#he is so incredibly heart-shaped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hurlingdown · 29 days ago

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‎ ★ ❛ HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U ! ! ! ❜

synopsis. getting two sex-addicted hot demon bitches as your roommates wasn't exactly part of the contract, but they might just be the second best part of it. oh. and the best part? they are utterly, uncontrollably obsessed with you. wc. 5.3k

tags. top master! reader, bottom succubi! gojo & geto. reader has a cock. hardcore dom/sub. mean dom! reader, masochistic! gojo. threesome, womb tattoos, breeding kink, creampie(s), rimming, face-sitting, rough anal sex, multiple orgasms, riding, blowjob, male squirting, spanking, dacryphilia, somnophilia (slight dub-con), slut-shaming, degradation, praise kink, voyeurism, jealousy, felching, yandere! gojo undertones, aphrodisiacs, both of them are whiny, needy and hungry for your cock.

a/n. this might just be the filthiest thing i've ever written. do enjoy <3

In hindsight, you really, really should have known that your two roommates were promiscuous, sex-obsessed freaks before moving in with them. No, scratch that. You should have long known that they weren’t even entirely. . . human.

Not that they were exactly being subtle with it. Once, you had walked in on Satoru naked in the middle of ‘certain peculiar activities’ with his door half-open, wings, tail and dark pink womb tattoo on full display, stretching across the expanse of his lower abdomen in obscene heart-shaped swirls. You were taken aback at first, sure, but you weren’t mean with it, even offering to keep his identity a secret—and he had taken your politeness for something more.

Now, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. In point of fact, he flaunted it.

Satoru would curl his tail around your thigh playfully whenever he would walk past you in the house, stretching his horned fuchsia wings while shooting you a sultry over-the-shoulder glance whenever you were behind him, even purposefully wearing shirts a size too small around you so that the fabric would ride above his waist whenever he had to ‘stretch’ or reach for something—perfectly showing off his pretty womb tattoo.

It drove you insane with desire. And if that wasn’t bad enough for you, Satoru’s best friend, who also happened to be a succubus and your other roommate—Suguru, decided that the white-haired succubus accidentally outing himself was his cue to start courting you.

You didn’t even know that succubi courted. You supposed there was always a first for everything.

Suguru was far from being openly vulgar like Satoru was, but just as indicative of his wants. And that happened to be you. With long black hair, dark wings and a sharp, swift tail of the same colour, he was eerily gorgeous. He took his sweet time courting you, laying blooming red peonies all over your bed that worked as aphrodisiacs, spending his weekends making you wine-flavoured chocolates in the shape of hearts, hoping to get you drunk and all to himself. You would also constantly find missing pieces of clothing from the underwear section of your wardrobe, the distinctive mouth-watering scent of an aroused succubus left behind in their stead.

Satoru and Suguru were beautiful in a way that most things were—poisonous and addictive. You had told yourself that you wouldn’t get swayed by their honeyed façade and fall into their trap. You had told yourself, but. . .

The last thing you expected to wake up to was a wet, searing mouth on your hard cock.

You groaned, shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure wracked through your body in overwhelming waves, reaching out blindly to hold onto something before it consumed you—fingers digging into the sheets so hard you heard it rip. You couldn’t explain why or how it felt so good, the pleasure almost other-worldly—the sensation of an incredibly soft tongue licking up your length, dragging a trail of heat and drool on sensitive skin. The air smelt sweet, like roses and cherries, the sharp sting of arousal zipping up your spine as you took a deep whiff.

“D-does it feel good, master?” a voice panted, whined, “am I doing good for you?”

You looked down to find two teary, dilated blue eyes staring up at you, and two you knew very well. “Satoru,” you managed, fighting down a shiver as his hot breaths smothered your shaft with unbearable warmth. Everything felt fuzzy and smelt too sweet, like someone had sprayed intoxicating perfume in your bedroom a thousand times over. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He gripped your cock tighter with a pout, like he was worried that you would take away his favourite toy. “I just… I just thought I could make you f-feel better. Some de-stressing after a hard day, y’know?” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against your spit-soaked length, raised tail quivering behind him, shyly curling forward to show off the heart-shaped end of it.

You couldn’t help but look. Satoru was dressed in a satin white shrug shirt that fully exposed his plump chest while allowing his wings to stretch out prettily, and you followed the tempting curves of his toned torso down to where his womb tattoo was pulsing and glowing red, as though showing off that he was eager to be bred. He was wearing the sluttiest, tiniest pair of lingerie underwear that barely covered his ass, the cute bulge of his cock visible from the front, his weeping cockhead poking out, strapped to his stomach. His outfit gave you the perfect glimpse of his soft milky thighs, before the rest was obscured by cream lace stockings that hugged his legs perfectly, leaving you wanting more.

Sweet Lord. If this wasn’t heaven, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what heaven would be like.

The succubus trembled under your scrutinizing, squeezing his thighs together as though he wanted to hide the evidence of his arousal. “A-are you done looking?” he mumbled, glancing at you through his lashes. “Can I continue? Please, I’ve been so good and you know it.” You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate even more when his gaze returned to your erect cock, a line of drool running down his chin as his throat bobbed, as though he were imagining what it would feel like to swallow your cum.

“Hold on,” you breathed, carding your hand through his soft hair to gently stop him from getting closer to your crotch. “Does Suguru know about this?”

Satoru’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his pout fading into something more. . . wary. “No,” he said, quietly. “He doesn’t.”

“I’d thought so. Suguru wouldn’t—”

“Stop talking about Suguru,” he whined, like he was actually hurt over this. “Suguru’s not about to suck your cock.”

You frowned. And what gave him the right to sneak into your room and do blasphemous things to your body while you were sleeping, then? You tightened your grip on his hair, just enough to make him let out a low, pitiful whimper. “And you’re going to be the one to do it, then, Satoru?”

His eyes widened like a guilty child.

“I’m impressed,” you scorned, “You actually think you deserve it.”

Satoru bit his lip, as though he was turned on by your sudden change in behaviour. “I… Master, please. I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been asking for it for ages, I just couldn’t wait anymore—I needed you so bad. Please let me make it up to you. Please, please,” he stammered, hands grasping your knees and thighs in almost desperation while looking up at you with a forlorn expression.

You looked at him, steering your expression into something like a leer.

“You want to make it up to me? Is that so?” You pretended to think, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp, and he moaned softly, leaning into your touch. “Fine. Get on the bed.”

The succubus clambered onto the bed clumsily, settling on all fours as he looked at you over his shoulder with a deep flush, tail quivering with arousal. “L-like this?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you muttered, hands coming to rest on each of his asscheeks, kneading the flesh softly. Satoru whined, back pressing into an arch as he pushed his rump towards you, eager to please. “So, tell me, Satoru. I’m curious. What makes. . . a good slut?”

“S-someone who listens to orders,” he replied, obediently.

“That’s correct.” You whistled, hooking two fingers over the waistband of his underwear, slowly sliding it down to his knees until you completely exposed his leaking cock and hole, the latter clenching and dripping with… slick, like a pussy would. You went back to playing with his ass, ignoring it for the time being. “And does a good slut ever talk back to their master?”

“No,” he whimpered.

“What about,” you began, stroking his sensitive inner thighs, “taking what they want without permission?”

“No,” he repeated, biting back a whine as a slow sense of dread filled him. “That’s what… that’s what n-naughty sluts do.” The words sounded strangely obscene in his mouth, and he flushed, ears turning red.

“Very good,” you praised. “Last question, Satoru. You’ve answered every question perfectly so far—this one will be easy.” You flashed him a vicious smile, taking great pleasure in his ordeal. “Do you think naughty sluts deserve to be punished?”

The succubus shivered in both fear and anticipation, swallowing harshly. “Y-yes,” he whispered. “They do.”

Satoru didn’t even have time to beg for mercy because your hand fell hard on his ass, the force of it sending a loud smack echoing across the room, making him jerk forward with a pleasured cry.

The pain was electric, and so was the pleasure, a white-hot burn curling in his lower stomach as his cock gave a violent lurch—Satoru doesn’t think he has ever felt pleasure this good before in all his years of being a sex demon. You were a hard hitter too. The skin on his ass stung pleasantly, and he moaned out loud at the thought of you slapping his ass again and again until your handprint was burnt into his flesh, wanting more already.

“You really are a slut,” you whispered, almost in awe.

“Please,” he whined. He would take anything you were going to give him—praise or punishment. He was yours.

You gently massaged the bruised area on his ass, leaning down to give it a tender kiss. “Turn around for me, baby.” You opted for a softer tone, trying to coax him into letting you see his face after the harsh treatment. You couldn’t believe you ever thought that he was the danger here. Things were turning out in the most perfect way, you would believe it was a dream if not for how solid Satoru felt under your touch.

Satoru parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue—but quickly remembered your words. The pain was good, incredibly good, but it was also fleeting. If this was his first and last chance with you, then he would make the pleasure last.

He flipped over on his back, removing his underwear and quietly spreading his shaky legs for you. His cock gave a weak twitch as your gaze swept across his body with interest, letting a low whine.

“Good boy, Satoru,” you muttered, eyes zeroing in on the heart-shaped swirls of his pulsing womb tattoo. Admittedly, you had looked it up on the internet and found out all sorts of things about succubi, terms that ranged from ‘breeding’ and ‘fertility’ to ‘cum-addiction’, and you couldn’t wait to experiment them on him. “Gonna open you up now.”

You rubbed your fingers against his soft and wet entrance, slathering them in his slick, before starting to push two in, just to be mean. The succubus was already panting, mindlessly arching his back and pushing against your fingers. “Hah… Master… please, more…”

“More what? Tell me what you want, Satoru.”

Satoru let out a lewd cry as you rubbed at his sensitive walls, hips jerking. “P-Please!” he squeaked. “Want your cum… inside my womb.”

You could feel a sadistic smile pulling at your lips. So this was his true objective. To be bred like a cockslut—no, an animal. An animal bound by divine instruction to reproduce again and again and again, brainlessly offering up its holes to be filled with semen until its belly swells with the early stages of pregnancy. Perhaps the rumours about succubi on the internet were true, after all.

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted so easily, though. You weren’t that nice—he hasn’t earned it yet.

“Greedy,” you settled for a simple comment, leer morphing into something more innocent. You made sure to crook your fingers at a certain angle while pumping them in and out of his drooling hole, searching for the spot that made his toes curl and back arch, a filthy wail forcing his lips to part. “You sure you can handle that, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” Satoru moaned, “Breed me… please. Wanna carry master’s children.”

His womb tattoo glowed brighter, scorching hot underneath your touch. Satoru looked fucked out already and the night was still young, lidded eyes unfocused and glassy while he continued to grind down against your fingers, as though searching for something wider, thicker, deeper.

“Slut,” you snarled, and the word was barely fitting for how the succubus was acting. You pulled your fingers out, the emptiness making him ache. He gave a loud whine, his hips giving a desperate buck into the empty air, neglected cock red and hard, smearing pre-cum all over his womb tattoo.

“‘m your good slut,” he babbled, slurred for how drunk and stupid he sounded. You were sure anyone standing outside your bedroom would hear him with how loud he was being.

His mouth felt empty, you decided. A little too empty. You hooked a thumb into the stretchy side of his mouth before rubbing your fingers on his bottom lip, and he gave a soft keen, parting his lips for you to slide them inside, before lightly sucking on them—tasting his own juices.

“If you keep this up,” you warned, “Suguru will hear. You don’t want him hearing me making you scream, do you, Satoru? Or are you more of a pervert than I thought?”

“No,” he said, muffled by your fingers stuffing his mouth full, tears dribbling down his cheeks.

“Good sluts don’t talk with their mouth full,” you reminded him, gently brushing away his tears.

He shook his head quickly, whining. Satoru didn’t like to share, and you knew that. You were his bond, his human. You didn’t need another succubus. Right?

You bit down a smile at his blatant jealousy, pretending not to notice the presence right outside your room, the rustle of fabric unmistakable—barely covered by Satoru’s loud whimpers. It was a little too early to reveal it, with how both of them were enjoying themselves. You would indulge them a little longer.

You coated your fingers with his spit generously before pulling them out, a string of drool connecting the two, before reaching down and unceremoniously plugging them back into his needy hole. Satoru yelped, trying to snap his thighs shut at the sudden intrusion, and you took the opportunity to guide them to wrap around your waist. He flushed, stammering out an apology, but you wouldn’t miss this chance to tease him.

“Look at you, Satoru.” You continued to scissor him, occasionally pulling out to slather your cock with his sweet-smelling slick. “I haven’t even put it in yet, and here you are, drooling like we’ve been at it all night. Messy cockslut.”

“Your cockslut,” he whimpered, and it sharpened into a keen when you slowly drove forward to dip the head of your cock in his hole. It clenched around you greedily, and it felt incredible even with only the tip in, soft and wet and hungry, warmth oozing into you, making you burn with desire. What was even more incredible was the fact that Satoru was crying, tears spilling over red, flushed cheeks as he struggled to stay still for you, wanting to please, wanting forgiveness. “Hnngh… master…”

He was right. Satoru was your cockslut.

You leaned down to caress his wet cheek, the action only causing your cock to nudge deeper inside, the warm tightness nearly sending you into overdrive—making you moan. You had never been inside a hole this heavenly before. The snug stretch around your girth was insane, and if that wasn’t enough, his hole kept on fluttering and clenching around you, making delicious sensations bleed into you.

So the myths were true, after all—succubi were demons crafted for the sake of providing pleasure.

Your vision was growing hazy with lust, the heat in your belly growing. The pleasure was almost too much—but you held on. You would drain him before he drained you.

Grabbing him by the thick of his hips, you buried yourself to the hilt in one go, and Satoru let out a wrecked cry, fingers bunching up the sheets at the sudden stimulation. His womb tattoo sizzled and pulsed obscenely, and you reached down to gently press your palm against it, making him whimper loudly.

You didn’t know if you would be able to hold it in for much longer—with how the poor thing was squirming on your cock, sweet slick coating your cock with every thrust in and drive out, the carnal smell of it all making your appetite grow tenfold, making you want to strip him of all dignity and devour.

“Satoru,” you murmured, thrusting forward, and he answered with a keening wail of your name. “It seems like… we have a rather eager spectator. Should we invite him inside?”

“Wh-what…” Satoru said dumbly, whines interrupting his words as his eyes struggled to focus. “Spectator…?”

“Yeah.” You grinned as he realised who you were talking about, stiffening and shaking his head with a cry. He wanted to have you all to himself for a little longer… you haven’t even cum inside him yet. This wasn’t fair. “Let’s see if he’s just as much of a cock-hungry slut as you are, mm?”

You turned your head to the door. “Suguru. Come in.”

The door hesitantly creaked open, and Suguru stepped inside. Immediately, the sweetness of aroused succubi intensified in the room, a clash between Satoru’s sugary scent and Suguru’s honeyed one making you dizzy with want.

“Master,” Suguru swallowed, a red flush on his cheeks. He was dressed in a revealing dark purple night-robe, a ravishing complement to the long, black hair that cascaded down his shoulders. He looked at the two of you calmly, but you didn’t fail to notice the shine between his thighs, giving away how bothered he really was. “How long have you known?”

“Quite a while. Get on the bed and prepare yourself,” you ordered, turning back to the other succubus who was currently grinding himself senseless on your cock, little whines and pleas plucked out with each desperate roll of his hips. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with Satoru.”

Suguru listened obediently, laying down on the bed on his back, night robe gracefully falling open to reveal his purple womb tattoo, already throbbing and glowing with heat and need. He reached down between his parted thighs, rubbing and pleasuring his hole while watching the two of you, soaking the mattress with how much slick he was producing.

You turned back to Satoru, the sight of his red, crying face sending a jolt of heat straight into your abdomen. “What?” You grinned, gripping his waist and starting to thrust into his tight heat again. “I did warn you.”

“S-so mean,” he sobbed, arching his back at the pleasure. He was whimpering again, warm walls hugging your length firmly every time you drove in, and you could tell he was getting close again, had been close before you had so cruelly stopped to indulge someone else. Satoru turned his head to look at the other succubus, their simultaneous pants and whines serving to make each other even more aroused, Satoru’s slick drenching your cock while Suguru’s messily dribbled all over his hand, obscene squelching noises like heavenly music to your ears.

“Gonna cum,” you announced, and both of them answered you with needy, high-pitched whines, Suguru fingering himself to your thrusts while Satoru laid there, moaning and sobbing, reduced to nothing but a pliable body made to take and take and take.

The latter blinked up at you with glossy eyes, tears dotting on his lashes and crying out lewdly while you continued to pound into him like a rabid animal. Satoru loved it, how rough and careless you were treating him, your gentle hands telling a different story as they caressed his face, the contrast of pain and pleasure making him shiver. No one had been able to satisfy him like this before. You were perfect for him.

“Please… your cum…” he pleaded, laying a hand on his pulsating womb tattoo, begging for you to fulfil his only purpose in life—to be filled and bred like the dumb slut he was. “I w-want it inside…”

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, his warm hole sucking you deeper in with every flutter, every clench, showering you in waves of stimulation to the point where it teetered between pleasure and pain. Just when stars began to float across your vision in hazy swirls, a sign that you were close to orgasm, you pulled out hastily, ignoring Satoru’s desperate, keening sob, yanking Suguru towards you by the hips before roughly plunging your cock into his needy hole.

The startled moan that you pulled out from the other succubus was enough to drive you to the peak of your arousal, and you thrust a few more times before spilling into warm wetness with a loud, guttural groan.

When you came to be, there were two kinds of noises rebounding in the room—Satoru’s cries and Suguru’s whines.

“Master!” Satoru sobbed, bucking his hips into empty air as tears messily dripped down his face.

“M-master,” Suguru whimpered, drooling and panting, stuffed so full of cum and cock he could barely speak.

You moaned as you drew out from Suguru’s heat, watching as cum dribbled out from his puffy hole and onto the soaked mattress—and he let out a soft, needy whine, plugging two fingers inside himself to stop anything more from leaking out, as though to replace the fullness that he had felt before. You watched as he lay there shivering weakly, glowing womb tattoo tainted with streaks of white, and you realised that he had come just from you releasing inside him.

You swallowed, feeling your cock fill out again. Suguru really was a good slut. Perfect, even.

“Master…!” Satoru cried out again, gaze lingering on you and Suguru with an expression that could only be described as heartbroken, and you would feel sorry for him, if not for you catching sight of the softening cock resting against his heaving abdomen. The perverted thing had orgasmed from watching you cum inside someone else. If that wasn’t a sight.

“I never promised you anything, Satoru.” You looked down at the mess you had created, smiling innocently. “Plus, Suguru’s a far better slut than you are, don’t you think? After all, he waited patiently for his turn to be bred, unlike you.” You slumped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh, turning to Suguru and patting your lap. “Sit on my cock, baby.”

Suguru rubbed at his eyes, compliantly trudging over and straddling your waist, the length of your cock rubbing lewdly between his cheeks. He bit his lip, raising his hips until the tip of it nudged against his sore hole, the growing stretch more pleasurable than anything. Your cum turned out to be the perfect lubricant, and the intrusion was met with little resistance, allowing him to slowly sink down with a hungry whine.

“F-feels so goood,” he slurred, his eyes rolling back as you bottomed out, making the both of you moan. He mindlessly rubbed at his stomach, right above his womb, where you had gifted him a baby.

“See?” You looked at Satoru lazily, the poor thing watching in a mixture of arousal and frustration. “Suguru’s been so good for me. What have you done?”

Satoru wanted to cry again at your demeaning tone. This was too much. You were being so mean to him, when he was trying his best to atone for his wrongdoings! He didn’t deserve this treatment, not one bit. If Suguru gets a baby, then he should get one, too.

“I’m s-sorry,” he snivelled weakly. “Please, master… I promise I won’t ever misbehave again. I’ll be a good slut… I’ll do anything you want.”

You smiled. “Anything I want?”

He nodded, desperate.

“Sit on my face and I’ll think about it.”

Satoru wanted to protest, yank Suguru off your cock and ride it himself until you spurted heavy into his womb, showing you that he could please you just as much as the other succubus did, maybe even more. You were his, and naturally, your pleasure belonged to him as well. Suguru might be his best friend, but that didn’t mean Satoru liked to share his toys with him. But. . . if this was his last shot at gaining your forgiveness, then he would do whatever it takes to please you, even if it meant suppressing his needs for the time being.

He scrambled over to where you were lying, carefully placing one knee on each side of your face, trembling with effort as he slowly lowered himself onto your face. He let out a soft, whiny keen as his position pressed his hole directly against your parted lips, and he struggled not to rut against your face—holding himself back from chasing after the addictive pleasure.

You gently lifted him by the hips to breathe, before pressing a light kiss to the twitching hole. Licking around Satoru’s swollen rim in an attempt to loosen him up, you rolled your hips up into the welcoming warmth of the other succubus, jolting out an erotic moan.

“You can start riding me, Suguru,” you muttered, closing your eyes and letting out a drawn-out moan as he gave a filthy clench around your length at the mention of his name. “Don’t hold back.”

“Yes, master,” Suguru whined, rolling his hips against yours in smooth, circular motions, and you could feel the slick leaking out from his hole, smothering your length with the abundance of it, sweet and sleek and thick. The succubus rode you like he was made to do it, his cock slapping against his womb tattoo messily with every bounce, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure—letting out a stream of whimpers and pleas while his hole fluttered around you tirelessly, trying to get you to cum inside him a second time.

You returned to your task at hand—giving a broad lick over Satoru’s dripping hole to gather some of his slick on your tongue, making him sob out a whine. It was sweet and intoxicating, addictive flavour melting in your mouth like sugar, and you couldn’t get enough—shoving your entire tongue into him before eating him out in earnest.

And sweet lord, did he taste good. He was squeezing around you deliciously, releasing so much slick that it dripped all over your chin and down the column of your throat, making a mess. It drove you crazy. Before you knew it, you were making animalistic noises against his swollen entrance as you made love to it with your tongue, the vibrations making him croon with pleasure. And by now, you were sure that succubi slick had aphrodisiac effects, because with every mouthful that you swallowed, you found it harder and harder to control yourself, wanting to just give in to your arousal and take.

“Please,” Satoru was sobbing loudly, feeling wet and loose and dirty, thighs trembling with little restraint as you lifted him up and down your tongue with ease, reaching so deep one would think you were trying to plunder his soul. “Gonna… gonna cum already…”

“M-me too,” Suguru chimed in with a moan, hips growing wearier with every lift, his impending orgasm making him weak, the fullness of cock giving him the illusion of heaviness, and he held his belly as though he were pregnant already.

You continued to pleasure the both of them the best you could, tongue curling inside Satoru with precision to press against his sweet spot until he was shaking and whimpering with overstimulation—while rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s, feeling him needily clench around you every time you rammed up just right.

You could feel yourself getting closer as well, the noises that your two obscene lovers were making serving to turn you on even more. Combined with the sinful pressure of Satoru’s sopping hole clenching around your tongue and the searing tightness of Suguru jumping on your cock, this was practically heaven.

Reaching over to grip Suguru’s hips, you thrust up repeatedly into his tight warmth, leaving the other to ride your tongue on his own. You groaned your pleasure into Satoru’s hole, and the succubus answered with a keening cry of “Master!”, grinding down against your face with wild abandon. Both of their womb tattoos were glowing brighter than ever, screaming at you to breed them, take them, devour them—and you did just that.

You rammed your hips up with a muffled shout, gripping Suguru’s waist so tightly you were sure it would leave dark bruises for days to come—unloading everything into his womb for the second time tonight—your seed, your love, your legacy. Suguru cried out loudly at the feeling of your cum filling him up, shuddering as his cock squirted all over the three of you—his stomach, your chest, Satoru’s back—while Satoru clenched around your tongue so tightly as his orgasm crashed over him like a hurricane, cumming all over your face and the mattress with a hoarse scream.

You gasped for breath the moment Satoru slid off your face and collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, black spots swirling heavily in your vision—the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Succubi—no, your succubi really were something.

Suguru was too tired to even protest as your softening cock slid out from his sheath, dragging out a trail of slick and cum. Yawning, he shifted to lay on the bed on his stomach, mumbling “Thank you, master,” before his eyes drooped shut in exhaustion. You watched him fondly, reaching out to card a hand through his silky hair, before a soft, almost petulant whine caught your attention.

Satoru was glaring at the other succubus with jealousy. Sure, he had gotten a mind-blowing orgasm out of it, but he wanted you filling him up until he felt bloated with your cum, wanted to be bred.

You let out an amused laugh. “You want my cum that bad?”

He nodded his head frantically.

“Well, then…” You turned to where Suguru had fallen asleep, cum trickling out of his asshole and sliding down his perineum steadily. You guess it would be somewhat of a waste to just leave him be. “Since Suguru took your share for the night. . . there you go. Have a taste.”

Satoru’s face was slightly pale when you turned back to look at him, a sick grin stretching at your lips. He didn’t question you, however, quietly crawling over until he was kneeling between Suguru’s legs. His heart was pounding, your words earlier that night replaying in his head again and again like mantra—a good slut listens to orders.

Making eye contact with you, he poked his tongue out, slowly leaning down before giving the excess cum a tentative lick. . . and swallowed.

You were sure those were hearts exploding in his eyes.

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

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captn-duck-gremlin · 3 months ago

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Like it all started when you and some friends decided to do some urban exploration, visiting a broken abandoned military base. Now while there your friends are of course being dumb, touching things with bare hands, no face coverings to protect them from whatever harmful things could be in the air, respect for the possible dead is on floor level with them. You on the other hand, you got gloves, a face mask just in case, you're apologizing to anything you bump into. You did the research, this place went down from an unexpected attack, so there might be a corpse around somewhere (or lingering spirit). You give a short prayer to anything that looks like a corpse, regardless if you follow in those beliefs or now; you just want to be respectful to the dead. And yes, this place is haunted. Obviously. Now the important part, at one point or another 4 damned souls have clung to you. You dont notice at first, you barely feel that buzz that you're being watched. But the first unnatural thing to happen to you starts in a dream, a weirdly detailed dream. You're a housewife in the 50s. Cute summer dress, lovely home, nice street. But it feels too real, the patterns on the walls stay perfect no matter how long you stare at them, you can read lines from books you've never seen before, you look at your hands and they don't look distorted like they usually are in dreams. Then a man walks through your front door like he owns the place, you don't recognise him. At all. Yet he speaks to you in such a nice rough voice from his cigars, calling you such sweet things. Treating you like his wife. Then after what felt like hours from playing housewife you wake up, confused to hell and back. You brush it off until the next night, where you're sucked into another oddly very detailed dream, but its so different. From housewife in the 50s to maiden in the ye old times. The man is different, instead of tough, friendly bearded husband, you now have dark knight with skull markings. Helmet stays on at all times, but despite the rough and scary armour and vibe, he treats you like you're the finest silk, the sweetest flower, like you'll shatter if he so much as looks at you wrong. And after living through that you wake up once again incredibly confused. Is this what the backrooms feel like? You don't know, you don't want to know. Night rolls around once more which you dread and sure enough another weird dream with a new life. Now, at a farmland on the outskirts of an old styled town, you got chickens, goats, two cows, some ducks and a bulky husband with a silly mohawk. You don't know what year it is, what century you're at, at this point you're just rolling with it. Husband got a nice accent, Scottish you might think it is. He's absolutely spoiling you, treating you like a princess for no reason. Not like you're complaining. After that dream, you wake up contemplating that you might be losing your mind. But no, you're just being haunted by demons who like spending time with you through your dreams. Moving on. 4th weird dream, this feels further up into recent years, maybe 2000s. Cute husband, looks like a sweetheart, is a sweetheart. His skin is darker from the other ones, but not like you could tell with Sir Skull and Bones. He has a smooth voice, could probably sweet talk a bear. Time with him was almost too sweet. You swore his pupils nearly went heart shaped when he looks at you. And like the rest of them, you wake up confused. And thats just how your nights go, things in the day go.. strangely.

Oh and quick reminder, don't run from them.

#141 x reader #demon!141 x reader #task force x reader #tf 141 #call of duty #cod mw2 #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick

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gladiatorcunt · 8 months ago

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🍒🍦 ⸺ ᳂ cherry vanilla dr. pepper !!!

cw: afab reader, voyeurism, tashi and you make out while you get pounded, weird amalgamation of dehumanization/objectification/pet play, subby!art coded, spit roasting at the end, slight overstimulation, bizarre orgy vibes, mean dom!tashi to everyone but you <3, implied breeding/creampie kink, canon typical mind games, tashi sits in the cuck chair /j, implied romantic feelings but no mention of established romantic relationships, slight mxm, clit stimulation, one use of “mommy”

happy challengers day 🎾💚

consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !

“Round 4 will be the last one, alright? Get ready, baby.”

You take deep breaths, clutching onto Patrick’s wrist. You lock eyes with Tashi, feeling syrupy sweet deep in your gut. She grins and unbuttons the top buttons of her shirt, leaving you three to your own devices for now.

The stretch of Patrick’s cock stings and burns a little but Art nipping at your hip bones helps distract you. Patrick pants against the nape of your neck, you feel so divinely tight he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

He keeps his voice low so Tashi can’t hear him, “Fuck-you feel incredible, i’d kill for this pussy, you know that.”

“Hook your arm around their neck, good boy.” Tashi instructs Patrick, leaning back in the hotel chair and palming her pussy at the sight in front of her.

“Yes, ma’am.” He swiftly calls back, acting like he hadn’t said anything to you at all.

Patrick has you in a headlock, pummeling his cock in and out of your pussy with reckless abandon. Art is beneath the two of you, suckling on your clit like it’s a nipple he’s trying to get milk out of. He licks where you’re stretched around Patrick, drawing groans from you both and a chuckle from Tashi.

“Be a good dog and lap them up, okay? I’d hate to have to take away your toy privileges.” She sneers, sliding her damp underwear to the side and stroking her slit.

The “toy” in the equation isn't you.

You’re dead to the world, eyes bulging out of their sockets and nails trying to rip the white sheet to shreds. Your head and tits rock back and forth with Patrick’s thrusts, already on the brink of your fourth orgasm. You try to scream that you can’t take anymore, but you wanna make Tashi proud so you shut up.

“ ‘s so good…” Art hums into your mound, pecking little kisses onto it here and there.

His sounds are muffled but the vibrations send your eyes to the back of your head. The chair in the corner of the room creaks as Tashi gets up, and the second you lift your head and open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you with all the warmth she doesn’t give the men pleasing you. This isn’t about them, it never was.

“Patrick’s so big, Tashi-he’s unggggh-he’s gonna kill me!” You whine, desperately pawing at her clothed breasts.

She coos and pulls her blouse up, bringing your hands to cup her tits and keeping them there, “Baby you know he’s not, this pussy can take a beating. I’d only give you the best toys.”

You nod wordlessly, pouting your lips. She gets the message and claims your lips in a searing kiss, luxuriating in the slick slide of your lips. She loves to make it messy, getting spit all over your mouths and letting it drip on the bed.

Art mewls and flicks your clit, trying to get your attention. You feel bad and try to pull away from Tashi, but she yanks you back into the kiss and bites your lip as a punishment. You hiccup into her mouth, startled when Patrick starts jackhammering into you.

Tashi typically has them alternate, but Art prefere to bury his face between your thighs and Patricks likes to play with fire by cumming inside your sore cunt. He doesn’t speak as much as Art does, but sometimes he holds Tashi stare as you two make out. They’ll have to retire from Tashi’s “employment” eventually, and they’ll be taking you with them when they do. All games of keep away end.

Patrick traces letters and shapes on the glistening skin of your sweaty back, sloppy hearts and ‘ I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U ‘ s.

You gasp and wrench yourself back to breathe. Art flattens his tongue and licks broad stripes over your labia. He nuzzles his nose into you, stopping to pant and take in your smell. He may be delusional, but he’s convinced that every part of you is so sweet. He honest to God can’t get enough, he’d lie in a puddle at your feet if you wanted him too.

Sometimes you feel torn when you fall into bed with your lovers. You’re too soft to be like Tashi, but that exact softness is exactly why you can’t handle being away from her for too long. Maybe you’ve fallen under her spell just like all the rest, but she puts her career on the line to prove how special you are.

Patrick pulls you up to rest your back against your chest. You let your head fall onto his shoulder and you moan when he adjusts the angle of his thrusts to rub against your cervix repeatedly. He wasn’t like this when the evening started, Patrick only roughens you up when you’ve been thoroughly run through and can take it with a dopey smile and glazed eyes.

“Keep going, it’s okay- want it-want you.” You cry out to Patrick, reaching down to caress his hip.

He smiles and licks your cheek, complying with your request.

Art grins up at you with his eyes, mouthing ‘That’s my angel, only for us.’ into the flesh of your inner thigh. He moves to Patrick balls and takes them into his mouth, bobbing them up and down with his tongue. Patrick moans as Art laves his balls in saliva. Art lets them fall out of his mouth, curling his tongue around the inches peeking out of your pussy and hollowing his cheeks out.

“Shit! Stop, ‘m gonna cum!” Patrick hisses through his teeth.

He either empties another load into you or he just refuses to cum if your pussy’s not available, period.

“They’re so hungry for it, aren’t they? Well, can he? Can our dog cum inside you, baby?” Tashi tsks, cupping your cheeks and bringing your attention back to her.

“Yes, yes, yes! He can cum inside-please let him cum inside mommy-i need it so bad-wanna be stuffed full with it!” You whimper and arch your back, jutting your tits out.

Tashi laughs and leans down to suck one of your pert nipples into her mouth, bouncing your other breast in her hand. Tears spill from your waterline down to her freshly manicured nails. Art has since gone back to sucking the life out of your clit, and the little wink he sends you doesn’t help you hold back your impending orgasm.

Patrick thrusts a few more times and then you’re cumming in sync. You go brain dead and your body locks up in his arms. You’re out of it for a good few minutes, and when you have full awareness again you see Art kneeling in front of you. He holds his dick out for you to gawk at, slowly pumping himself for your amusement.

Patrick hasn’t pulled out of your pussy but he doesn’t fuck you again, he jostles his hips to find the most comfortable position for his softening cock to plug you up.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He huffs and pushes you back down on all fours.

“You need your mouth taken care of too.” Art whines and squeezes his cock around the base, beckoning you closer with a ‘come hither’ gesture.

Said man is tenderly and carefully bundling up your hair in his arm and casting it aside, giving him ample space on your back to pet. He rubs the pink tip of his cock along your jawline, he gives you a fresh coat of lip gloss via his precum as he slaps your plump lips with his cockhead.

“It’s kinda like sucking off a dildo attached to a mirror, don’t think too hard about it.” Tashi tells you, crouching down to suck the small divot in your back.

She sits back in the cheap black hotel chair, shrugging her blouse off and pinching her nipples.

You moan at the first taste of Art’s cock, longer than Patrick’s but with less heft to it. You peer out of the corner of your eye to see if Tashi’s still watching, and you feel silly when you realize that she always is.

“Doing good, baby, keep it up.”

But that’s the thing, they’re all watching you now. It’s not hard to be a pathetic bottom that needs to be coddled and tended to at all times. It’s never difficult to stroke the fire in someone’s ego, you’ve had an easier job of that than anything else.

You saw them all together on the court, you were there for lessons that didn’t work out. Who knows how long ago, it feels like a lifetime, but all it took was one look to recognize what was destined to be yours. You couldn’t give less of a fuck about Tennis in actuality, but you sure do love the players.

They all have hearts in their eyes as they watch you. Art with his dick deep down your throat, his legs are trembling as he tries to stop himself from fucking your face. Patrick, still making a forever home for himself in your guts, his eyes are so dark you have to repress a shiver. And Tashi, knuckles deep in her pussy, finger fucking herself to the pretty little show her baby puts on with their toys.

When the boys are asleep, you’ll bounce on her ribbed strap until you shatter all over again.

Now, Is it cheating to win a game when people don’t realize that you're playing?

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

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snowballseal · 4 months ago

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Sleepy Affection

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You're tired. Sylus is the best cuddle partner. Lots of soft love here. That's it.

Word Count: 1061

Note: Self indulgent really, I have a hard time with burnout and sleeping in general, but I know cuddling with this man would solve all of that. Sorry if I overused adjectives.

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Days as a hunter are long. It’s a part of the job, always being alert, always willing to help when the need arises. And you love it. You love being awake before the sun rises, and the exhaustion in your limbs as you walk home. It satisfies the restlessness in your bones.

But still, it’s hard to not hit burnout eventually.

You can feel it weighing down your body as you step out of headquarters. The sun is just rising over Linkon, and you narrow your eyes up at the sky. Of course you worked through the night. It was that or let your paperwork drag into your weekend. Maybe not the best decision. You sigh, rolling your shoulders. Every muscle in your body aches for sleep.

You don’t want to go home, though. It would be too quiet, too empty. If anything, you would probably end up staring at your ceiling, impossibly restless despite how tired you are. And that sounds absolutely awful.

Before you can think too hard about it, your feet are carrying you towards the transit center. To the one place where you feel safe, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t.

---

The N109 Zone is strangely quiet in the early morning gloom. The streets are nearly empty, the only sound coming from the electric buzz of the overhead wires and the snuffling of a stray dog on the corner. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if being a criminal makes you allergic to the day. Or maybe they’re all vampires. An amused hum dances past your lips at the thought. Perhaps they’re not after the aether core in your heart, but your blood.

One man seems to be at least.

By the time you reach Sylus’ place, it feels like you're walking through a light fog. Or stepping into a dream. The home greets you with a pleasant warmth that eases the tension in your muscles. Music drifts through the halls, distant and fuzzy with that old quality that vinyl has. Like a siren song, it draws you deeper into the dark comfort of the manor.

Right to your sleeping dragon.

Even while he’s sleeping, Sylus looks…dignified. Ethereal even. The soft light peaking through his curtains casts a glow on his features, dancing across his white lashes, making them almost look like snowflakes. Your eyes trail over the relaxed line of his jaw, the contours of his chest and shoulders. He lies so still, you could almost believe he’s a statue, if not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He just looks so…perfect.

It’s hard to believe that this is Onychinus’ feared leader.

Toeing off your boots, you tread carefully to the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, the sheets soft and silky under your fingers. Sylus lets out a low sigh at the movement, red eyes flickering open ever so slightly before falling back shut. Without a word, he shifts and lifts the sheets for you to crawl in next to him.

His warmth draws you in, just like his wispy, old music. You can’t resist it, not that you want to. It’s all the invitation you need to tuck yourself as close as possible, like an exhausted little kitten looking for a safe place to sleep. Sylus immediately draws your leg over his hip, long fingers kneading lazily at your thigh. Every part of you presses against his addicting warmth, drawing a content hum from your lips, completely pliant under his touch. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t complain. But there’s an almost reverent feeling to the way he holds you, the way he traces shapes along your skin and presses gingerly into your wound up muscles.

It’s a rare moment of pure gentleness. No teasing quips. No haughty smirk. Just you and Sylus, the air between you thick with something so incredibly tender. You stay like that for what feels like forever, time lost to soft touches and quiet sighs. Neither of you are willing to break whatever spell has fallen over the room.

Soon enough, though, the weight of your eyelids becomes too difficult to fight. You tuck your face into the curve of his throat, the scent of his cologne washing over your senses. It’s spicy and warm, like worn leather and rum, just so perfectly Sylus.

You wish you could stay like this forever, floating pleasantly on the edge of sleep with him. Just with him. An indescribable fondness curls somewhere deep in your chest.

“I missed you,” you admit into the crook of his neck, your voice thick with sleep and something vulnerable.

“Mmmm, I was wondering why you crawled into my bed in the middle of the morning.”

He wasn’t, really. You both feel it whenever you can’t see each other for too long. It’s like the worst feeling of homesickness. He won’t admit to it, but you can feel it in the way his arms curl possessively around your waist, like he never wants to let you go. You slide a hand up to his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his heart under your palm. You’ve missed this. Sylus shivers at your teasing touch, those red eyes finally flickering open again to look down at you, half-lidded and unfocused. You hold his gaze, trying to memorize every detail, every fleck of color, the dark gleam of fondness in their depths, matching your own. This is the real Sylus. Gentle and kind, passion burning just below the surface. The one only you get to see. And you love him more than you’ll ever be able to explain.

You curl your arms around his narrow waist, forehead pressing against his chest, “Is it okay that I came?”

You already know the answer. Still, Sylus humors you.

“I would have it no other way,” he rumbles lowly, lips brushing against your hair. “Now rest, sweetheart, I can tell how tired you are. We can talk in the evening.”

You hum, eyes finally falling shut, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

And just like that, you find it impossible to stay awake any longer, lulled by his words and the sound of his breathing. Every nerve, every worry, washes away, leaving you to fall into the darkness you’ve been craving, dreaming of the weekend you can spend together.

---

Honestly took so long to write. I wanted to moment to feel soft and more drawn out, don't know if it worked. But I hope y'all liked it :)

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace reader insert #reader insert #x reader #lads sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #burnout #fluff

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dollishmehrayan · 20 days ago

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BATBOYS TOXIC TRAITS / RED FLAGS + GREEN FLAGS ── .✦

a/n: the thing is, they all aren’t like problematic when it comes to relationships but they do have some things and flaws which when heard sound “oh okay that’s fine” but may be like super annoying in a irl relationship also this was a request by anon (here)! (Tags: batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Chronic People-Pleaser: Will prioritize everyone’s needs over his own (or yours), leading to burnout… and you having to remind him you exist.

Flirty by Nature: He’s not trying to flirt… it just happens. That waitress? Nope, not on purpose, but yeah, you’ll roll your eyes a lot.

Hero Complex: He always has to “save” people, including you, even when you’re perfectly fine handling it yourself. “I got it, babe.” No, you don’t, Dick.

GREEN FLAGS:

Emotionally Intelligent: He can read your mood like a book and knows exactly how to make you smile (with pancakes shaped like hearts).

Physical Affection Expert: Hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses—you’re basically his personal teddy bear.

Supportive King: He’s your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up in the most genuine, heartfelt ways. “That’s my girl.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Anger Issues: He’ll throw hands for you at the slightest provocation. Guy looks at you wrong? Jason’s already removing his jacket.

Emotionally Guarded: Good luck getting him to open up. He’s more likely to tell you his deepest fears after you’ve fallen asleep.

Reckless Behavior: He’ll drag you into the most insane situations and act like it’s no big deal. “What do you mean this is dangerous? It’s fine.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Loyal to a Fault: He’ll defend you with his life, no questions asked. “You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Soft Romantic: Beneath the tough exterior, he’s writing you sweet notes and remembering the little things, like how you take your coffee.

Protective (in a good way): He won’t smother you, but he’ll make sure you always feel safe, even if it’s just crossing the street.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Workaholic: He’ll forget to eat, sleep, and sometimes text you back because “the case was just getting good!”

Overthinks Everything: Spends hours analyzing your last text to figure out if you were mad or just tired. “Was that period passive-aggressive?”

Terrible Self-Care: You’ll have to force him to drink water and go to bed like a mom with a rebellious child.

GREEN FLAGS:

Incredibly Thoughtful: He remembers every detail about you, from your favorite flower to that obscure hobby you mentioned once.

Adorably Awkward: His shy smiles and fumbling over words when you flirt back are endlessly endearing.

Problem Solver: He’ll find solutions to all your problems, from fixing your computer to making your bad day better with tea and soft music.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Insanely Jealous: He glares daggers at anyone who looks at you too long. “Why is he breathing near you?”

Judgmental: He might critique your taste in music, books, or anything else with his usual bluntness. “This… is what you listen to?”

Control Freak: He likes things done a certain way and will try to “help” you by micromanaging your life.

GREEN FLAGS:

Devoted Partner: Once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll never doubt his commitment because he’s always showing up for you.

Loyal Beyond Measure: He’ll defend your honor to anyone, even Bruce. “She’s perfect, Father. You simply lack taste.”

Surprisingly Gentle: Despite his tough exterior, he has a soft side that only you get to see, like the way he pets animals—or you—so tenderly.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Emotionally Repressed: He’s basically a human brick wall when it comes to expressing his feelings. “I’m… fine.” No, Bruce, you’re not.

Work Comes First: He’ll disappear into the Batcave for days unless you drag him out by the cape which becomes quickly annoying.

Overprotective: He’ll want to track your every move, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he worries too much. “It’s for your safety.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Quietly Romantic: He may not be overly expressive, but he’ll show love through subtle gestures—like a bouquet of your favorite flowers left on the table.

Ultimate Provider: He makes sure you never want for anything, whether it’s emotional support or physical comfort.

Unshakable Devotion: Once you’ve captured his heart, he’s yours forever. There’s no halfway with Bruce—he’s in it for the long haul.

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catcatb0y · 1 year ago

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No, but fr it's so hard growing up chronically unloved and romantacizing every little thing because it's the only way to feel scraps of affection, and then getting to the point where you undoubtedly realize you were obsessing over grains of salt. Realizing I'm the only one who cares about these things is so draining lol.

#local baby cries because he's not special #sksksks the dumbest part is knowing that it's stupid #but still getting upset over it #It'a heart shaped can't you see I love you?#this made me think of you I love you #I want to be with you I love you #...#what do you mean that moment didn't mean much to you?#what do you mean that made you think of someone else?#what do you mean you're spending time with someone else?#I am so fully aware that this all sounds incredibly stupid #it's toddler shit #you played the game that I wanted to play with you but with someone else I guess you hate me now!!#you shared your toys with someone else when I only share my toys with you??#you played HOUSE while I was GONE??#what do you MEAN this rock I found on the ground is 'cool.' it literally has sparkly flecks

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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tf 141 with a reader who loves jewelry >>

It’s not a particularly visible obsession; all your boys know is that they’ve never seen you without jewelry. Be it pretty, delicate earrings, a lovely necklace that rests in between your cleavage, or a gleaming set of rings and bracelets. They are eye-catching, on occasions, and other times they blend so nicely into whatever outfit you have adorned yourself with.

They don’t realize it, they don’t make the connection until you’ve invited them into your house, and then you are leading them deep, deep into the basement until they are in front of a closed room. The entire thing is suspicious, honestly alarming because Ghost did so much research into you but never knew anything about this- but you look so nervous and hopeful, emotions bared.

They aren’t prepared to enter a room stuffed full of jewelry. A room practically glittering, gleaming like you’ve brought yourself a corner of the starry universe. Rows upon rows, cabinets and closed glass cases. And then you are smiling, stepping into the room and urging them in.

“I… I’ve always loved jewelry,” you clear your throat, voice soft and hushed. You look around, an unmistakable look of fondness and happiness in your eyes. “Necklaces, earrings.. anything that can be put on the body to adorn it more than clothes could. Ever since I was a child, I was, well, obsessed with collecting them. I love collecting them, and every piece here is precious to me.”

Your cheeks turn pink, and you look away from their gazes. “…but you are more precious to me, and I trust all of you. Which is why I feel happy, showing this part of me to you. And…”

You grin now, opening a cabinet with a simple key you put away to pull out four jewelry boxes. “-And that is why I got these!”

You open the first box, showing John a beautiful necklace that holds a single garnet shaped into a delicate teardrop. Garnet, for his birthstone. John, John, John- a man who will always have your heart. John, who treats you like a jewel even more delicate than the one in your hands. You’ve never had anyone hold you quite as he does, so full of love.

The second box is for Soap, for your Johnny. A dangling pair of earrings that would brush across your skin should you wear them, almost as sweetly as his kisses across your body. A stormy blue, much like his eyes.

Third box is bigger- the biggest. This one, you had custom-made. Not cheap at all, but worth every single dollar. Made entirely out of diamonds, the shoulder pieces would drape so elegantly across your shoulders and dangle off your back, like a never-ending embrace. Your most expensive piece to this day, and yet you would so easily swear that it did not compare to Gaz’s beauty anyways. It was based on him, on how you looked at him, on the sheer love you felt for and from him.

The last piece is a necklace. It curls around your neck not like a collar, but like a hissy cat seeking warmth. Three rows of pearls, shiny and pretty, and in the middle sits a round red jasper. You don’t remember when it had been, but you’d read that red jasper meant courage, preseverance, and healing. Perfect for your brave, incredible Si, whom you’ll always admire and adore.

But in your enthusiasm of describing how and why you chose each piece, you are blind to the way they look at you:

In a room full of gems, jewels and stars, you shine the brightest to them.

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jsprnt · 6 months ago

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you and your boyfriend fight about how much less time he’s been spending with you

jude bellingham x reader

A/N: first jude one-shot after writing a 16 part series of him, let’s go!! based on this request!!

W/C: 1.936

"where are you going? you told me you were off today..”

you say, brows furrowed as you look up from your laptop. you're greeted by an obviously frustrated-looking Jude, dressed up and ready to go out.

"I am off today. I'm about to head out with the guys.." he says, opening the fridge, sticking his hand out, and grabbing a cold bottle of kombucha.

"oh.." you trail off, eyes gliding back to your laptop screen, words dancing on your word document.

you'd been fully focused on writing your essay for your university class. school had kept you incredibly busy lately, and you had only a matter of a couple months left before you could finally graduate.

jude had also been very busy with his career. long hours of training, his matches out of the country, keeping him from spending time with you.

you had found it difficult to even sit and talk together for more than an hour, because either you had to work on something for university, or jude needed to go out for his work.

you had not told him yet, but it drove you absolutely insane. before you both had moved to madrid for his career, you had a fair amount of time to spend with each other , but now that he'd transferred to real madrid- even a moment together felt impossible...

unbeknownst to you, you clench the pen in your hand tightly, trying hold yourself back from spitting out absolute nonsense.

your eyes flicker back to the kitchen when you hear jude rummage through the kitchen cabinet.

"what're you doing?" you ask, sucking in a breath, and getting off the chair you’re sitting on. walking over to him, and leaving your laptop behind on the dinner table.

"looking for a bottle opener.." he mumbles, opening a few drawers halfway, before closing them haphazardly.

"it's in the third one.." you mumble, mood noticeably down, as you open the drawer and hand him the silver bottle opener.

"here.." you say, snarky tone slipping, even though you try your best to suppress it.

"what's up with you?" jude asks, opening his drink with a 'pop', before pouring the contents of the bottle into a glass.

"nothing.." you mumble, not daring to look him in the eye, knowing you'll explode in frustration if you do.

"you're definitely hiding something.." he says, chugging his drink down, before slipping his phone into his back pocket, indicating he's about to leave.

the action triggers you instantly, and you look up, your eyes burning holes into his face.

"can you just go already? you're so eager to leave, just like every off day you've had for the past month.." you spit, fingers gripping the kitchen counter, as a scowl is plastered across your face.

jude pauses for a second, eyes widening for a moment, before he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"what are you on about? can I not enjoy my day off with my mates or something?" he asks, voice clearly upset. his brum accent is thick, annoyance showing as wrinkles etch into his forehead.

“no, it’s not like you’ve spent every single fucking day off with them or anything…” you raise your voice slightly, frustration rising up and making your face hot.

you knew that you’d messed up by raising your voice, but the amount of both sadness and aggravation that had been building up in your heart for the past month needed an outlet.

channeling your emotions into a proper conversation was definitely better, but jude wasn’t a clueless teenage boy anymore.

there’s absolutely no excuse for him to not realize how much time he’d been spending out of the house. neglecting his relationship- partially to both work obligations, and his own decisions to go out on his off days.

“really? you’re actually going to tell me how I should spend my days off? like I haven’t busting my arse to train, to be in top shape for the euros?”

the frown on jude’s face deepens, and his hands fall to his side. annoyance written all over his handsome face.

“oh, please. go ahead and think of why I’m saying this. use your brain for a second and think for me, yeah?” your voice is full of venom, and you turn around, slippers hitting the floor as you make your way up the stairs. leaving your boyfriend in the kitchen.

a scoff falls from his lips, absolutely astonished by the harsh words you’d spat. in the three years of your relationship- you’d never exchanged any harsh words like this before..

yes, you fought and had disagreements with each other, like many healthy couples. but, it had never gotten to the point of any of you using condescending tones and sharp words.

from the beginning of your relationship, communication and understanding were always important values for you both. though with how busy the both of you had been lately, you barely had any proper conversations, let alone upkeep the values, that kept you so connected to each other.

“y/n!” jude calls out, placing his half-full glass next to the sink, before dashing up the stairs, behind you.

“where do you think you’re going? hey, finish the conversation!” he says, grabbing onto your hand, before you can enter your shared bedroom, and can slam the door in his face.

“you don’t even care about what I say- so what’s the point? we’ve practically been ignoring each other for the past few- whatever weeks! and now you decide, ‘let me spend the day off with mates, and not my girlfriend- who I’ve been neglecting for so long’.”

you take a deep breath, trying to control your breathing as you spill all your thoughts and emotions.

jude’s body goes rigid, the grip on your hand slipping away. making your hand fall back against your side. his thoughts and rationality swirl through his brain, and he can only let out a sigh.

“you know, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just trying to have some fun, am I not allowed to have fun?” the words spill from his mouth before he can register them fully, and he almost clasps a hand to his mouth.

the words raise your blood pressure, and you feel the urge to scream at him becoming bigger.

“of course, being with your girlfriend of three years is so boring.. you need a new bitch to entertain you, so can have your ‘fun’. you don’t need a girlfriend who’s moved her entire life for her boyfriend. moved universities, left family behind- okay, jude.”

your breath hitches, tears of both anger and sadness threatening to fall. wet eyes staring up at your boyfriend’s chocolate brown ones.

“y/n-”

he begins, but you don’t spare him a single extra look, before stepping into your shared bedroom, and slamming the door in his face.

“leave..” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

you jump into your bed, bringing the covers up to your chest and place your head on your pillow. jude’s side empty, just like it had been often lately.

you rub your eyes, allowing the tsunami of tears to overtake your emotions. crying for minutes on end.

you feel both relieved and horrible. glad you could finally let the emotions eating up at you, for the past few weeks out. horrified, because you had just both yelled at your boyfriend and accused him of doing the most trust-breaking thing ever..

you sob until your eyes are red, and swollen. eventually falling asleep from exhaustion and energy loss.

you only wake up a couple hours later, feeling something cold and wet on your skin, mainly your forehead. opening your eyes, you’re immediately greeted by jude, sat next to you on the bed.

his eyes are mirroring yours, swollen and dark circles more pronounced than ever.

it’s obvious he’d been crying, and his attire had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

he hadn’t gone out..

you shift your head away from his touch, only to realize he’s holding a wet cloth to your forehead.

“baby..” he breathes out, concern etched into his face, he leans down. other hand placed on your cheek. you don’t respond, waiting for your boyfriend to speak first.

“you’re burning up..” he finally says, lifting up the cloth before dipping it into a bowl on your nightstand. he squeezes the water out, wiping down the rest of your face, before placing the white cloth back onto your forehead.

“and- I’m sorry, I just need you to know that, while I try to keep your fever down. I’m sorry, darling. we’ll talk about it in a minute, I promise. you just let me take care of you..” he trails off, thumb caressing the soft of your cheek, before wiping down your face again.

“I’m- I have a fever?” you finally say, shifting and trying to sit up.

“yeah, must be from all the stress or something..”

the words are said quietly, laced with guilt and an apologetic tone.

it doesn’t take much longer, and you’re almost feeling suffocated due to the tense and awkward atmosphere. having enough, you bring your hand up to grab onto jude’s hand, stopping him mid-wipe.

“jude..” you begin, sitting up quickly, before he makes you lay back down. you grab the cloth out of his hand, throwing it into the bowl next to you.

“I’m sorry as well..” you can already feel the tears prickle in your eyes, and you clench your jaw, making your temples hurt.

“I yelled at you instead of talking normally, and- accused you of-”

you choke on your sobs, not being able to finish your sentence, before you feel jude’s strong arms wrap around your back.

he brings you closer, slightly cold hands touching your burning skin.

“no, I’m sorry, baby- don’t you apologize, hm..” he presses multiple kisses on your temple, fingers running up and down your back.

he allows you sob into his broad chest, touch and words comforting.

“I know you and I were super busy. but- I should’ve put in more effort to make plans, or even just make sure I gave you the attention and love you deserve, I’m sorry darling,.” his brum accent whispers into your ears, and you slowly calm down, hearing his words- made your feelings, feel valid.

“I unconsciously thought you’d be busy, so I made plans immediately without thinking of anything else..” he explains, hands running up and down your arms, finally rubbing circles on your elbows.

“I will never, ever in my life- for any other breath I take, hurt or ignore you like this..”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you baby, I’ve loved you since the moment you caught my eye..”

he leans back, wiping the remaining tears on your face, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips. not caring about the fact that you are sick..

“you got that, darling?” his voice sounds like honey, and you can feel your tears drying up slowly.

you nod, looking up and grabbing onto his hands.

“good, let’s lay back down, okay? you’re still burning up..” he helps you, chuckling when you grasp at his shirt, and bury your face into his chest again.

“you comfortable?” jude asks, running his hands down your side, and kissing your forehead.

you nod again, humming in response.

“okay, why don’t we lay down a little, and then we’ll have dinner, ‘kay?”

“deal..” you agree, soft touches lulling you back into a slumber, sweet words being whispered into your ear, helping you relax..

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