moment, and again you would probably feel bad about some of the things you’re thinking but he’s your boyfriend, it has to be okay. 

When that shot hits your bloodstream and that drop is still near his collarbone, you indulge in those not so innocent thoughts. 

You lean forward and grip the edge of his shirt gently, tugging it to the side, just enough to expose more of his collarbone to you. Poe watches with curious eyes and a tilt of his head, lips pursed, and he’s about to ask what you’re doing when your tongue hits his warm skin and his words dissolve into the quietest of moans. You gently lap at the spot, only soaking his skin further and when you finally give him a little bite, let your teeth graze against his skin, he loses it. 

He’s the first to pull away, keeping his hands on your waist, eyes dark and locked on yours. You glance at him, looking him up and down once, twice, and you don’t remember his pants being so tight when you’d walked into the bar. 

“What are you trying to do baby?” he husks, voice strangled, trying to control his desire and failing miserably. 

You shrug, trying to keep it innocent. “I was just trying to clean you up.”

His mouth falls slack, just a little, and his pupils are completely blown. He licks his lips and what should’ve been such a simple action isn’t. His wet tongue peeking out of his mouth, running along his bottom lip…you’re struggling to keep your composure, just like him. You still don’t have the upper hand.

And Poe notices. Oh, of course he notices. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking about honey.” 

He perches his elbow on the bar, tilting his head to the side as he regards you carefully, intent to hang onto your every word. 

But your words escape you. Completely escape you. He’s winning this game of cat and mouse and he knows it. 

He’s sure another round will get you talking, so he orders you each your fourth. You reach for the glass to throw it back but Poe stops you, easily plucking it from your fingers. 

“C’mere,” he purrs, leaving his own glass on the counter as he grabs your chin and forces your head back. You open your mouth without him needing to ask, without needing to even think about it really. 

It’s so interesting, how you obey him even when there’s no verbal command given. 

Poe brings the glass to your lips and slowly starts to tip it back, letting the stinging liquid flow down your throat slowly this time, prolonging the burn. Once you’ve finished the shot, Poe moves his grip from your jaw to the hair at the back of your neck and he pulls, bringing your lips crashing onto his. He smirks into it when your hands meet the tops of his thighs, and he thinks he’s finally going to get you into his lap so he can discreetly grind against your ass while you makeout at the bar. 

But you dig your nails into his skin instead, pausing again, holding still. 

He groans quietly in the back of his throat and pulls away, just enough for him to look into your eyes, the furrow between his brows prominent. 

You’re smiling, just a little bit, cheeks flushed and eyes a little wild. You lick your lips before you speak. “If we start this here I don’t think I’d be able to stop you from bending me over the counter in front of everyone.”

Poe tilts his head, as if he’s considering how right you actually are when the reality is, yeah, he knows he would. If he could get away with it, if he was on a planet where nobody knew his name, he would.

“So?” he asks, unable to keep the amusement off his face and the little bit of humor out of his tone. “You’re saying you don’t want everyone to watch you get split open on my cock?” 

You hit his chest, attempting to chastise him for his vulgar words but he’s said worse, and you don’t actually hate it. Poe just laughs because he knows as much. 

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he runs his hands up your thighs, fingers grabbing onto your hips. “Then why don’t we get out of here before that happens, hm?”

You don’t need him to ask twice. You’re just as eager to get him somewhere quiet and alone. 

Poe throws a handful of credits, enough to pay for your drinks and probably more, down on the counter before standing with you. He reaches for his last shot, still untouched on the counter in front of him, and throws it back. He doesn’t even flinch, again, and his hand immediately falls to your lower back as he starts to guide you through the busy bar. Nobody looks your way, nobody pays attention because this isn’t anything new. Poe’s only been going home with you for a long time now.

You’d already reserved quarters for the evening, knowing you wouldn’t want to fly back to base after getting hammered. The room isn’t anything fancy, but it’s clean and the bed is softer than anything you’ve laid on in years. Poe doesn’t even worry about taking off your clothes before he’s pushing you down onto it. 

He kisses you and somehow his lips are even more frantic than they had been at the bar only ten minutes before. He moans as he licks into your mouth, familiar and warm, bringing one hand up to cup your jaw and keep you still for him. You’re completely pliant underneath him while he kisses your breath away, letting him take the lead. 

His lips break away from yours though, sooner than you’d like, and you whine but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp gasp when he nips your collarbone. He closes his lips around your skin, sucking gently at first but then you can feel his teeth start to sink in. When he pulls back, he traces the small, red bruise with the tip of his finger.

“That’s for not letting everyone watch,” he teases gently, his smirk playful. “I thought it would be a good reminder, but this will have to do.” 

“Mm, I don’t think anyone really needs a reminder,” you chuckle. You can’t help but dissolve into a quiet laugh, but the sound is cut short when Poe kisses you again. 

This time, he doesn’t pull away. Not until you’re panting and writhing underneath him, lips glossy and swollen, eyes glazed. His cock is so hard in his pants, it’s a surprise the zipper didn’t bust. You rub your thighs together, trying to clench just right so you find some sort of relief. You’re both more than ready, just from a little kissing and what you’d call foreplay at the bar. 

You’re pretty sure Poe Dameron could look at you a certain way and you’d be ready, though. The thought makes you laugh again as he grabs your hips and easily flips you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up and back until your ass meets his clothed dick. He doesn’t ask you why you’re laughing, too preoccupied with tugging your pants down from your waist to your thighs, and just like before the sound is cut short again, replaced with a sharp gasp and a moan as his hand falls to your ass in a stinging slap. 

He smacks your ass a second time before you hear the soft clanking of metal, and you know he’s undoing his belt. You bite your lip in anticipation as you feel him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance, but he doesn’t push into you any further than that, not yet. He wants to hear you whine for it.

And you do. You whine and you moan quietly and try to push yourself back onto him, but he doesn’t let you. Poe sighs, feigning disappointment, and not a second later you feel his hand wrap around your neck and he’s pulling, pulling you up until your back meets his chest and his lips land at the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy. 

“So kriffing needy,” he hums as he finally slips all of the way inside of your tight body. “So warm, and so kriffing, kriff-” 

“I think you might be the needy one,” you whimper, turning your face to glance at him over your shoulder, except he never lets you, his fingers around your neck holding you effectively in place. 

Poe huffs, drawing his hips back before snapping them forward again, just once. Just to give you a taste. “I think you might want to hold onto something before I blow your back out.”

Except he never lets you do that either, not before he’s started a relentless pace against you, his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust and you wonder briefly if he actually could blow your back out like this. You wouldn’t be surprised. He’s almost brutal, the way he fucks you but it’s exactly how you want it. Rough, fast, heated. You want to be completely surrounded by him. 

“That’s it baby, just take it. Just take it.” 

He has one arm wrapped tightly around your middle to keep you upright and close while his hand that had previously been around your neck drifts down to the hem of your shirt. He tugs the fabric over your head with as little difficulty as he can manage, bra coming with it, pace never changing. He watches your tits bounce over your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind, fingers slipping down to play with your clit. 

Your eyes roll back as he plucks pleasure from your body with each little stroke of his fingers and the delicious drag of his cock inside of you. His moans in your ear shoot straight to your pussy each and every time, and you feel like you can’t breathe. He’s fucking you so thoroughly, so deeply you feel like you can feel him in your throat.

It’s quick, and it’s exactly how you need it. It’s not a night full of pleasure and cumming your brains out until you’re so cock drunk you can’t remember your own name, although you can’t seem to think of anything other than his. Or say anything for that matter.  

He rubs your clit faster, applying just a little more pressure as he angles his hips up, bullying that spot inside of you over and over again. 

“Kriff, baby, come on,” he moans, tongue swiping out to lick along your ear. “I’m gonna cum, I need you to cum too.” 

You’re so close. Right on the edge of falling into oblivion but you just can’t quite get there. A little cry escapes your throat, one that makes a growl tear from Poe’s. 

He collapses forward suddenly, caging you in under his body as he continues to rut himself into, chasing both his and your release like it’s the most important mission he’s ever completed. It’s then, once you are actually completely surrounded by him that you let go. 

You’re not sure if the sounds leaving your body are moans or screams or some combination of both. Your hearing fades and your vision turns stark white behind your eyelids. You’re not sure how long you stay there, suspended in absolute bliss before he lets you come down, slowly slowly slowly, fingers still playing with your clit as he finally stills inside of you. You can feel Poe’s warm cum leaking out around him and dripping down onto the mattress below.

His lips are still at your ear, and you let yourself focus on the sound of his breathing as you try to remember how to do so properly. You’re covered in sweat, but so is he, and your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much as usual. It’s so hard to move, and you don’t want to. You want to stay in this little bubble, trapped underneath him where all you have to do is lay there and take it like he tells you. 

You let yourself live in that little daydream as Poe settles on top of you, too tired himself to even pull out or roll over but you don’t mind. Not at all.

The war can wait.

[wizard-on-whales]

Imagine being someone close to James. I'm not talking about something quite like spouse but someone close. Maybe you both have known each other and been friends for years. You both feel so comfortable around each other and always go to one another when you just need someone to lean on. And yeah, maybe you both love each other in a way but you've always been too scared to do anything about it.

Maybe he invited you over for the evening to just hang out, have dinner watch a movie. At some point you fall asleep in the couch so he pulls a blanket up over you. When the movie is over he doesn't want to wake you up so he just scoops you into his arms and carries you to his bedroom, tucking you in. You've shared plenty of beds together over the years so it was nothing new. He crawls in next to you and scoots close but doesn't quite dare to place his arm around you.

Maybe it was after he had relapsed and realized he needed some help and support. He shows up at your door step, looking like a bit of a mess. You gladly open the door for him and pull him in. He didn't need to say anything, you just knew. You wrapped your arms around him and pull him down to your level, holding him close. Your nails gently scratch his back and you place a small kiss against his forehead. His body shakes lightly as he clings to you, letting out soft sobs.

Or when he injures himself in same way, your usually the one to baby him. After the pyro accident you spent a few months helping him put the burn cream over his arm because he was too scared to do it himself but he trusted you. Or when he's pulled something in his back you'll tell him to lay down so that you could rub it for him, easing some of the tension in his muscles. Or you just subconsciously picked up the habit of massaging his hands and forearms for him, knowing the get sore from frequent use from years of playing. And when he was a young drunk you couldn't count the amount of times you helped clean him up from throwing up on himself.

And of course he's returned the favor a few times, although you haven't hurt yourself nearly as much as he has. You were skiing together one time and you crashed into a tree, breaking your shoulder in the process. He had to help you get dressed and wash your hair until you had recovered. Thats when he had learned how to braid hair just to put it up for you. And another time you were standing at the stove cooking when you had accidentally burned yourself, he knew how painful that could be so even though it was one small burn on the side of your finger he babied you the rest of the night and finished cooking for you.

Sometimes he'll have trouble sleeping but he knows he can always rely on you. Maybe you went on tour with him and your room is just down the hall or you live just down the street so he'll make his way towards you and ask to lay down with you because he always sleeps better when your around, he says he feels safer that way. So he'll cuddle up under your sheets with your fingers running across his arm or through his hair, soothing him enough to quickly fall asleep. Or maybe your halfway across the world, but being on call with you for just a few moments would be enough to make him sleepy.

Or if his anxiety has been acting up, making his chest feel tight and his hands shakier than normal, you know all the ways to calm him down and make him feel better.

Maybe you two do eventually get together after years of denying being anything more than just friends. He might have been wedged under your car, fixing something on it for you when suddenly you hear him let out a string of curses. He wiggles out from under it and you see blood dripping down his arm. You pull him inside and to the bathroom, cleaning up the wound for him and making sure it didn't need stitches. His eyes stay on your face the entire time, trusting your hands enough to not care to watch them. You place the bandage over it before looking up at him, meeting his gaze. He smiles softly. You smile back. His hand comes up and cups your cheek, he's leaning in and you find yourself doing the same. You watch his eyes flutter shut, feel his warm breath against your face before his soft lips meet yours. It only lasted a few seconds but that was all it needed. He rests his forehead against yours and you both stand there in silence, holding each other like you always did, like you always would.

I love domestic looking photos of him.

[um-soybean]

Mammon and your Pact Marking

Summary: What does Mammon think about your pact marking predicament?

Warning: THIS IS A SEQUEL TO THIS‼️ Sorta darkish romance I guess. Pact marking PLACEMENT described. Branding, demon pacts, human mentioned like it’s an insult, reader takes shirt off (not in a gender specific way), mention of reader crying. Sorta fluffy but also in a possessive way idk how to describe it. Mammon is very guilty but also very greedy <3

Despite his protests, Mammon completely adores you. And also despite his protests, you are completely aware. He isn’t sadistic like Lucifer. He wants those he loves to be safe. He wants you safe. Preferably, maybe, probably in his bed or his arms at the very least.

As your first man, he was the first to see the colorful mark appear on your skin. And as his feelings grew for you so did the dark pit in his stomach grow every time he saw the pretty thing on your back. So did the glow of yellow in his eyes as he traced the pattern for the first time.

Of course at first, he was glad the mark didn’t show in such an obvious place. He couldn’t have a human bouncing around with such power over the Avatar of Greed. His reputation as the Great Mammon would be ruined!

Slowly but surely, inch by inch, he wanted to show it off more and more. Almost desperate to rip off the back of your shirt just to rub his marking off in anyone and everyone’s face. Of course, he wouldn’t...but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a genuine idea of his…

Along with him being your first man, his was also the first to burn. And it wasn’t difficult to trigger.

In all honesty, small amounts of greed are easy for humans. Whether you complained Asmo wore your clothes, or huffed when Satan took your favorite book. The marking doesn’t seem to care much about the excessive side of greed, only that you put material possessions over the demons you hold closest.

Mammon didn’t even take into account the fact that you could get hurt. Didn’t care much when he made the pact. How would he know anyways? He’s certainly never thought about giving such power to any human before.

But then your skin sizzles and burns. Warranting the stares of each brother to that golden mark behind your clothes, now burning red hot and straight through the fabric. Guilt surging through those who understood what was happening, because they could not warn you in time.

You couldn’t believe how much Mammon tore himself up about it. So much so you would’ve thought he had gotten burned.

It’s not long after that you both find yourself cuddled up, away from the prying eyes of his brothers. You’ve opted for no shirt, in order to cool off the burning on your back. He spoons you, just to gaze at the mark that’s settled right atop your spine. Like he’s the only thing grounding you to the bones you need most. Or like he’s the only thing, only one, you need most. And that bottomless pit surges up again as he realizes it’ll stay forever.

That no matter what, everyone will know that he’s yours. That you chose him first, not even thinking about the consequences, you picked his marking to decorate your pretty skin first.

No matter if you had to force him or not, don’t worry about that part.

Deep in thought, he traces the already silvery scar as he listens to your previously crying breaths drift off to sleep. Helpless to his own sin as he wants nothing more than for you to fall into it again.

He feels no greater satisfaction in being a source of your greed, than you being the source of his.

Notes: IM BAAACKK. For now at least just to post this. I will admit this has been in my drafts since the OG pact marking was posted (likely before Lucifer’s)… but I just knew the Mammon girlies had to be well taken care of. Partly because as much as I dislike to admit it, I fear I am also a Mammon girly…

[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

Left on Read

Pairing: Harry Lewis x Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, awkward tension, ghosting, unresolved feelings, dirty talk, resentment, angst, light enemies-to-lovers.

Summary: You hooked up once, then ghosted him the next day without a word. A year later, you’re hired as the Sidemen’s new social media coordinator. Surprise, bitch. The awkward tension is unbearable. Harry’s not the same since that night, and neither are you.

Word Count: ~2,500

Masterlist

It’s a surprise, really, that it took this long for you to end up here.

The Sidemen HQ. The most infamous collective of YouTube chaos. And you? Well, you’re their newest hire. Social media coordinator, of course, because they’re “growing.” You had the credentials, the connections — and hell, you needed the job. But, maybe more than that, you needed a change of scenery.

What you didn’t need was the heavy, suffocating tension the second you walked through the door. You should’ve known. You should’ve prepared for it.

You didn’t.

Your eyes catch him almost immediately — Harry Lewis. Leaning casually against a wall, earbuds in, scrolling through his phone, acting like he doesn’t see you. But you know he does. You can feel the weight of his gaze before you even register it.

Your heart stutters.

It’s been a year since that night.

The one where you let yourself go too far, where you let him pull you in without a second thought. And when the morning came, you’d run. You didn’t leave a text. No explanation. No apology. Just silence.

It was easier that way, or so you thought. Easier than dealing with whatever you were starting to feel for him. Easier than the aftermath of that night when you let yourself be weak and vulnerable. It wasn’t like you expected anything from him, but a small part of you had hoped he’d reach out.

But he didn’t.

And you didn’t either.

Now, a year later, you’re standing here, about to work with him. For him, even. And you can already feel the weight of that night pressing against you like a bruise that never quite healed.

He’s the first to speak, but only because he’s cornered. Ethan’s behind you, introducing you to the team, smiling and cheerful. But Harry? Harry is different. The air around him crackles with unspoken tension, the kind you’ve been trying to ignore since you stepped into this room.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he mutters under his breath. The words are low, almost drowned out by the noise of the room.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a sharp nod and turns his attention back to his phone. The tension thickens. It’s like you’re a stranger again, like that night never happened. You almost wish it hadn’t.

But it did.

And now you’re here. And so is he.

The first few days are unbearable. The team is easy to work with, for the most part, but Harry? Harry avoids you at all costs. He doesn’t speak to you unless it’s necessary for work, and even then, it’s clipped and distant.

It’s like he’s a stranger. Like nothing ever happened. But you can’t forget.

One night, you’re walking out of the office late, ready to call it a day when you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t turn around.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

You recognize his voice before you see him. Of course you do. You’ve spent more than enough time pretending it doesn’t echo in your mind.

“I work here now,” you say, your voice coming out colder than you intend. “Shouldn’t be surprising.”

He’s quiet for a beat too long, and when you finally turn to look at him, his face is unreadable. But his eyes — God, they still hold that edge, the one that left you breathless the night you ran.

“You ghosted me.”

The words are simple, direct, and yet they feel like a slap.

You feel your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t think he’d ever bring it up. You didn’t think he’d ever admit that he noticed.

But he did.

And you… you didn’t know how to react.

“I wasn’t ready for anything serious,” you mutter, hoping it comes off convincing, even to yourself. “I told you that.”

His gaze sharpens. “We didn’t talk. You didn’t even leave a message. You disappeared without a word.”

You can see it now — the hurt behind the anger. The way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes flicker with something dangerous.

“I couldn’t do it,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what it was between us, and it scared me.”

There’s silence between you two. He shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t break eye contact.

“You didn’t think it was worth talking about?” he asks, voice strained. “Didn’t think I deserved an explanation?”

The hurt in his voice cuts deep. You wish you could take it back, but the words are out now, and they’re hanging in the air between you like a weighted truth.

“I didn’t know what to say,” you reply softly, feeling the weight of the admission sink in. “It wasn’t supposed to be complicated, Harry. I didn’t want it to be.”

His eyes flicker, but instead of saying anything else, he turns and walks away.

The days drag on. Each time you catch his gaze, it’s like a cold punch to the gut. His silence is deafening, and every moment feels like a reminder of that night. You want to talk to him. You want to apologize. But you don’t. Because you’re scared. Scared that if you say anything, it’ll make everything worse.

But then, one night, it happens.

You’re both stuck late at the office, finishing up some last-minute work. The rest of the team has gone home, and it’s just the two of you. The awkward silence is almost suffocating. You can feel him watching you from across the room, his eyes heavy with something unspoken.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice small but determined. “For ghosting you. For leaving you like that.”

He looks up from his phone, eyes dark and unreadable. For a second, you think he’s going to brush it off. But then he pushes himself off the chair and stands up.

“You don’t get to just apologize and walk away,” he says, voice low. “You don’t get to do that.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. You’re too scared of what might come next.

But he doesn’t wait for you to speak. He steps forward, slow and deliberate, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him.

“You fucked me over, and I didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs. “But I’m still here. And I’m not letting you run from this again.”

Before you can say anything else, his lips crash against yours. Hard. Desperate.

The kiss is everything you’ve been avoiding — everything you’ve been denying. His hands are rough, tugging you closer, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to run anymore.

The tension between you explodes in a rush of need. His mouth is everywhere, and when his hands push your shirt up, you don’t stop him.

Not this time.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment, like he’s been aching for it.

When he finally pulls away, breathless and ragged, he looks at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You don’t get to walk away from me again,” he says, voice a low growl. “You hear me?”

You nod, heart racing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Harry’s gaze is steady on yours, his eyes dark, but there’s an unfamiliar tenderness in them now, softening the usual fire. He’s waiting, just like you, for the moment when all the anger and confusion will finally slip away, and only the raw, desperate need remains.

His hands move to your waist, fingertips brushing the fabric of your clothes. Slowly, deliberately, he undoes the buttons of your shirt, his breath catching as he exposes the skin beneath. There’s no rush, no frantic need to hurry — just a steady, simmering intensity as he takes his time, as if savoring every inch of you. His lips ghost over your skin, barely touching but sending shivers through your body, making your breath hitch.

When your shirt falls to the floor, Harry leans in closer, his lips trailing a path up your neck, biting down on the soft skin just below your ear. The sensation sends a spark of heat straight to your core, and you can’t help but gasp, fingers curling into the sheets as you tug him closer.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he breathes against your skin, his voice rough with the hunger he’s been hiding. “I’ve wanted you... all this time.”

The confession stirs something deep inside of you, the lingering ache of longing and regret mixing with the heat of the moment. You don’t know why it took so long for you to admit it to each other, but now, in this space, it feels like the only thing that matters.

Your hands find their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his head. The moment his bare skin is exposed, you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body responds to yours, both of you finally giving in to the desire that’s been building for so long.

He groans softly when you press your chest against his, the feeling of your bodies so close, so desperate, making everything feel like it’s spiraling. Your breath hitches as you feel the hard length of him against your thigh, and you can see the way his eyes darken at the contact, the way his grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you closer, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that is anything but gentle.

The kiss is bruising, urgent, like you both need to feel something, anything to break through the walls you’ve built. His hands are all over you now, roaming, exploring the curves of your body like he’s trying to make up for lost time. The way he touches you — with need, with longing, with a hint of desperation — leaves you breathless, overwhelmed, caught between the desire for more and the fear of what it might mean.

“Are you sure?” His voice is low, almost a growl, his lips just barely grazing yours. “Because once we do this, there’s no going back.”

You feel the weight of his words, but it only sharpens the craving that’s been building inside of you, that deep ache for him you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried.

“Yes,” you whisper, your hand finding its way to the buckle of his jeans. “I’m sure.”

With that, Harry finally gives in, his lips crashing to yours again as he unzips his jeans, kicking them off in a hasty motion. You can feel the hardness of him as his hands slip down to your hips, lifting you easily, guiding you to where you both need to be.

The moment he enters you, a soft gasp escapes your lips, and Harry groans low in his throat, his body shuddering from the intensity of it. His hands hold you firmly, but the way his eyes search yours — like he’s looking for something, something deeper than just physical release — makes your chest tighten.

He moves slowly at first, testing the waters, his rhythm steady and careful. But the deeper you fall into each other, the faster it becomes, the harder, until the tension between you is unbearable, and all you can do is hold onto each other, gasping for breath with every push and pull. Each movement is rough, a little desperate, as though you’re both trying to forget the hurt of the past, the silence, the walls that had kept you apart for so long.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Harry murmurs against your ear, his hands digging into your skin, pulling you closer, urging you to meet him with every thrust.

You cling to him, your nails scraping down his back as the pleasure builds, the connection between you both now undeniable. Every inch of him feels like a contradiction — too gentle and too rough all at once, both apologizing and demanding.

“I’ve missed this,” you confess, the words slipping from your mouth as your breath becomes ragged, your body tensing, every muscle screaming for release.

His pace falters for just a second, his grip tightening, his lips pressing against your neck. “I’ve missed you. All of you,” he says, and there’s something so raw, so vulnerable in his voice that it makes everything feel even more intense. You can feel the desperation in his movements, the raw need, as he finally lets go of everything — the guilt, the frustration, the fear.

And when you both finally reach the edge, the release is nothing short of explosive, your bodies shaking, your names falling from each other's lips like a final confession. Harry collapses on top of you, breathless, both of you trying to steady your racing hearts.

You lie there for a while, tangled up in each other, neither of you willing to move just yet. It’s not about the sex anymore. It’s about what’s been said without words, the connection that was always there, buried under layers of hurt, now finally laid bare.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, his voice soft against your ear. “For everything.”

[kittyminion]

through thick and thin sevika x f!reader

-after sevika's fight with vi, you find her on the edge of life and nurse her back to health -explicit 18+, fluff, hurt sevika, doctor reader, platonic relationship, not proofread

It was dark and wet. Piles of trash lining the alley and a certain muscular figure along with it, smalls groans of pain coming from her lips as she huffed.

The air was heavy and hard to breath and Sevika's brown skin was covered in collections of scarlet blood and dirt alike, while her eyes were poised to the sky, staring at the thick clouds of darkness while her life flashed through her mind.

Every moment that led up to her being the bastard she was today. But she couldn't help but be grateful for the odd silence—no skittering of rats or sounds of bones crunching, nor the drunk laughter that had made itself home here.

Sevika's eyes started clouding with darkness just as she heard light and cautious footsteps approaching her. A gentle hand touched her brow and made its way up to her forehead, muttering words she couldn't process.

"Multiple cuts, shimmer leaking from mech arm," said a feminine voice as your fingers ran down Sevika's body where they pressed against her side. "Fuck!" Sevika spat, weakly shoving you away, her eyes popping open at the sudden bout of pain.

"Get your fucking hands off of me." Sevika said weakly, attempting to push herself onto her feet, but she was quick to collapse again, but you were there to hold her up, an arm wrapped around Sevika's waist.

"Don't be stubborn, let me help you." You had trouble pulling Sevika along with you, her head lolled onto your shoulder while she clutched her mech arm, it half ripped off and leaking the iridescent glow of shimmer.

"I'm going to take you back to my apartment and patch you up, then you'll owe me." Sevika muttered incoherent words, but continued walking as best she could.

Once you finally made it up to your apartment and sat Sevika down on the couch, she passed out, mouth hanging open, blood still leaking from her body.

"I need to do this quick or she'll go into shock," you muttered to yourself, opening your closet to reveal the endless supply of medical supplies you had.

It was a given considered you were one of the best doctors in the Lanes, and people came to you knowing you'd help them without a heavy bill to pay afterwards like other doctors did.

Most of the people who came had bullet wounds, broken bones and of course were overdosing on shimmer, but you enjoyed your job nonetheless because you could help your people.

Grabbing a stack of gauze, alcohol, sutures and a needle. Her cuts were deep and oozing so much blood you weren't surprised at how lethargic she was.

Pulling Sevika onto her back, you cut her shirt loose from her body and started disinfecting the wounds, then followed up with sutures to stop the bleeding.

As the sun went down and your stomach started to grumble, you continued stitching her up. You applied ice to her ribs, pulled her shoulder back into place then finally started on her mech arm.

It looked irreparable, too mangled and scratched up for you to even considered fixing it, so as soon as you placed your hands at the base of it to remove it completely, Sevika awoke with a gasp, the air seeping into her lungs with a painful rasp.

Before you could blink, she had you pinned underneath her, a hidden knife in her pocket pressed to the delicate skin of her neck while her lips whispered against your ear.

"Who the fuck are you and where am I?" She said it with a groan and you did nothing but freeze, not wanting to risk the possibility of bleeding out.

Sevika coughed harshly, her grip loosening for a quick second before she ripped you onto your knees and stood up, the knife still pointing at you, while her eyes were squinting from the bright overhead light in your living room.

You raised your hands cautiously and stood up as slow as possible ad Sevika limped over to the front door but continued glaring at you, her inky black hair loose in its ponytail.

"I'm a doctor and you're in my apartment because I found you in the alley a block away. You were dying, bleeding out, and if I don't check your amputation sight you could risk infection."

You walked slowly towards her and Sevika stumbled a few feet, knocking into the table beside your door and she fell to her knees, the knife sliding across the floor with a loud clatter.

"I can never catch a break, you know?" She said with a cry of pain, ripping her mech arm from it's base and tossing it across the room. Once you stepped closer, reaching out to help her up, she stopped you with a single look, "don't think I trust you all of a sudden, besides, you could be lying about all of this."

You scoffed, "why would waste my supplies on you if I weren't a doctor. You aren't special you know, just a big block of muscle I decide to help because that's what I do!" You spat angrily, fed up with her attitude.

You sat on the couch and crossed your arms stubbornly watching Sevika roll onto her back, attempting to catch her breath.

It was silent as the two of you stared each other down, but eventually Sevika gave in with a heavy sigh and waved you over, "help me up."

You rolled your eyes at her demanding tone, but listened nonetheless, helping her over to the couch, then you disappeared into your bedroom and returned with a pair of clothes for her.

"Put these on while I go make you something to eat, then I'll examine your shoulder, and if you refuse, you might as well leave now, but I promise you won't make it out of the building."

"Such a smart ass you are."

It took you awhile to make a meal, considered you weren't much of a cook, but once you did, you returned to the living room and gave Sevika her food, then sat next to her, staring at the black television across from you.

"You have a reputation around here."

"Oh I know," she said with a poisonous chuckle, stuffing a spoonful of soup into her mouth without complaints, "but humor me—tell me exactly what you've heard."

"That you're Silco's bitch." Sevika froze, and her mouth screwed up into a nasty glare as you watched you continue to eat, your eyes glued to your bowl.

"Don't look at me like that because you know it's true, not to mention you turned on Vander, so of course that makes you taste sour in my mouth."

You couldn't hide the dislike for her in that moment and Sevika chuckled when she realized, "why did you save me then? Why put your life on the line to help the traitorous bitch?"

You shook your head weakly, "because I'm a doctor, and that means I can't watch someone die without trying to help first. So no matter who you were, you'd be here nonetheless."

𐙚

Sevika was shaking underneath your touch, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth pulled taunt as you examined her amputation sight, fingers pressing and prodding against her skin.

"Everything looks fine, but the skin is a bit inflamed so I'm going to apply ice and wrap it." Sevika nodded and leaned back against the couch, head lolling against it as she sighed.

"How long am I welcome?" She wondered, turning towards you, her cloudy gray eyes piercing and a bit intimidating, but you distracted yourself by picking at your fingernails.

"As long as you need."

Before you knew it, Sevika had fallen asleep and you went right after. You were exhausted from the long day, so that meant sleeping in your day clothes and on the couch right beside her.

When you woke up, the two of you were pressed tightly together. That caused you to flinch in surprise, and you accidentally elbowed Sevika in the ribs, then she groaned out in pain and cursed at you.

"God, I'm sorry! Let me get you some ice then I'll check your other wounds." Sevika gladly allowed you to work which surprised you as bit considering she was so on edge the day before. But maybe she finally realized that you were doing this purely out of the kindness in your heart.

After applying ice to her ribs, you examined her shoulder, "inflammation has reduced, and none of your stitches are infected, you still have a fever though."

"And how do you reduce a fever?" You sat next to her, "with time and water."

After breakfast, you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with Sevika about something other than politics and the past and you were surprised at how easily the conversation flowed, like the two of you had known each other your whole lives.

"First you start out with shots, three to be exact. That'll get you buzzed, so you'll feel confident enough for a beer. You continue with more shots and then you're properly drunk. You don't drink anything else or you'll have a terrible hangover."

Sevika rolled her eyes at your Type A personality, "do you always plan out your alcoholic drinks? Or are you just a weird, organized freak?" You flipped her off and rolled your eyes, "I just have it down pack. You on the other hand seem like a terrible drunk."

"No, I'm a perfect drunk. I don't talk too much, I have great conversations and I do get handsy like men do."

"I'm sure the women appreciate you for that. Are you hungry?" She nodded, then suddenly stood up, "I'll cook this time, since you're shit at it."

"Well let's see how good you are then."

Safe to say she was an amazing cook, and that left you lethargic and ready to sleep.

𐙚

"Alright, fevers all gone. No infections and no inflammation. Your ribs will be sore for a few weeks, but that's a given because they were fractured." You handed Sevika her clothes and walked with her to the front door.

"And if I get hurt again?" You chuckled and rolled your ryes, "then come back. Who did this to you anyway?"

"Violet Lanes. Heard of her? A 5'7", annoying, ball of fire with pink hair?"

"Of course I have. I'd steer clear of her if I were you."

Sevika shoved you playfully, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug, "thanks, for this by the way."

Before you could say anything more, she opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

"You're welcome."

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Training Part 2 -Blowjobs

The next part of the LADS smut series is up! This time it's just Caleb and Xavier training you to finally suck some cock <3 the other three will feature in the next chapter~

Consider joining if you'd like to read this and a lot more! My commissions are also open if you'd like me to write a story for you <3 Just shoot me a dm.

Anyway, here's a sneak peek! I do like this chapter a lot if I do say so myself~

"Keep going, baby." he pleaded, "I'm close."

"Already?" Xavier teased, "She barely started."

"Shut up. I'd like to see how long you last once you get a taste of her mouth."

You brought your head back to the poor man's cock, licking along his veins from the base, all the way to the tip. Now you were eager to get him to cum, wanting to finally feel the sensation of one of the men you love explode into your mouth. You sealed your lips around the tip, tongue running in circles over it as your hand pumped the shaft. You dug the point of your tongue into his slit and Caleb cursed so loudly it took you by surprise. With a giggle, you started to move down deeper before pulling back, making sure to keep your tongue flat on the underside of his dick as you gradually picked up the pace.

This was the first time you were bobbing your head on a cock that wasn't a toy and you were excited! You had dreamed of doing this everytime you were made to take the silicone down your throat, wanting nothing more but to be bobbing on their cocks instead-

But maybe they weren't lying when they said you needed to practice first.

Maybe it was because it was a real cock and maybe it was because his dick was bigger than the toy- but you whined in frustration as you failed to find a rhythm. Either you weren't sucking hard enough or you went too deep and gagged too violently that you had to pull away- or you forgot to move you hand while you sucked- You were way better at this when it was a dildo!

And you could tell Caleb was getting frustrated- not at you, of course- but because he was right on the edge of climaxing but he couldn't get there yet. Not with your sloppy technique.

You whined loudly, eyebrows furrowing and tears prickling your eyes as you pulled away. With an annoyed huff, you faceplanted against Caleb's bare thigh, hiding your expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Caleb asked, both he and Xavier leaning over you, worried. You tried not to cry, sniffling as you rested your cheek on his thigh muscle, looking up at them, "I'm sorry. I'm not able to- ah- it's tough."

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetie." Caleb cooed, "You just need a bit of practice, that's all. Do you want to continue?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Can you help her out?" Caleb then asked Xavier, the man gently patting your back.

"You don't want to do it?" the silver haired asked.

"I won't be able to hold myself back if I do. I don't wanna hurt her."

"Okay then. Come here, princess. Let me help you."

With one more sniffle, you sat back straight, Xavier moving his position so he was kneeling right behind you. You could feel his clothed hardness pressed against your ass but it wasn't the time for that now. You shivered as he thread his right hand through the locks of your hair, getting a good grip on you before he placed his left hand on the sofa, right beside Caleb.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded before once again, taking Caleb's still hard erection into your mouth. Xavier let you start off by yourself, watching as you took in a few inches before his grip on your hair tightened. You shivered as he started to gently move you, taking over the reins as he set up a gentle pace. Fuck. You were being used like a toy-

And you fucking loved it.

[polyphemusboo]

ghost fic to Nails by Call Me Karizma if possible? I linked the music video from YouTube to make it easier :p, have a good day/night!!!

cw: brief? smut. cannibalism as a metaphor for an 0rgy. a human s-crifice, sort of. a hearth and witches. the underworld (not Hell). the devil wears prada, but literally. simon’s a simp. established relationship. they’re freaks. reader spikes simon’s brownies (he’s aware). that mv + peek a boo by red velvet cuz yes.

simon ghost riley x gn!reader.

Death Becomes You

If your partner tells you they’re part of a coven and you don’t immediately think they’re the coolest, you’re lame. At least, that’s how Simon sees it.

Truly, he never really questioned it. If you have places to be, Simon’s nobody to ask you about it, because you’re capable of taking care of yourself. He doesn’t really mind the blood stains —that he ends up cleaning because you usually pass out pretty soon after arriving—, nor the weird scratches he can see on your arms when you sleep next to him. He knows that if you needed his help, you would just ask him. The scratches make him squint, however. Cheating’s never been in his mind, up until that point.

Simon decided to ask once, the morning after he saw those scratches the first time, but the deadpan look in your eyes, the arch of your eyebrow, made him apologize, cheeks warm. That night, he made sure to make you come as many times as possible, three fingers deep inside, mouth all over you until he could taste your forgiveness for the slip of his tongue. He knelt for hours, flipping you onto your back and stomach until you pushed him away, sensitive. He got a really nice, warm meal after that.

It’s not like it comes as an actual surprise, looking back.

Not a single bug in sight except for spiders you would refuse to let him kill, jars filled with sparkling, crystal water you would not let him touch, all those weird things that would happen around the house, and your baking. Your brownies make him so sleepy he often finds himself waking up on the table with half a bite still in his mouth, with you nowhere to be seen for hours. Simon just gulps down the bite of brownie and lays on the couch, watching a show until you’re back.

He’s surprised, though, when you suddenly stop baking. No cooking, no touching. Simon keeps himself busy, trying not to think of the inevitable; you’re losing feelings. It’s so painfully obvious, with you being extra nice, coming home directly after work and spending less time out, talking to him, but there’s… nothing. You barely even kiss him anymore.

And then, after a whole month, you sit him down on the bed. A month without your food, a month without you letting him go down on you —a month of misery. A month of nothing. Simon’s mind fills with desperate screams, thinking you’re leaving him. That’s it, he thinks as he sits in front of you, you’re finally leaving him and he’s back to being alone and without you. He probably did something wrong, and you don’t want to tell him because you don’t want to hurt him. 

Simon’s already begging in his mind, because you look so sad, so nervous, and he really can’t believe you’re gonna leave him just like—

“I’m a witch.”

He stares, waiting. 

For a hot moment, neither of you say anything. Simon’s lips purse, body shaking, and he can’t hold it back any longer when your shoulders slump further. “What… does that have to do with anything?”

“Huh?”

“You’re leaving me, and you’re telling me you’re a witch… Why, exactly?”

“I’m- leaving you?”

Simon springs up from the bed, pacing in front of you. He waves a hand around the room, choking down his tears of desperation. The walls seem ready to swallow him, to drown him. “Yes, of course you are. You don’t want to look at me, won’t let me hold you at night, and you even refused to hug me for the past few days. I don’t even understand why!”

He doesn’t realize you’re standing as well, lips trembling as you look at him, bright eyes warming at his reaction. Your lips curl up, amused. Simon’s too busy panicking to see the smile he’s missed oh so much, however.

“No brownies, even though those have been my favorite for the past three years, no cuddling, no kissing, no ‘good morning, sweetheart’. What did I do wrong?” 

“Simon.”

“No! You know what, I don’t even wanna hear it. It’s fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll just grab my stuff and I’ll leave.”

Simon’s not expecting you to push him to the bed, lungs collapsing when your mouth finds his. Deep in his mind, he’s sure you’re just giving him this one more time so he doesn’t leave with his heart entirely broken, but there’s no way he’s gonna stop you. He can taste the way you’re calling him an idiot, brainless and stupid. Simon eats it up, slurping your tongue, making sure you can feel him through your clothes when he grips your hips tightly. He doesn’t care. If this is his last chance, he’ll prove you he can stay. He’s worth it. He really is.

“I tell you I’m a witch, and you don’t even blink,” you grunt, fingers scratching on his skin when you remove his t-shirt. It’s hot, and he’s sweating buckets, but he doesn’t make a single move to pin you down. It you want it like this, you can have it. “Ridiculous. Did you even listen to me?”

“Why would I care?” Simon pants, fingers tugging on the soft fabric of your clothes. The skin to skin contact nearly makes him faint, and he’s not even inside of you yet.

“I’ve been spiking your brownies,” you confess in a hiss, leaning down to bite down on his neck. “It’s easier to leave when you’re asleep”. Your skin is burning, smooth yet sticky, and it keeps him in a trance. It’s clear you’re trying to warn him, maybe make him understand, but honestly…

“They’re good. Worth it.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Mhm.”

The thing is, of course he knows. Brownies shouldn’t make people so dizzy, so sleepy they pass out for hours; but you never hurt him, and he didn’t question it because why would he? He gets to eat good brownies, and gets to muffle his complaints when he’s fucking you with his tongue, so really, Simon wins.

He keeps winning when you’re still babbling against the bedsheets, cheek shiny with spit as your words mix with your whimpers, telling him all the things you’ve done behind his back, all the things you’ve done with the coven deep in the night. Simon’s cock is pounding so deep inside of you that he’s almost sure you’re fucking with him when you mention his boss, and that delicious meatloaf you made last year.

“What?” He grunts anyway, one of his hands pressing down on your back, making sure you’re bending just the way he knows you like. The reaction is immediate, if the way your toes curl is anything to go by.

“Mhm. Baked.”

Simon doesn’t even bother asking, accepting his fate, and leans down forward, his strong arm wrapping around your neck to keep you in place as picks up the pace. The slapping of skin against skin is loud and overwhelming enough that he can’t hear your confessions anymore, and Simon couldn’t care less, not when you’re falling apart under him. Your babbling becomes only that, mindless words and whimpers, eyes rolling back into your skull when Simon only pins you harder on the bed. 

It goes on, and on, and on.

The birds chirping outside remind Simon that neither of you slept tonight, but he’s too busy holding your legs on his shoulders to care. Your eyes are half-lidded, expression cock-drunk, and he wouldn’t have it any other way; you’ve come apart so many times tonight that he’s sure you’re never leaving. That’s really all he cares about, not losing you —and making sure you’re satisfied, really.

Only when you mumble at him to give you a break, does he gently shift away. Simon gives you some time to breathe as he grabs a warm, damp pillow to wipe you down with it, humming contently. A smirk slowly curls his lips up, making sure to press kisses down your heated skin, a happy feeling blooming in his chest.

“Come with me.” Your voice is soft and dreamy, and he’s once again reminded of how long he went without hearing you sound like that.

“Where?”

“Home.”

When the sun comes down again, Simon’s finally allowed to come with you. For three years, he never once thought of asking you where you went, didn’t even wonder if he could know, and now, you guide him deep into the forest, with only a candle in your hands. You’re wearing a deep purple cloak over thin, white clothes, but he’s wearing his usual hoodie and trousers. It makes him feel out of place, but you had insisted. “Trust the process”, you told him.

Simon’s not expecting the group of people smiling at him when you two finally reach a big hearth in the middle of a clearing. There are seven people, all of them standing around the fire with their backs against big trees; two of them are empty. It takes him a moment, but when his eyes focus he realizes they’re all naked. Lips parted, slightly confused, he turns to you, only to see that your cloak and clothes are also gone. He frowns, not fond of people looking at you this way, but your smile has him sighing.

They all introduce themselves, names that Simon somehow already knew just looking at their faces, but nobody really talks, their lips unmoving. He doesn’t blink when their soft hands get rid of his clothes, voices filling his mind as they tug on him, pulling him closer to the hearth. Your eyes find his whenever he feels a spark of doubt, giving him a cheeky smile.

Simon’s eyes fall shut when your lips find his, but it doesn’t stop there. Hands grip on him, tugging on his skin, feeling as it’s ripped from his body but it doesn’t hurt. It’s pleasant, and it’s warm. 

It’s hot.

He’s not sure he’s even been touched by so many people, let alone at the same time, but he can’t think. Wet lips and soft hands, teeth and warm skin burn on him. It burns, and burns. When his eyes blink open, they’re all in the middle of the hearth, teeth sinking deep in his skin as they bite, as they rip him apart. They leave nothing but his bones behind.

There’s no real pain, he realizes, and the pride in your face is enough to convince him he’s right where he’s supposed to be.

The fire roars, and the flames grow, eating all the trees away, eating the dark sky until there’s nothing but yellow light all around. It’s warm, and he feels at home, especially now that he can focus only on you.

A moment later, he’s himself again, bones and skin, and very much bare, but he’s not in the forest anymore. 

Everything is bright, and it feels like he should be melting, but the warmth it’s welcoming, comforting. A man is smiling at everyone, all the seven people around and at the two of you. He’s wearing a beautiful suit, slicked back blonde hair, and Simon swears he has a brooch with horns right above his heart.

“Welcome.”

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

im so sorry it took me so long. writing isn’t coming easy to me at all since last month but i got inspired again because of this! I had a lot of fun writing it, and the song is amazing so thank you. also, i promise i tried to keep it close to the actual mv, but i ended up taking inspiration from some of the scenes and the concept instead of the actual mv. I hope you didn't mind sm 🙏🏻

buy me a coffee

tags: @kittygonap @silas-aeiou