#knows how badly i'm struggling with these urges

[skelespidey]

little rant because i fucking hate bitches so BAD! // cw sh mentions

cutting yourself once or twice makes you different from someone who does it normally. just because you did it in the past doesn't make it okay for you to joke about it. it's only funny to joke about sh if it's an ongoing problem or something you struggled with a lot in the past. i know this might sound like i'm invalidating some people, but honestly it doesn't matter how deep you cut or how you hurt yourself, it's still sh (and no, hot showers don't count as sh, to the insufferable cunts on tiktok who say it does). if you cut yourself once or twice and talk about it for months after, you're just trying to find a way to make jokes about it.

i don't care if this makes me seem "insensitive" because people need to hear this cuz do you know how fucking weird i feel to cut myself and have people stare at my arms and at me in general and then there are people who barely cut themselves when they were 12, have no scars, and will talk about it 2+ years later ALL THE FUCKING TIME. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT. i'm sick of hearing people act like they would cut themselves "so badly" but then they stopped and then they proceed to gasp when they see that i have more than 3 cat scratches on my fucking left arm or something.

yes, you are valid if your deepest cut is a cat scratch, styro, bean, fascia, bedrock. you are valid. but to me someone is only valid if they ACTUALLY struggled with sh. this means urges, constantly doing it, feeling like you need to do it, liking the feeling, maybe hating the feeling but treating it as a punishment, ANYTHING. IF YOU ACTUALLY STRUGGLED WITH SH THEN YOU ARE VALID. BUT ONCE OR TWICE IS VALID, YES, BUT ONLY FOR A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF TIME. and also that does NOT make you the same as someone who does it all the time and struggles with it severely. think of it as someone who has tried drugs once vs an addict.

thank you for listening to the yap

[rowarn]

// tw suicide : vent

[jarofstyles]

Flower 4

Hi my loves! I am unsure if this is the last part, I'm a little stumped on what to do for another part. If you guys have suggestions pleeeease let me hear them. Without further delay, here is the smut I've been depriving ya'll of. (Sorry xoxo)

Flower Masterlist

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WC- 5.2k

Warnings- smut, soft dom!H, spitting, cum play, daddy kink mention, unprotected sex, all the good stuff etc

Harry’s hands were made to touch her. Calloused from the work he did, hot to the touch, he handled her in a cocksure way that had her melting under his fingertips. There was no mistaking that there was a touch of desperation, but she couldn’t tell who had felt it stronger- Harry or herself.

Y/N had never been so positive over a feeling before. Feeling them grip her under her thighs with fingers digging into the plush of her and picking her up with their lips attached, he pulled her up his body and carried her through his house and towards the stairs. He handled her weight as if she had none at all, light as a feather in his arms and fuck, it only added to how slick her poor panties were getting. As much as she wanted to insist they could do it right there in the entry way, Harry was nothing short of a gentleman. Even if he was about to blow her back out. 

“Need t’get you out of these goddamn clothes.” He grunted. “Wearing shit of mine… do you know what that does to me?” He asked hypothetically, but Y/N had a smartass answer for it. 

“I had a hope.” She grinned against his lips, squeaking when his hand came down on her ass. Fuck. It had jiggled slightly but the burn of it was light. He could do it much harder and she would love every second of it.

“Yeah? Had a hope it’d get my cock hard so you could take care of it?” The man seemed smug about that. “Well, mission fucking accomplished, Flower. Now it’s time t’get them off so I can see this beautiful body and worship you the way you need to be.” 

Y/N squealed as she was deposited onto his bed, watching with pants as he tugged his shirt off and fumbled with his own belt. “Just need t’let my cock breathe, sweetheart. Been aching all day.” A stroke to her ego, that information definitely did its job. 

“When did it start?” The question was breathed up at him, eyes struggling to find a spot to settle on. The obvious bulge that his hand squeezed over as the other tossed the belt to the side, or his face. 

“Well, if you want honesty? I stroked off in the shower t’avoid this. Thought about how you sat so nicely in my lap last night and pushed my hand under over your thigh, let me feel all that pretty skin. But then I show up and you’re wearing my fuckin’ jacket, telling me about the books you’re reading and hinting into your sexual desires… and it made we want t’fulfill them.” he let his jeans fall down his legs, boxers covering him up but not enough to keep her from feeling the hitch in her throat. His hand pawing over his erection, looking like peeling those pants away had been the relief he needed for the moment and pulling the fabric around it with a soft hiss. “I tried t’be good, but not too good. Liked that you were touchier with me, hoped that you’d finally gotten the message that I’m completely obsessed with you. But I think you did.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened as he grabbed her ankles and pulled her closer to him, settling on his knees in front of the bed. “Obsessed?” She so badly wanted to be the dirty talking vixen she read about countless times, but it was near impossible to form more than a few coherent words at a time as Harry kissed over her ankle, making his way up her leg. Feather soft kisses, the tickle of facial hair, she fought the urge to squirm as she took in the view. 

“Are you kidding me?” Shooting her an incredulous look her way. “Since the day we’ve met, you’ve completely ruined me. All I wanted- all I needed was a bit of your attention. Do you even know how excited I was… when you had me come over to help in your kitchen?” His lips started over on the other leg, leaning the other on his shoulder. “Got t’be around you all alone with that… but I had a job to do. Didn’t think that through. Was gonna ask you out so many times but I wasn’t sure you wanted me…”

“I did! I do.” There was a rush to correct that. “I just- I didn’t want to assume you wanted me. Like that.” She felt a little silly about it now considering if it had been any of her other friends she would have been able to clock it straight off, but when it came to herself she never liked to assume someone liked her that way. 

“Well, now you know. It isn’t an assumption. I want you, Flower. In every damn way you’ll let me have you.” Fingers found her waistband and tugged lightly, quietly asking her to budge up so he could peel her bottoms off. It had made her speechless, something she seldom was. “Tell me what you’ll let me have. It’s up to you.” 

“I want you to do whatever you want to me. I don’t want to make decisions.” That response fell out of her mouth before she could even think about it. Handing over power to him wasn’t something she had anticipated doing but it felt right, so she didn’t correct herself.  It seemed to take him by surprise but he looked happy with it, more than so with his gaze darkening and her pants tossed somewhere in his bedroom, along with her useless panties. A strained curse left his mouth as he looked at her, the swollen and slick cunt on display for him. His face was right there, so close she could feel his breath. 

All that did was make her more impatient, more wet. He looked like he wanted to devour her, completely engulf her in him. That’s all she wanted, more than he could ever know.

“You know what to say to make me stop, hm?” There wasn’t much she would ever imagine her needing to tell him to stop for, but the sentiment was nice. 

 “Mhm. I know.” She nodded. “Now, please. I’m gonna go crazy.”  When she had her orgasms and she was of the right mind again, she knew she’d be a bit embarrassed for how desperate she sounded, but it got her what she wanted. 

Harry didn’t reply verbally, his fingers spread her poor, puffy cunt open and dragged his tongue up her, getting the gasp he had been looking for as he did so. There was no hiding just how much he wanted it, no way she could ever mistake this as any sort of pity fuck. Harry was hungry, starving for her alone. Fingers digging into hip as the other held her pussy spread, he buried his face into her with the most depraved groan she’d ever heard in her life. 

There was no hiding his enjoyment, but she didn’t think he wanted to. Slick sounds of his tongue against the sensitive flesh, lapping up her arousal and slick from her and pressing the tip against her entrance as if asking for more from the source. She keened as he pressed a little more against her, fucking her slightly with his tongue.

Something she’d never actually had done to her, but read plenty of times.  There had been jokes about Harry being somewhat of a oral guy- but never had she expected this. 

“Oh- fuck, H.” She panted, digits tangling in his hair. “Oh my god, that’s so fucking good.”

Y/N had gotten head before, but never to this level. Harry was licking her up, devouring her like she was a literal meal. The sweetest dessert, strawberries & chocolate, or whatever it was that had become his personal vice. He wasn’t quiet about enjoying it in the slightest. 

“You are perfect.” He panted as he pulled away for a little moment. His face was slightly flushed and his chin and mouth glistened from her arousal and his spit, but it was one of the most filthy and gorgeous pictures she had ever seen. How did the man look so beautiful eating her out? “How did you keep this away from me?” Pressing a kiss to her clit, he grumbled under his breath. “Perfect cunt. You don’t even understand how often I’ve thought about this.” Another kiss, making her jolt as his thumb found it after for some lazy circles. 

“When did you- when were you thinking about it?” Y/N wanted to know. A curious cat, perhaps, but she wanted to know what had been going on in his mind. How oblivious she’d actually been. 

“Any time you wore a skirt. The floaty sundresses, fuck… those, those things nearly killed me quite a few times.” His fingers moved from her hip to her top, pushing it up her stomach as the other continued rubbing her clit and his sticky mouth kissed over her mound and up to her belly button. “When you sat on my lap, when you crossed your legs, when you jumped onto your kitchen counter and talked to me while I was on the ground to fix the cabinet underneath it…” she could almost see his mind bringing him back to that moment. It only proved how oblivious she actually was. There had only been a single moment that day she had felt like he had looked at her differently. “Any day that ends with ‘y’, Flower. Been making me go out of my mind with how bad I want you.” 

“You have me.” She promised, chestnut strands pulling through her fingers as he continued kissing over her stomach until the shirt hit her breasts and began to be pulled over. To help him- and for her own selfish reasons- she pulled the top off for him along with her bralette to give him the view he deserved. “Can do whatever you want with me now.” 

Harry took that seriously, but there was no doubting that. Pressing sloppy kisses all over her breasts, right in between them, he removed the hand from her clit and brought them up to hold her tits in his hands. “That’s a rather dangerous thing to tell me, sweetheart. So dangerous, because if you give me that sort of permission… who’s to say I’ll let you go? Hm?” He purred, flicking his tongue over her nipple and smiling at her gasp. “If it’s whatever I want, you’d be tied up to the bed and left with nothing but my marks on your body and my cum leaking between your thighs.” 

The imagery had her choking back a whine, his hot mouth engulfing her nipple and suckling on it with fervor. Her hand tangled in his hair, arching her chest further into his mouth as she dropped her head back against the duvet. Slick, wet pulls of her pebbled nipple into his mouth with little attempt to keep it quiet, her cunt pulsed at the attention he paid to them. It wasn’t hurried, languidly pulling at them and switching over with a pleased hum. She had to admit it wasn’t something that usually got to her as much, but something about the beau he did it- about how much he clearly loved every moment of it- brought it into a new light. 

“Yeah…. Yeah, I love that.” She whispered as his teeth grazed over the nipple he had in his mouth. “Harry you’re just… my brain feels like it’s melted and you aren’t even inside of me yet.”

Somehow he found it humorous though there was no semblance of joke in her tone. The woman felt like a puddle under his touch and she was more than desperate to have him, all of him, after being teased all day long. Managing to pull himself from his new toys, he found it in him to reply. “I know, petal. Isn’t that the best part? You want to be fucked so nice that you don’t have to think for a little bit?”

“Yeah.” The mewl was borderline pathetic but god, did she want that. “You can do that? You want to?” 

“Mhm.” He agreed against her skin, pressing wet kisses up to her throat. “I told you I’d take care of you. You just sit pretty and let me do what I know you’ll like, yeah? You know how much I like to take care of you…”

It had become abundantly clear that he had an affinity for it- that’s for sure. He bought her lunch and opened her door for her, he took her heavy packages from the porch when she came over, he’d repainted her cabinets when she had tried to DIY and massively failed, he got her water when she got a little too tipsy at the bar, he’ll- he’d bought her an entire haul of books without blinking an eye. Harry was one of those people who genuinely loved taking care of her. Why wouldn’t she let him indulge? 

“Yes, Daddy.” She peered down at him with her softest gaze, knowing his last threat had been one one to bend her over his lap… but hopefully this time would be a different approach. 

Thankfully it had its desired effect as he paused his kisses on her throat to take her mouth again. Hotter, deeper, he pressed himself between her legs and rocked into her bare cunt despite being covered in his briefs, making a joined noise of pleasure pass their kisss. Again, he ground into her, the thin fabric of the last covering between them doing little to hide how hot his cock was- how big it was. She was going to go crazy. 

“Wanna suck you.” The request was a little whiny, but who could blame her? She felt like he’d be a mouthful but she was always up for a challenge. Despite it, Harry shook his head at the offer, brushing their noses back and forth. 

“Later. I told you, I want to take care of you… and besides.” Taking the moment to peel down the fabric enough to free himself, she gasped as the thickness was nestled against her cunt. “I won’t last long if you do. Want to make sure I give you… the most pleasure… that I can.” He spoke the words between sticky kisses.

Y/N’s head felt full, like she was underwater. His prick swollen against her cunt, rubbing against her in slow passes as the skin got slick from her arousal, tip nudging her clit with every pass. With a shuddery breath, she tipped her hips up and clutched at his arm, desperation kicking in. She’d been edged all damn day, and she wanted him inside her. “Then fuck me.” She whispered impatiently. “Fuck me, I don’t wanna be empty anymore.” 

Harry was slightly infuriating when he chuckled at her eagerness, sighing into a kiss. He’d been waiting so long for them to get to this point, and he knew- he knew he wouldn’t last long. “You’ve got t’give me a moment. Just feelin’ your slick cunt on my cock is making me wanna cum. Probably could- just like this.” His voice softened as he rocked his hips. “Could cover your pretty pussy with a load of cum and rub it into your skin, just kissing on you and rubbing into your cunt.” 

Y/N knew she was malfunctioning a bit as he spoke to her in a tone she hadn’t experienced from him, saying all sort of dirty shit she’d only heard in books and making her more wet and achy than she had ever been in her entire life. “Please.” Her hips bucked into him, the slide of his cock over her bare cunt taunting her. It was big, big enough she’d feel it in her stomach and she’d have an ache in her thighs but that sort of burn was one she had been desperate for. “Please, I wanna be good but I want you inside of me so badly. Please, H.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He crooned, eyes lit with amusement. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll be nice t’you. But I don’t know if it’s going to fit.” His tongue clicked as his notched his tip against her hole, pressing just enough to stretch a little before pulling back. Cruel teasing, perhaps, but he loved watching her face screw up in desperation for him. He’d waited a long while for her to see him, to understand this was anything but just friendship, so now that he had her from the palm of his hand… he sort of wanted to watch her eat from it. Get her soft and pliable for him after her makes her beg.  “See? You’re struggling just taking the tip.” 

Y/N let out a cry, lifting her hips up and grabbing at his arm. “I want it. Please, I’ve been wet all day and I don’t care if it hurts, I want you to hurt me then. I’m so fucking empty, jus’ give it to me.” She felt bratty for even being whiny about it but she could feel her eyes watering at how her clit was pulsing and her pussy ached to be filled. The pain from his cock couldn’t be worse than the emptiness she felt now. 

“Oh… shh.” He cupped her cheek, leaning down for a slow kiss. “Be sweet to me. Stop cussing at me. You’re a sweet little flower, S’why I like you so much. Didn’t know how dirty you got, but as much I love you begging for me, you need to let me be in charge. That’s what you wanted.” 

Y/N felt slightly reprimanded, opening her mouth to apologize when he pushed into her. It wasn’t all of him, but it was enough to steal her breath as she choked on air. Thick heat spreading her open, inching himself the rest of the way in as her head fell back onto the mattress. She held her breath before she had to take a gasping inhale, eyes watery as they looked up at him. It hurt, like he said, but not in a bad way. The new ache was satisfying as he pressed all the way inside, balls flush with her ass as he slowly rocked his hips against hers. 

“I warned you.” He murmured, thumbing a tear away from her cheek. “There’s so many deprived things…. I want to do to you…” he let his eyes fall shut as he pulled out for a shallow thrust, keeping most of himself inside of her. “So many filthy, nasty things that I have a feeling you’ll really love. But this time… I want to make you feel good. Want you to cum on this cock and know….” Nose brushing hers, he inhaled her exhale, squeezing her cheek lightly. “That I want to keep this pretty cunt, and I want to be the only cock allowed inside of it.” 

Y/N’s head got a little blurry from there. The swell of emotion hitting her as he claimed her in that sort of way, his lips brushing her cheek and praising her for how well she was taking him and squeezing him tight, his thrusts getting harder, deeper. 

“Look at me.” He commanded, finding his rythym. “Look at me, flower. Want you to give me your gorgeous eyes while I fuck you. There’s my girl.” His gaze shone with intensity and satisfaction and need, the gentle tone of his voice making it hard for her to look away at all. 

The sound of their sex was wet and slick, his cock filling her up in slow, deep pulls that had her eyes blurring each time he got as deep as he could go. “This isn’t a one time thing. This is changing… our relationship.” He breathed against her lips, giving his hips a roll and watching as the pleasure of her clit rubbing against his groin hit her face. “That good with you, Flower girl? Y’okay with being mine?” In a contrast of the deep fuck, his nose nuzzled against hers. “I’ll be the best boyfriend. Keep helping with your house… take you to whatever bookshops y’want… bring you those pretty flowers you love but have trouble finding. Give you anything you want.” 

Y/N didn’t need convincing that he’d be a good lover but the way he felt he had to plead his case with her was making her heart sing. 

“M’tired of not being able to call you mine, not being able to tell people t’fuck off because you’re my girl. Everyone teases me because… god, I look like you hung the stars, but you did. You planted ‘em just like your flowers.” He rasped, making her whimper. Holding tightly onto him, she tightened her legs around him and enjoyed the reward of his groan as he kissed her. Clinging to his broad back and feeling the way she was encompassed by his size, she felt overwhelmingly safe and horny and all of the things she couldn’t even describe. 

“Yes.” She nodded. “Uh-huh. I know. You can have me.” The answer was simple. 

The blazing smile was something that nearly stole all the air from her lungs as he looked genuinely excited, slowing the thrusts as he kissed her again, but it was different. Something about it felt even more charged. Desperate. She wanted to feel the full effects. “That was the right answer, baby.” He mumbled. “I’ll ask in a better way when m’not inside of you, but I couldn’t handle another minute of not knowing. Fuck..” his smile prohibited the kissing, too wide for her to actually get somewhere and it made her giggle. Drunk with the pleasure of him pressed deep in her channel, she felt him start to go at her a bit harder. 

“No more questions, angel. Just lay there and let me do what I promised.” 

Y/N took his word and let him fuck her the way she hadn’t known she needed. Thoroughly, deep, punching out cries from her lungs that she had barely realized she was saying. Babbling to him as he shifted his hips and found the spot he absolutely needed, she let her head fall back and mouth fall open as he fucked the spot again. 

The orgasm took her by surprise. “Daddy- oh… oh fuck-“ she shook, shocked by how fast and hard it hit her. The repetitive prods into it had worked her up, the heat flushing through her body as he continued. There was no slowing down, her body squirming slightly under him as she was slightly overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Oh… there it is, sweets. Did that feel good? Y’look so pretty when you cum for me, baby.” He crooned. “Prettiest thing in the world. Knew you’d struggle to take me but your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight… it’s perfect.” When she began to whine, he cut it off promptly. “Enough of that. M’gonna give you another one.” Thumbing over her chin, he pulled it open further. “Stick out that little tongue for me.” 

Y/N did as asked, bleary eyes nodding up at him as he pursed his lips and spit right into the flat of her tongue. It was nasty and hot to add into the sweet fuck he was giving her, but she knew it had only been the begging. He was being nice this first time around. 

“Oh, look at that. You’re so good when you get cock in you. Needed to be stretched and fucked, my gorgeous Flower.” He lifted a hand, slicking his fingers over the wet tongue. “Suck, bite… whatever you want. I need t’make you cum again.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, obedient in her fucked out form as she sucked on the two digits while he fucked her, harder than before. It was hard to decide if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer, nails running over his back as he groaned deep in his chest. There was something so erotic about him fucking her with little filter, eyes watching her lips as she bobbed her head on his fingers and breathed erratically as he sent her towards her next release. 

“No more of those stupid, silly little hookups. No more boys who are… fuck, baby… who are gonna leave you high and dry.” His brows furrowed as his slick cock pummeled her, pathetic little noises vibrating against his fingers. “M’gonna make you cum each and every time. My girl isn’t gonna have t’go without. Jesus.” He pulled his fingers from her mouth and gripped her jaw, pinning her with his gaze.

He could feel her cunt pulsating around him. Slick and hot and so tight it was borderline too much, he’d been holding off and it was hard not to lose his mind after finally getting what he wanted, but he knew she was close and he wanted another. “Cum.” His lips brushed her wet ones. “Cum. Cum for me. C’mon…” the ghost of a kiss sucked her bottom lip, the panting between them heavy. 

Y/N had to wondering how or why her body reacted to strongly to him, but right now all she was thinking of was how grateful she was to that fact. A broken moan of his name broke the panting, one of her leg falling from his hips as she came on his cock. It was a different sort of orgasm, feeling it from the inside out in a complicated way. She could feel herself gushing slightly as he fucked into her, a curse of his own leaving as her body felt weightless. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck… baby.” He whimpered, jaw slack as he pulled out and slicked his hand over his drenched cock. “Baby… baby, fuck.” His brain couldn’t come out with a different word pattern, white flashing behind his eyes as he felt his balls tighten and the first ribbon of cum decorated her cunt. The deepest groan left his throat as he wobbled on his one hand keeping him up, milking himself of every drop of cum as he pointed it at her clit. It was messy, dribbling from her bellybutton to her swollen cunt, and he couldn’t do anything but admire it. “Holy shit.” 

The girl acted quickly, gathering his face in her hands and kissed him sloppily. He returned it just as wet and messy, exhaling through his nose as he worked himself through the last of it. 

The wind down was oddly the best part. Lazy kissing, her soft giggles as he brushed her sweaty hair back and peppered slow kisses over her face and down her neck, he loved the slow intimacy as he looked her over. Sated, soft, pliant in the way he wanted. “Christ… you’re beautiful.” His voice felt raspy as he observed her, the most vulnerable place someone could be and she shone bright in his sheets. “Mm… I may take up my earlier threat.” He mumbled as he turned her on her side, pulling her in. 

“Which one?” She laughed, relishing in how he touched her. So gentle for someone who had just metaphorically broken her back. 

“Keeping you locked up on my bed. S’even more appealing now than before.” 

——-

“M’sorry.” Harry’s brows furrowed as she stood in front of his bathroom mirror. Taking a shower together had resulted in the shower sex one would expect, except this time he’d let her suck him off.

“Shut up.” She sighed, bumping him away as she used the brush to tame her hair. “I’m gonna be a little sore sitting down. It’s fine. And I have a feeling that isn’t even the toughest you get, so you’re gonna have to get used to me wincing.” Harry was beyond sweet for caring that she was a little sore when she had stood up from the shower bench, but it was to be expected. 

“Don’t love the idea of you in any pain at all.” 

“As sweet as that is, I’m fine.” Turning to face him, her hands cupped her cheeks and she gave him a sugary smile. “I’m hungry though. So you need to get me some sort of post coitial snack before I get grumpy. I’ll change the sheets.” 

Y/N grinned as he narrowed his eyes at her, stamping a kiss to her cheek and giving her ass a swat before making his escape. 

It was hard to fathom what had just happened. Harry had fucked her six ways to Sunday, multiple times, all the while basically asking her to be his girlfriend. It was a dream come true, but it happened so quickly that her head felt like it was spinning. The quiet time to think while she changed his sheets and pulled on one of his shirts had given her more time to process. 

If she looked back at it now, it made sense and she was more than obviously oblivious. It was hard to deny it now. He was so attentive and kind and touchy in a way that should’ve lent a hand in her understanding his feelings but she’d been so hell bent on not getting her hopes up that she hadn’t been able to see what was in front of her the whole time. 

Harry was a staple in her life, but it felt like now it was a relief to know he wanted to commit to her. He’d been the one to make it a point in saying this wasn’t just a one off. He wanted to date her. Be a boyfriend. 

Fuck. Harry was her boyfriend! 

That realization nearly sent her falling over but he entered the room with some cheese and crackers, grapes and water on a tray, and… a book? Her eyebrow raised as he placed the tray on the bed, padding over to his designated side of the bed- wow- and leaned up against the headboard. 

“Was thinking we could eat and I’d read you some of the book.” He laid the suggestion out as he spread his legs, patting the space between them. “Want to know what the hype is behind this book that it’s got you and Gia in a tizzy. And I’m feelin’ a little selfish and want close to me.” 

“Is this an excuse so I’ll hand feed you grapes?” Y/N joked but felt her heart in her throat as she got into position and felt him haul the tray over to her lap and flipped the book open. 

“Maybe a little bit. But is it so wrong that I’d like t’read my girlfriend one of the books she bought today?” 

Hearing it from his lips for the first time made her want to kick her feet against the sheets and squeal out loud, but she managed to control herself as she cleared her throat, tilting her lips up to kiss his jaw. “Nothing wrong with that at all.” She whispered, face flushed under her skin. “Here’s the first grape.” “Thank you.” He beamed, taking it between his teeth and crunching down. “Alright. Page one….”

[dumbification]

luxurious ft. aventurine

summary: aventurine's love for you was expensive, and having your lips meet his was pure euphoria.

cw: aventurine x fem!reader, nothing much just a hot make out sesh, listen to luxurious by gwen stefani while reading

you wonder how you got here.

someone pathetic like you, sipping champagne in one of the finest hotels of penacony.

you could really never imagine living a luxurious life, you've been working night and day from the pits of hell. now you're rolling in cashmere with aventurine---he's been there.

as you take another sip from your glass, you shyly shift in his lap. he softly laughs for a minute, wishing he could see your expression right now.

your face blushed with a tinge of crimson, a bead of sweat gathering at your temple. you've never been in a private room with him, you only met at busy parties.

he presses a kiss on your nape, lingering to fan his hot breath on you. you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach. you decide to stand to lean against your mini bar for a while, to give yourself a little break. intimacy stresses you out.

"is something wrong?" he swirls his drink in his hand, and takes a sip from his champagne along with you. "not really. i'm just.."

you know he's worried, but that fake smile plastered on him always said otherwise. "just what?" he stands up as well.

in the blink of an eye, he's right in front of you, so close.. "just nervous." he gives you a look that spawns even more butterflies in your stomach.

the two of you put away your drinks when you catch him taking a glimpse at your lips. you know what he wants. you want it too. so badly.

"is my lip gloss smudged, or what?"

"don't play dumb."

he takes a step closer to hold your chin, he gently raises it to have you look at him in his eyes. they're beautiful. you thought. you feel like you could swim in them, it's like they could hypnotize you into doing whatever he wants. you would, no matter what it was.

you were so lucky to have a beauty like him.

he licks his lips as he sees your own tremble in excitement. the two of you are desperate to feel each other.

before you could finish your next thought, his lips collide with yours, and it's absolute perfection. they're so delicate. he thought of your lips, and your lips only. you can feel the butterflies fluttering somewhere far deeper.

you find your hands in his hair, gently tugging at it to encourage him to keep on going. his hands are all over you. one hand resting on your waist, and the other stroking your back, having you gasp and arch.

"tell me how it feels.." his voice was silky and melodious. you would fold when he spoke softly. your voice was his harmony, your sounds perfectly blending with his own.

aventurine wouldn't give you a break, you might as well just share breath. he ushered you to be more vocal by languidly grinding against you.

and you were vocal. extremely vocal. he knew just what to do, and knew how to make you crumble in his arms.

you were practically melting. you were drenched in arousal, longing for something more euphoric. the passion in him multiplied rapidly when he felt how soaked you were.

he pulls away to look at the mess you are. your legs barely keep your balance as you struggle to put two words together. your face burns a deep, beet red.

"someone's excited." aventurine smirks as he plants a kiss against your cheek. he effortlessly slips your red dress off and tosses it aside.

you avert your eyes in embarrassment. "a-aven, I.." now he really gets to see how excited you are. he himself burns a deep, beet red.

he's just as excited as you are. butterflies flutter around his insides, urging him to release his throbbing member from it's confinements.

but your eyes gave him a silent plea to slow down, so he listened.

something was so luxurious about your love. when your lips meet, it all turns to gold. you were his hidden treasure.

he was so lucky to have a beauty like you.

[littlemelaninfics]

Hi! I see you write for Bill Skarsgard and characters. I was wondering if I could request Eric Draven being a complete and totally pleasure Dom and he ends up putting you into subspace for the first time.

Excuse me, I need a moment 🥴

“Kneel for me.” 

You obediently sank to your knees in front of your dom, your head tilting back as your hair was harshly yanked by the god above you before he filled your pretty mouth with his cock. 

That had been hours ago. Now, you were spread out with your wrists and ankles bound to your metal bed frame. Your back arched, a strained cry leaving your lips as Eric landed a slap to your abused cunt. 

“Hold it. I didn’t say you could come again.” He snarled, feeling you get close for the fourth time that night. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimpered softly, trying to keep yourself from coming as his deep thrusts nailed your cervix, making your vision spark with pain and pleasure. You yanked on the bonds that held your wrists, desperate to grab him and drag your nails down his back or pull him close to you. 

“Shh, just relax and take it, baby,” Eric nipped at your shoulder, disapproving of your attempts to struggle against his ties. You tried to still, and as you looked up at your Master, you felt the familiar haze wash over you that blurred the lines between your fantasy and reality. 

He saw it in your eyes, the all-too-familiar look he loved to see. You were teetering on the edge of slipping into subspace, and he knew you were hesitant. 

He's proven himself time and time again, so you trusted Eric with your life and you knew that he would never let you fall or abandon you while you were in that mindset. You were constantly in charge of managing every aspect of your life both at work and school, and you so badly wanted to give yourself to him in the bedroom, but you always needed a little push.

“Don’t fight it. I'm right here.” His swollen pink lips grazed yours.

The dangerous tone that had occupied his voice all night was gone as his lips brushed your ear, coaxing you into subspace. Your fourth orgasm rocked through you like a tidal wave, Eric’s skilled fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit as he kept his forceful thrusts. 

Euphoria flooded your body as you went stiff as stone. Somehow making you feel weightless as pleasure overwhelmed your senses. He knew by the glassy look in your eyes that you were so far gone, floating around in subspace. When you're in subspace, you strive to be the best girl you can be for him. You had already stopped yanking against the bonds, and your body had gone almost limp below his massive frame as you relaxed.

He detached himself from your throbbing cunt, earning a small whine at not feeling full. “Don't worry. I’m not done. Hang on for me.”

He kissed your lips, softening up now that you were in a different headspace. You weren’t very good at communicating when you were like this, and it made him hesitant to be rough with you. 

“That’s my good girl,” He murmured, kissing up your chest to leave a mark on your neck for you to blush at in the morning, and him to admire. 

“I know that you have one more for me, Y/N. You’ve been so good tonight, just give me another, then you can be done.” Eric urged you, gently fingering you while stroking your g-spot and lightly pulling your clit between his teeth. 

A silent scream caught in your throat and you arched your back, your thighs trembling erratically, your muscles sore and aching from how many times you’d cum that night. You barely heard his praises, only processing your own mind-numbing pleasure. You tried to retreat your hips, but to no avail,

“Y/N, you’ve got to learn to quit fighting these.” He hummed, touching the light red marks around your wrists, and you looked up at him with pathetic doe eyes,

“M’sorry, Daddy.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. He kissed both your thighs before roughly fingering you until you were soaking his massive forearm. He leaned his head down once again and greedily slurped his favorite drink.

That's five tonight.

Once he saw the tears streaming down your face, he climbed back up your body and kissed your lips tenderly. You murmured incoherently, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you heavily. When you were yourself, you’d reach up to his hair and pull him in deeper, but now you were too fucked-out to think straight. 

He untied your limbs and sat you up enough to get behind you. You rested your head on his still damp chest. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the once chilled water and the face towel next to it. He dipped the towel and covered your forehead while telling you how good you were for him.

"I never thought I'd have the blessing of meeting someone like you and yet, here you are."

He pulled you to sit up, lifting the glass of water to your lips and supporting your head with his other hand. You opened your eyes, your gaze connecting with the deep green eyes that were full of love and adoration for you. You obediently swallowed the water he helped you drink, rehydrating your body.

Once you were relaxed enough to be moved, he lifted you off the bed and into the bathroom. He sat you on the pillow he placed on the stool before going to fill up the tub. You winced as the warm water swallowed your aching body as Eric sank down into the tub with you. You laid your head against his shoulder,

“I love you, Y/N” he said, kissing your temple as he rubbed soap over your body with his cool hands, gently massaging your sore muscles. 

“Love you,” you breathed, making him smile. 

“Can you drink some more for me, baby?” He held the glass, not quite trusting your muscle control yet. You finished the glass before he washed your hair, rubbing your scalp and pulling a pleased moan from your lips.

“Does that feel nice?” He laughed lightly, his chest vibrating against your back. You nodded, squirming as the bath water began to cool, becoming uncomfortable. 

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sat in front of the mirror, Eric standing behind you. He carefully ran your product through your mane, knowing you adored when he did so. It was intimate and tender, and he loved to comb through your tresses to show he loved you. This small gesture eased you back into reality so subtlety that it was a little ritual after a night like this.

“Was I good for you?” You spoke, making his eyes snap up to meet yours in the mirror. 

“Always.” He kissed the crown of your head. 

“Nice to have you back.” He spoke after several moments, his heart nearly bursting as you giggled softly. 

[opluffys]

Leading Score-

somethin quick, posted first to my archive. pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. pls enjoy <3

tags- size kink, size difference, creampie, vaginal sex, rough sex, desk sex, fem reader.

2.3k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-smut/nsfw-

As you had graded papers from your young students, you idly hummed as you noted how most of the scores had went up. Regarding spelling, it had been some of your kids weaker points, but after practicing with them one on one, they had gotten better, much to your pleasure.

"Done!"

You looked up from the monotonous tone of black on white, quickly writing a red mark next to the misspelled 'contree', you smiled warmly and took Joseph's paper.

"That was quick, sweetie. You could've taken until your daddy came to pick you up." You said, looking down at his exam and clicking your red pen.

"I'm fast." He smiled, sitting back in his small desk and chair, kicking his legs wildly as he awaited your feedback.

And however badly you wished to give him a full twenty out of twenty on his exam, spelling was one of the things that Joseph had struggled the most with. You knew he wouldn't improve overnight, which is why you were hopeful for tonight.

Even though it wasn't parent-teacher conference night, Joseph had been chirping, 'my daddy is picking me up today, and then we'll get ice cream.' before hearing a cacophony of envious groans. It had you laughing, yet hatching a quick plan to discuss Joseph's struggles with his father. You already had a small packet labeled 'trouble words' to give to his father, hoping they'd be able to practice over the long weekend.

Seeing as Joseph had been bored at his desk, you called him over to give him some puzzles or colouring sheets to do. He eagerly thanked you before returning to his seat, noisily scribbling on the paper.

Quickly finishing grading his spelling errors, he'd gotten a thirteen out of twenty. It'd been a wild and vast improvement from his other exams, but you knew he could do better.

You stood up and walked over to Joseph's desk, ruffling his hair and placing a small lollipop on his table. "You did better, honey. But I want you to practice more, can you promise me that?" You crouched down to his level, talking to him in a soft and understanding tone, a warm and inviting smile on your face. It had made him feel comfortable, not scolded, not 'do better', no. He'd wanted to do this on his own, seeing as he had nodded furiously, telling you that he'd do perfect on the next one.

You took his exam and walked outside of your classroom, leaning against the wall and waiting for Joseph's father to show. School had been finished for a while, the extracurricular activities ending early due to the extended weekend.

Out of your peripheral, you'd seen a tall figure walking towards your class. He had caught your eye easily, since the man was extremely tall and well built. As he'd gotten closer, you noted how he wore a balaclava with a skull pattern over the material. An interesting, choice to wear to an elementary school, but to each their own, you supposed.

"Mr. Riley, before you take Joseph, can we talk about how he's doing in class?" You inquired, quickly checking on the adorable child idly drawing on his papers before continuing the conversation with his dad.

"I'm not his old man." He said, voice low and gravelly as he held your stare.

Before you were able to ask what his relation was, he quickly replied that Joseph was his nephew.

"Oh! Then you must be Simon." You smiled, resisting the urge to tear your eyes away from him, seeing his dark eyes change expression for a moment, wondering how you knew who he was.

"Emergency contacts." You quickly added, chuckling awkwardly. He only offered you his cold stare, waiting for you to continue. "Well, if it isn't too much trouble, can you relay this to Joseph's dad for me?" You timidly asked, the tall man's presence causing you to feel skittish.

He gave you a curt nod, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped closer to you, looking at the paper in your hands. "Joseph struggles a lot with spelling," You almost choked on your words as you felt his arm brush against your shoulder, attempting to find your words once more, "as does his classmates. But I know he can show further improvement if he can practice at home." You showed him Joseph's test, his hand connecting with yours briefly before he took it in his larger one.

He hummed lowly, reading over his mistakes. "I have a packet of tough words for him that he'll need to practice," You went back into your classroom, hearing Simon's impossibly quiet steps echo behind you.

"Honey, your da-" You caught yourself before making the mistake, "uncle, is here." Though, you didn't really need to tell him, seeing as Joseph shot up from his seat to run over to Simon, hugging him tightly.

"Hey kid." His voice was soft, still low and rough, but that was just how he'd always sound. Seeing such a thing made your heart melt, having to quell the want to 'aww' at the sight unfolding, the huge man embracing such a tiny child endearing yet comical.

"It was nice to meet you." You said, handing Simon the packet, "And you," You laughed, looking down at Joseph, "keep your promise to me."

"I will!" He happily beamed, a toothy grin shining up at you.

You waved the two goodbye, turning to go back into your class and continue the long trek of finishing up your students papers. You had also wanted to enjoy your weekend, placing work on the back burner as you got lost in endless glasses of wine.

•

Never in your years of teaching had you ever expected a parent-teacher meeting to end like this, never.

Bent over your desk and crying out as you felt Simon behind you, large hands on the fat of your hips as he slammed into you. Your hands grasped at the edge of the wood desk, glossy eyes popped wide open as you felt his fat cock stretch you open inch by delicious inch.

How you two had went from talking about Joseph's amazing and impressive progress in class to him whispering the most vile things in your ears, an impressive feat. But you'd be a filthy liar if you hadn't been thinking of you and him in this very position.

"Simon..." You moaned, laying your tear stained cheek onto your desk, wetting any loose papers that remained. You almost sobbed when you felt his big hand slap your ass harshly, rubbing in small circles to soothe the stinging supple flesh.

His hard and toned muscles were flush against your softer back, his masked forehead pressing against your shoulder. His deep grunts and groans were right into your ear, having you squeeze him tightly, dragging him in deeper. Just the fact that he was so big had you unraveling on his fingertips. His hoarse and low voice telling you to be a 'good girl and push yourself against the desk.'

What else could you do but oblige?

"Fuck, you're tiny." He cursed, accented voice directly against your ear, his deep breaths and sounds repeating in your head again and again. You lost your words, brain just muddled thoughts and him in your head. You just mewled in response to his words, already aware of the fact that the differences in sizes between you two was evident. Evident in how his entire hand seemed to swallow the skin at your hip whole, how his shadow enveloped your own, he was just so big.

Tears continued their flow down your heated cheeks as you felt his dick assault your insides. Wet and warm walls clamping down on him with a vice-like grip, the hot sliding of his cock deep inside you having you cry out to him. Your blouse had been bunched up and held by Simon as he anchored himself to it, his hold on the fabric tight as his pace never faltered.

Your mixed sounds had been heard, skin against skin reverberating around the walls. Your heat taking him in and out hung embarrassingly in the room, your sounds louder as his hips continued to meet your backside. He watched, mesmerised at seeing your body recoil in response to his movements, how despite your smaller stature, you took his large girth, in fact, you'd wanted more.

The feeling of being stuffed to the absolute brim, or rather well past it, had you seeing stars. You don't remember the last time you'd been fucked like this, so raw and primal like. Losing your ability to form cognitive thoughts, the only thing that you'd been able to say was quiet, meek curses and affirmations.

To further your pleasure, he snuck a hand under you, pressing hard on your abdomen, pressing your insides against his cock. You almost screamed, his hot hand against your stomach had you reeling, your pussy squeezing his cock tightly at his touch.

"So good," You sobbed, knuckles blanching at how harsh your grip had been, he was so deep inside of you, too far. You wondered if you should curse him, as no other individual would surely match him in bed ever again, shattering your expectations of any other man permanently.

Your back had arched as you felt your high quickly approaching, sobbing when you felt his flushed head kiss flush against your womb, having your painted nails claw at the wooden desk. Crying his name out in broken sobs, stringing your words together pathetically as he unraveled you with his cock.

His hands around your soft body tightened, hearing the threads of your blouse rip, it's buttons loosening from its rightful position and scattering onto the ground. It'd been one of your favourites, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not with such a huge cock splitting your insides, having you yell out to him like a mantra.

When you felt him slam directly into that spot nestled within you, that bundle of nerves that had you seeing double, you nearly screamed, burying your head into your folded arms. You had to bite your wrists, you throat growing raw at all of your screaming, muffled whimpers spilled from your lips, eyes watering as you felt him ram into that spot with unknown precision.

He took both of your hands in his lone one, using your own wrists to hold onto while he continued to fuck you into the desk. "None of that, wanna hear you." He huffed, groaning when he felt you squeeze him tightly at his words.

You quietly moaned, your aching throat unable to produce sound at this point. Your fingers clasped and laced with your opposing hand, making it easier for him to hold onto your wrists. Grounding himself against you, his pace sped up, his length slamming into you over and over, it was too much, too good.

Your teary eyes etched closed, that familiar knot deep in your abdomen beginning to loosen, disentangling with every drag of him inside. Your gummy walls tightened around him, that pressure within finally ridding, just feeling pure bliss. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, rough waters eventually calming as your slick trickled down your spread thighs.

"That's it, take it," He cursed lowly, feeling your velvety heat clamp down on him, "doin' so well for me." You had no choice but to lay there and take it, take him. But you'd lay yourself down on any surface if he had asked you to, offering him your all whenever he'd commanded.

He assisted you in riding out your orgasm, your excess arousal making it easier for him to fuck deeper into you. He still trapped both of your hands in his singular one, garnering you unable to move properly without the assistance of your hands. His other hand had been attached to your hip, absentmindedly squeezing the fat of it every few thrusts.

You whimpered his name, your senses being thrown into overexertion while your nerves felt fried. His stamina was impressive, as you were normally used to a quick and disappointing fuck where only one of you had finished. He'd actually taken your own pleasure into consideration, that in itself had been surprising.

You felt his thick and heavy cock twitch inside your wet heat, hearing him curse deeply. His thrusts were sporadic and random, yet they still had your back arching.

You felt his masked forehead press against your bare shoulder. He deeply groaned as he shallowly thrusted into your wet and fluttering heat, spilling himself deep inside of you, painting your insides the prettiest of white.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, feeling him soften inside of you as he pulled out with a pained hiss. You had been slightly saddened at the loss of warmth inside of you, biting your bottom lip in fear that you'd accidentally blurt out something lecherous.

He assisted you in redressing, apologising at ripping your blouse. He offered you his large sweatshirt, covering majority of you. His scent was intoxicating, you had half a mind to lead him onto your spin chair, seating yourself down on his cock and using him for your own pleasure. But you just thanked him, rolling the sleeves up as you adjusted the scattered papers on your desk. You'd come back to clean in the morning, it was still the weekend and you had wine to attend to.

After ensuring you were dressed adequately, he walked you out and into your own car. He stared deeply into your endearing gaze, before a single question left his covered lips.

"What'd he get?"

You couldn't help but smile, turning the key into the ignition and hearing your old car sputter to life. Your hands loosened around the steering wheel before turning back to him once more,

"Twenty out of twenty."

[prowlspaparazzi]

NSFW, size k!nk, fem human, no-named mech bc i'm a slut for too many of em but i had certain autobots in mind | minors dni

Imagine u and ur fav mech fucking for the first time, they're trying so hard to go slow but struggling because of how good your walls feels, squeezing and stretching all around him. He's trying to make sure you're not hurt while you're whining for more. He wants so badly to give in and give you instant gratification but he's putting your comfort above all else, his huge spike being swallowed by your body.

He can hardly find the strength to pull himself out to push back in. So his thrusts become a little quick, pushing in deep and slow, pulling out quick so he can feel more of you. He runs a cool metallic servo up your back, making you shiver from the contact. His voice calls out to you, with that small digital tone in it, "You doing okay?"

You nod, small tears of pleasure in your eyes. This was finally it. No more barely adequate thighfucking. You called out his designation, and added, "please keep going..." In a quiet yet frantic tone. It took all this mech's strength not to use you like a fleshlight then and there. He kissed your hand, dwarfed in size by his, to satiate the urge to use you. He knows you'd like to be used, but he likes having you safe and out of medbay. His hips are careful, but they find a rhythm. He holds your hip in one hand and the other clenching the corner of the berth underneath.

Being inside a human felt like pure heaven. Your juices coating his spike to take more of him in. He pushed deeper, and let out a soft grunt of satisfaction. He leaned back, looking at your nude body laying on his berth. This was unprecedented. Completely new territory between human and autobot. But it was already so addicting. His digits squeezed at your thigh, and felt the skin squish and slightly twitch in his grasp. He couldn't hold back the small smile forming on his face.

You whined, bringing him back out of thoughts, and reached your hands out to him. He knew you wanted him over you again. You enjoyed the feeling of being safe underneath him. And he enjoyed he made you feel safe. His hips find a steady rhythm fucking you, and he listens to your breathy noises underneath him. Neither of you had climaxed yet, but he knew he was gonna want to do this again soon.

[me-and-your-husband]

if you lie down with me || e.w.

summary: there's one thing you and ellie don't have in common: immunity.

warnings: not beta read, swearing, blood, canon typical violence, death by suicide, ellie has concerning ideations, smut, oral, scissoring, multiple orgasms, angst!, crying during sex, arguing, probably more

word count: 6k

a/n: i know, i'm sorry for using this photo 😭 actually i'm sorry i wrote this entire thing

The end never feels like the end, does it? When you wake in the morning, the air is as fresh as the day before and the sun streams through the window at the same angle. You smile fondly at the incessant banging on your door, and at her urging tone when she tells you to get out of bed. “We have patrol,” she says, like she's said a thousand times before. What makes today any different? 

The gravel road feels the same as it crunches under your boots as she leads you to the gate. Her auburn hair shines the same in the light, the same way you've admired since you were fourteen and she had just settled in Jackson. 

You were helping out in the library, arms full of books stacked above your head. You struggled trying to keep them up with one hand and shelve them with the other. She noticed you from the corner, where she sat with a pile of beaten comics and a Walkman. “Need some help?” she asked, standing up from her spot on the ground. She took half the books from your pile and put them wherever you told her. After, when you asked her about the comics she was reading, her face lit up and she knew that you'd be a part of her life until death. Finally, someone was interested in knowing her. 

The friendly faces of the watchmen at the gate were the same as they were yesterday, a week ago, a month ago, a year. They waved at you and wished you good luck as you mounted your horse and rode alongside Ellie onto the trail. The way she shoved her pistol in her back pocket and slung her bow over her shoulders was always the same. The way your horse galloped evenly alongside Shimmer did not deviate from the norm. 

When she spoke up, her words were usual. 

“Look, babe. A hummingbird,” she said with glee, pointing to the frosty trees.

You smiled at her excitement. “Poor thing, it's so cold out.”

“Don't you remember?”

“Of course I remember, El,” you laughed. “How could I forget?”

How could you forget? It was a humid summer afternoon, shortly after Ellie had turned sixteen. You had snuck out of Jackson to explore a creek you had found the day prior on group patrol. You so badly wanted to show Ellie, to share every part of you with her. You didn't know what to call it, but you assumed it was just because you were really good friends. 

The soft rush of the water and the gentle breeze across your skin contrasted to the beating sun plastering your hair to your skin. You and Ellie sat with your backs against a wide oak, watching minnows skip through the water. 

“Do you think animals have feelings? Like us?” Ellie thought out loud. 

You hummed, “I do, but not as complicated as ours.” 

She nodded in agreement before her eyes drifted to the source of a new sound, a gentle humming. She saw the gentle bird sucking nectar from a flower, tapping your shoulder gently and pointing. 

“Look, a hummingbird,” she whispered.

“Woah!” You beamed, “I’ve only seen them in those nature books in the library. That's so cool. Did you know the sound actually comes from its wings?” 

As you watched the hummingbird, she watched you. “It’s really pretty.”

You agreed. She said your name, but looked away from you. 

“Yeah?”

“I think I like girls.”

You let the words settle in the air. 

“I think I do too.”

It was the first indication that something else could happen between you and her, something less platonic than you would've thought. After that, neither of you said anything about it, confident in the fact that something more could exist in the spaces between. 

It was the same confidence you had today as you followed her through the Wyoming woods, putting your trust in her. You took the same path almost every time you went out on patrol, knowing your way around, knowing the landmarks of the area. You knew you were getting close to the danger zone when you saw your favourite tree, the one you and Ellie would lean against by the creek, telling each other secrets into the night, crossing your heart to never tell another soul. Each of you knew that the other’s soul was the only one that mattered, anyways. 

It was just over a year ago that you’d both carved your initials into that tree, reminders of that early morning on patrol bringing a smile to your face. 

You had stopped for a moment to take a short break against the tree, letting your horses get some rest. Ellie leaned up against the tree as you pet Shimmer. The sun shone despite the snow and the brisk weather, illuminating your features gently. She admired the curve of your lips and the shape of your eyes, imagining her fingers tracing your skin under lamplight late at night. You looked up at her when your name tumbled from her lips. 

“Yeah?” You said, continuing to pet Shimmer.

“I like you.”

The air stilled and your hand faltered, breath hitching. But what if she didn’t mean it like that? 

You forced a laugh. “Well, I’d hope so. We’ve been friends for how long?”

“No, I…” she struggled for the right words. “I want to be more than friends. I like you. Like…romantically. And stuff.”

She played with her fingers, shuffling her feet back and forth in the snow, not meeting your gaze. 

“Ellie, look at me. Please,” you whispered. She raised her eyes to yours, but still kept her head low, not bringing it up until your hand cupped her jaw. She moved her hand on top of yours, trapping it there, wondering if it was just a dream. 

She closed her eyes tight when she saw you leaning in, praying that you weren't messing with her. When she finally felt your lips ghosting across hers, she leaned into you. Your touch was fire on her skin, leaving a red blush in its wake. She pressed your mouth to hers hungrily, never wanting this to end. 

“I like you too,” you mumbled against her lips. 

When you finally broke for air, chests heaving, you were both beaming. Ellie nervously reached into her pocket for her pocket knife, flicking it open. She held the blade against the bark of the tree, grabbing our hand and putting it on the hilt, sliding hers over top of it. 

She guided your hand as you carved your initials into the tree, trapping them inside of a heart. It was cliche, but it meant everything to you. 

It was the same tree that, a year later, you and Ellie passed on almost every patrol. The same tree that symbolized your everlasting love for each other. The same tree that stood since the dawn of your and Ellie’s time. 

You rode casually in comfortable silence until you got to the watchtower, negative memories plaguing both you and Ellie. The floorboards still held the echoes of your voices yelling, still soaked in your tears. 

Four months ago, when the rabbits were still brown and the path was clear of snow, you'd come through this watchtower to find two clickers. It caught you both off guard, as Jesse and Dina had just cleared it as safe the day before. 

Ellie, always being the hero, snuck up behind one, taking it out easily, and lunged at the other. The second one, however, pinned her to the ground, and she held it by the neck, its arms clawing hers. 

The sound of your pistol rang out as the body slumped on top of Ellie. She rolled it off and got up from the ground, chest heaving. 

“Well,” she said, brushing dirt from her jeans, “that was pretty close. Thanks.”

When you didn't respond, she turned to see you standing with your pistol still in both hands, brows furrowed as you watched the dead body of the clicker intently. She called your name. 

“What is it?”

You shook your head. 

“Come on, tell me-”

“Every fucking time, Ellie,” you said, shoving your pistol back in your pocket and turning away from her. “Why do you have to run head-first into danger like that every time?”

She didn't say anything, gaze on your back as she watched you turn back around. 

“What would I have done if you had gotten bit?” You said, voice a little watery. “Say something.”

She stumbled over her words, not knowing what to say. “I don't try to, you know, it’s just…” she sighed.

“You know, Ellie, sometimes I think that I value your life more than you do.”

The words hung in the air between you two, both of you knowing that you were right. Knowing that she could've been more, done so much more, saved so many people. But she was stripped of that. So what kind of meaning could she give to her life? What did she really have to live for? Before Joel, she never really had someone she knew would care if she died. Now she had you, and she didn't know how her recklessness would affect you. Now she did. 

“Okay, you're right. I’m too reckless. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll start thinking before I react,” she said, voice softening. 

You huffed, “I just worry about you, El. I don't know what I’d do without you.”

She hugged you tight, letting you nuzzle into her chest. She knew how you felt. Before you, she was hopeless. She didn't see a point in doing anything if her life couldn't be used by someone. What was it all for? Everything she'd struggled through? All she'd suffered? 

Now she knew that she was forced to experience it all so that she could end up with you. And she’d do it a million times over. 

She breathed your name. “I need to tell you something.”

You pulled away from her, “Well that's one way to start a conversation.”

She laughed nervously. “No, it's nothing bad. It's just…it might be hard to swallow.”

She gestured at an old, ratty chair. You sat and watched her intently. 

She took a deep breath, drawing it into her lungs and releasing it. “Do you remember why I got my tattoo?”

“Yeah, to cover up that chemical burn.”

“I lied,” she said. “That's not why I got the tattoo.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, silently begging her to go on. 

“When I was fourteen, I was bitten. On my arm.”

You sat back in your chair. 

“I waited and waited for my mind to go, for my body to go, for anything to happen, but it never did. So…I’m immune, or whatever,” she said, searching for a reaction. 

Seconds of silence passed. It was shattered with a laugh.

“That's a good one, Ellie. Real funny.”

“It’s true! Ask Joel. Tommy. Maria. They're the only ones who know…”

“And you expect me to believe this?”

“Just trust me. Please. It's all I ask, is for you to trust my word. Why would I lie to you about this?” She pleaded. 

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because Joel thinks it's dangerous for people to know. That's how we met, you know. He was hired to get me to the fireflies…they were going to make a cure,” she said, voice trailing off towards the end. 

“It didn't work, I take it?”

She shook her head. “Joel says they didn't need me.” Joel says. 

“Okay,” you said, making her look up at you. “I believe you. But that doesn't mean I’m fine with you running head-first into infected like that again. Just because you're…immune, doesn't mean you can't be torn apart. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said, crouching in front of you and putting her hands on your thighs. “God, I love you.”

You cleared out the watchtower and made your way back to the path. This part was one of your favourites, winding through the mountains. Your horses trotted casually beside each other. 

“Okay, okay, here's one: What do you say when a chef dies?” 

“Oh god, I don't know?”

“He pasta-way!” She said, giggling before she could even say the answer. 

Her laughter was contagious, sending it bubbling through your chest. “That's so bad that it's good.”

“Come on, just admit that I’m a top-notch comedian. If the world wouldn't have ended, I’d’ve been up there with Dave Chapelle.”

“Who’s Dave Chapelle?”

“I don't actually know. Some old ass comedian Joel told me about.”

You both laughed, smiles painted across your faces. However, the giggles subsided as you felt your horse start to shake slightly. 

“Woah, Shimmer, you okay girl?” Ellie said, patting her side. 

“Beau’s shaking too.”

“Maybe they’ve got…I don't know, a cold or something? Can horses even get colds?” You shrugged. “Maybe we should let them rest for a bit.”

You agreed, dismounting your horse and planting your feet on the ground. The shaking underneath you didn’t stop. You looked at Ellie, who looked at the mountain behind you. She yelled your name as you looked behind you.

A loud, grating noise sounded as you watched the earth of the mountain loosen from its side, rocks and boulders tumbling from it, falling in your direction. 

You hurriedly mounted your horses again, kicking their ribs to get them to go. You rode as fast as you could, attempting to beat the oncoming landslide. You'd never seen one before, only heard stories and read of them in books. You were about three quarters of the way through the mountain range when the land detached from the mountain and began to slide. 

“Go, go, go!” You yelled, Ellie a few feet ahead of you as her horse was younger than Beau. She glanced behind her every few seconds to make sure you were still there. 

The rocks falling created a settlement of dust around you, making it increasingly harder to breathe. You finally saw the green clearing outside of the mountain range. Almost there. 

The grating noise died, and you peered behind you to see the path completely covered in rubble. A few boulders still tumbled from the mountain, or whatever was left of it. 

“Watch out!” Ellie yelled. You looked to your right, seeing a massive boulder rolling down the mountain, coming right for you. 

You acted before you could think, much like Ellie, and propelled yourself forward off your horse as the boulder hit Beau and rolled atop of his body. You landed on the ground near Ellie, propping yourself up on your elbows to gawk at the sight. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, running to Beau. His body was mangled, bones sticking out of the skin and blood painting the grass. You felt like vomiting. 

Ellie dismounted her horse, still shaking from the adrenaline, and put her hands on your shoulders, attempting to get you standing. 

“Wait,” you said, leaning back down, planting a teary kiss on Beau's muzzle. 

You stood, holding her tight. “Let's never come through here again.”

“Don't think we can, sweetheart,” she said, looking back at the obstruction. “Come on, we've gotta find a new way back home.”

She was about to help you mount Shimmer when you both froze in your tracks. A low, husky groan rung out through the air, scaring Shimmer. She ran into the clearing out of fright. 

“Shit,” Ellie breathed. 

“We’ll find her later. Come on, we have to go. It's either a bloater or a shambler, and I don't really want to stick around to find out.” 

You turned to leave when the ground shook again. You turned around, looking back at the mountain. It wasn't the mountain shaking this time. Spewing through the hole the landslide left like spiders were hundreds—if not thousands—of infected. Clickers, runners, stalkers, bloaters, shamblers. Everything. 

There was no way you were making it out of this unless you legged it now. 

In unison, you and Ellie started sprinting to your last checkpoint— the old cabin. You ran faster than you ever had before, the sounds of hungry infected hot on your heels. You couldn't feel your legs, the burning in your flesh too intense. When the cabin finally came into view, you couldn't even allow yourself a breath of relief. You and Ellie had your guns out, shooting behind you as you ran, picking off as many infected as you could. When you were close enough to the cabin, the idea hit you. You knew that the creaky boards of the cabin wouldn't hold that many infected off. You knew what you had to do. 

“Ellie, cover me!” You yelled as you slung your backpack off your shoulder and grabbed what you'd need. You grabbed an old bottle of whiskey you and Ellie had found at the watchtower and a rag. Stuffing the rag in the bottle, you lit it with your lighter. 

In the ten seconds it took you to do this, the infected crept closer and closer to you. Ellie tried picking off as many as she could, keeping them away from you. Until her magazine ran out. 

You threw the molotov in front of the hoard of infected. It exploded, creating a wall of fire between you and your death. 

Until a single clicker went at you from the side. The light of the fire flickered in your irises and cast an orange glow across your face, and you didn't even hear it creeping up amidst the roar of the flames. You didn't even hear Ellie yell your name. 

It tackled you to the ground before you could even turn your head all the way, talons scratching your arms and legs, sinking into your stomach. Its jaw was inches away from your neck, begging to gnaw on your jugular. In the struggle for your life, you couldn't even tell where you were and weren't hurt, what was bleeding and what wasn't. 

Blood gushed into your hair and eyes as you watched Ellie slice its head clean off with her pocketknife. The same one you'd carved your initials into that old oak with. 

Something inside of you rattled knowing that something could be used so innocently and yet so dangerously. 

Ellie picked you up from the ground and helped you limp into the cabin, reeds of grass tickling your wounds. When you entered, you stood in the centre of the room as she barricaded the entrances. 

“There,” she said, returning to you. You were both coming off adrenaline, suddenly feeling the ache in your bones to an indescribable extent. 

You put your hands on your knees and leaned on them, heaving a little. “Ellie. We were so close.”

She just nodded in understanding. Her eyes survey you from top to bottom. You had a scratch across your cheek, a few minor lacerations across your arms and chest, and a few on your legs. She couldn't see any bites. 

You brought your right arm up to run it shakily through your hair. That's when she saw it, brutal and bloody, painted into your skin like a brand. One that would decide your fate. Except that it had already been decided. 

The sight of the bite on your forearm turned her stomach. She blinked over and over again, hoping that she was seeing wrong. Maybe she was still coming off of adrenaline. “Your arm…” she breathed. 

“What?” You asked, confused. You looked over your left, then your right, and…oh. “Oh.”

The silence was deafening. It wasn't like you'd been badly injured, still with a sliver of possibility for recovery. No, this bite sealed your fate. 

In the next day, you were going to become something Ellie had to detest. Something she had to kill. 

You felt the bile rise in your throat just in time to grab a decayed flower pot. You choked out everything in your stomach and more.

Ellie grabbed her stomach as she felt her body start to shake, that feeling creeping up her spine again. Her breath felt like it was being siphoned out of her. She needed air, but her lungs would not take any in. She hyperventilated as she threw herself back against the wall, legs giving out. 

A sweat broke out across her body, knowing that she's losing you tonight. 

Her mind shoved memories into her vision that she swore to never bring up again. 

“There're a million ways we should've died before today. And a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But we fight…for every second we get to spend with each other. Whether it's two minutes…or two days. We don't give that up.”

She remembers the small, impossible slice of hope in Riley’s eyes, one that she knew was futile. Riley was her first love. She thought they were both going to die. She felt…horrible. You would be her last love, though she knew only you were fated to die. She knew she would die too. 

Your voice calling her name broke her out of her fit. One look at you wiping your face and shaking was enough to make her want to break something, anything. 

“Ellie,” you called. She stood and began pacing, running her hands over her face. “Ellie, stop it.”

“There's gotta be…there has to…we need…” she babbled, still pacing. An idea clicked, “give me your arm.”

You held out your shaking arm to your lover, expecting her to inspect the area. Instead, she took out her pocket knife and pressed the blade into her hand without any hesitation. 

“Ellie! What the fuck?!” You said, trying to stop her hand from bleeding. 

“Give me your arm,” she said firmly, a major contrast from before. When you hesitated, her hard gaze met yours. Her eyes softened when she saw the fear in your eyes. “Please,” she whispered. 

You gave her your arm and let her rub her blood into the bite. 

She took your arm and rubbed the blood into the bite knowing it wouldn’t work. 

It wouldn't work on you. 

She knew that. 

She tried anyway.

As she massaged the blood as deep into the wound as she could get, all she could think about was that she would've been able to save you if they made the cure. Her life would've had meaning, so much meaning. She would've been able to cure you from this. But she was helpless, cursed to watch you suffer. 

“Ellie,” you said, putting your hand atop hers to get her to stop and look at you. She could see in your eyes that you just needed to be close to her in that moment. She needed it too, needed to be impossibly closer as to grip into you forever. 

She buried her head into your neck and you did the same, holding your breath. For if you breathed, time would pass. If time passed, you'd be gone. 

You don't know how long you held each other like that, but it was long enough that your legs nearly collapsed with exhaustion. You were the first to speak. 

“I need you to promise me something,” you whispered. 

Ellie knew what you were going to say before the words left your mouth. 

“No-” she began pulling away from you, but you squeezed her tighter. 

“When it starts to happen…when I can feel it, I’m going to take my gun-”

“Stop it-”

“-and I’m going to go outside. You’ll know it's over-”

“-Stop-”

“-when you hear it. Just promise me you won't look.”

“Stop, please,” she begs, tears brimming in her eyes again. She takes a step back from you and turns around. 

“Promise me.”

The words get caught in her throat. Her lip trembles. “Okay.”

Outside, rain starts to fall softly, tapping against the rotting wood of the cabin. 

She breaks the new silence. “I should've been there. I should've taken my rifle out, anything-”

“El, it's not your fault. Look at me,” you say. She looks at you over her shoulder. You nearly crumble at her red eyes and wet cheeks. “Never blame yourself. You hear me?”

She just squeezes her eyes shut, willing for this to all go away. 

You walk to her, putting your hands on her shoulders and leaning your forehead against her back. You tried not to look at the bite. 

“Ellie.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you give me one last good night?”

The soft pattering of the rain against the wood, trickling off the roof and into the ground. 

“Please?”

She says nothing, instead turning around and gently capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bloodied hands find her wet cheeks, noting that the tears haven't stopped. 

Ellie wanted to give you everything you wanted and more, and she had sworn she would from the moment she met you. If this was the last thing you ever asked from her, she would give it to you. 

But it was so unbelievably hard knowing that this time would be your last. 

She pushed you back against the wall, nearly devouring you. The salty mix of your tears and hers slipped into the kiss, but you didn't care. She moved her hand down to cup you where you wanted her.

You bucked your hips into the friction, already needing her. You began to undo your belt, but Ellie’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” She said, voice gravelly. 

“Yes, El,” you said. “I don't know where I’ll be tomorrow, or…what I’ll be,” she let out a shaky breath, “but I know I want to be with you right now.”

She sniffled and nodded, getting on her knees to take your belt off. She threw it to the side, unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down along with your panties. You opened your legs wider for her.

She ran two fingers through your slit before sinking one into your hole, tongue giving kitten licks to your folds. 

You could tell that she wasn't going to be as vocal as usual. 

You couldn't really blame her. 

You whimpered as she added another finger, pumping them in and out of you, filling the air with obscene sounds. She lapped at your cunt, trying her hardest to give you what you want. 

“Ellie, don't stop,” you moaned, whimpering when she used her other arm to hold your hips down against the wall. “Almost there.”

You could feel the coil tightening inside if you quickly, your climax coming in record time. You thought for a moment that it was because of how sensitive you were in this moment. 

You moaned wantonly and grabbed her hair as you came, her tongue working on your clit and her fingers scissoring you open. 

You expected her to stop, but she kept going. In fact, she added a third finger. 

You heard her moan into your pussy, looking down to find her grinding into the floor, a wet spot forming on her jeans. She was so messy, your juices coating her face, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair, rutting into nothing and moaning into your cunt. 

When the fabric of her jeans caught her clit just right, she took her mouth of your pussy, replacing it with her thumb instead, and leaned her forehead against your stomach. You came with her from the sensitivity, both of your moans filling the air, pleading for more. 

When she laid you down on a thin blanket from her backpack and undressed both of you, you noted the scared look in her eyes. The way she looked at you, drinking you in, knowing this would be your last time together. Some part of you wished that neither of you knew about the bite, that you didn't have to treat this so differently. That you could enjoy it. Enjoy your last moments together.

She threw her leg over yours, kissing you messily, yet softly, as she ground into you, folds slotting against each other. You both moaned each time your clits touched. 

As she grew closer to her climax, she buried her face into your neck. You tried to ignore the feeling of her tears trickling down and pooling at your nape. 

You came together. You moaned, but she cried out, more guttural than you'd ever heard from her. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you—!” she cried into your neck as she came. 

When you slowed down, she held you like that without words. 

“I love you too, Ellie,” you whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the rain. 

You held each other as the sun set, through the night, and through the rain. 

The golden rays of the sun shone through the cracks in the walls and shudders, dancing across her bare body pressed into your side. Hours ago, her body had stopped shaking and her tears stopped spilling onto your chest, your hands running patterns across her skin lulling her into an exhausted sleep. 

Your eyes had never closed, however. You knew you wanted to be awake to feel it happening, to know when you were losing control over your body. For Ellie’s sake. 

The rain had stopped and the clouds were cleared. Birds sang outside and all the animals went about their day. You thought it strange that the world would continue on without you, that people will age and new ones will be born, that people will die and people will forget about you in time. Your impermanence had never struck you as hard as it did now. 

You felt the twitching in your feet first, unnoticeable at first, but is it crawled up your limbs, you knew it was happening. It happened over three or four hours, and once you felt your neck jerk the first time, you knew. 

Your blood didn't feel like your own anymore, like someone exsanguinated it and replaced it with jelly, slowing you down. Your vision wasn't gone, but you couldn't focus it on anything. It constantly sounded like you were underwater, drowning, gasping for air to no avail. 

Your eyes hardly left the woman in your arms, clinging to you even in sleep. You know she'd curse herself for falling asleep, but you were thankful for it. You were thankful that you could press a tearful kiss to her forehead before gently escaping her grasp, muffling your sobs behind your hand. You threw your shirt and jeans on quietly, dizzy, slipping your shoes on. Your world spun, your lungs burned, your head throbbed. 

You picked up your pistol, watching Ellie stir slightly in her sleep, creamy skin illuminated in the sun, her freckled face creased slightly with worry, even in sleep. You put the gun in your pocket. 

You tried, as silently as you could, to move the barricade from the door. You were thankful that she was a heavy sleeper. 

You were thankful that you didn't have to see the despair in her eyes when you said a forceful goodbye, thankful that you didn't have to convince her to let you go, thankful that your last memory of her was this, thankful that her last memory of you was bliss. 

Through your sobs, you squeezed through the door and shut it behind you, leaning your head against it, willing for this all to be a nightmare. It wasn't, because you started to feel something else take over your will. 

Before you could lose it completely, you forced yourself into a dense brush of greenery, somewhere you hoped she wouldn't look. 

You panted, sweating, trembling, as you took the pistol out of your pocket. It shook with your hand as you held it to your temple, bright eyes taking in all of the world that you could before it was gone. 

You squeezed them tightly, willing yourself to stop shaking. You conjured the image of your lover in your mind, her auburn hair, milky skin, pretty green eyes, and those familiar freckles. How could you ever forget her?

You took a breath in, and breathed out: “I love you.”

Ellie sat up in terror when she heard the sound of a single gunshot ring through the air, seeping in through the cracks of the window and underneath the door. It took her a moment to process what it was, reaching for her pistol next to her discarded clothes. When her fingertips brushed the gun, it settled in. She craned her head to look beside her, half expecting you to still be asleep. 

When she remembered what the sound of the gunshot meant, what you had made her promise, her lungs collapsed and she couldn't take any air in. Tears spilled from her eyes as she heaved, clawing at her chest for any relief. It didn't come. 

She knew it never would.

When Joel got word that you and Ellie still hadn't returned from patrol, he worried that you'd gotten stuck in the landslide. He pleaded with Tommy and Jesse to go out with him to search, knowing he wouldn't be at peace without knowing what happened. 

When the two agreed, they set off on horses to clear all of the checkpoints. It took an extra day to get around the mountain range that was blocked off by rubble. 

When they only had one more checkpoint to clear, Joel got increasingly worried. If you weren't here, where were you?

When the three men got to the cabin, they held their breath as they dismounted their horses. Joel tried pushing the door open, but the barricade stopped him. It took the three of them to open the door, pushing the barricade out of the way. 

The open door shed light on the figure against the back wall covered in a thin blanket, trembling. Joel let out the breath he was holding in when he saw Ellie. She was clutching your backpack to her chest, trying to keep any remaining part of you alive, hers. 

She had hardly noticed Joel pick her up and carry her to his horse, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to see the world without you in it. 

“Ellie,” Joel’s gruff voice intruded her thoughts, “where is she?”

Ellie’s words failed her. All she could do was point to her forearm, to the bite that only Joel and Tommy knew hid underneath the tattoo. 

She doesn't remember what happened after that. 

It was warmer now, the flowers blossoming and the green coming back to Jackson’s landscape. Ellie sat facing your headstone, wishing you could've seen it. Wishing she could've shown it to you. 

“It’s summer now,” she began. “We started planting these new flowers in your garden…Joel thinks you would've liked them. I think so too. They're really colourful…you know.”

She hesitated.

“Sometimes I wonder if you can hear me. Or if I’m just talking to myself like a crazy person. Joel says it's good for me. I don't know if I believe him.”

She played with her hands, tracing her tattoo. 

“I wish you were still here,” she whispered. Her eyes drifted over all the flowers left by your grave from all the people who loved you. 

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched a pretty red hummingbird land on your grave, searching for pollen in the flowers.

ellie taglist:

@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap @wrendermedone @kissyslut @felsweb

permanent taglist:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

[not-magdi]

"Chocolates"

Warnings: smut, 18+

Summary: You and Pablo try out some special chocolates

Word Count: 1k

Reading Time: 4 min

A/N

This whole thing is actually not my idea, it was @amaranthineghost idea so all credits go to her and her post.

Hope you enjoy it, love you guys Magdi <3

---------

Pablo's body felt like it was on fire. Every muscle in his body longed for her. He didn't even know it was possible to feel so turned on as he currently is. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he looked over at you, hoping to see the same effect on you.

He shuddered when he glanced at you and found you sitting on the couch, looking completely unbothered like these damm chocolates didn't even do anything to you.

When you saw a video of a couple trying out these unique chocolates, you knew you wanted to try these things with Pablo, too. You two have been trying out new things in the bedroom lately. Not that there was anything wrong with your sex life, but you two are young and want to experiment a bit.

As you first came to him with the idea, he just smiled and waved you off, not believing a piece of chocolate could have such an effect on him. So you ordered them and made a challenge out of it. The one who lasts longer has total control afterwards.

Still not believing these things work, Pablo agreed instantly. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated things, so he wasn't worried he had to give away the control tonight.

Oh, how he cursed himself for making this bet now. He was slowly losing his mind. It was only ten minutes since you split one of these little squares. Little beads of sweat collected on his forehead as his sweatpants became tighter with every second.

He thought you didn't see him struggling so badly, but you did. You acknowledged every movement of his, every little huff he let out as he adjusted himself again. You had a perfect look at him from your peripheral vision, your phone screen long dark, you only had your eyes on him.

You would lie when you'd say you weren't affected at all. The warmth between your legs was growing stronger and stronger. You were just better at hiding it.

Pablo, on the other hand, was close to exploding. Because you just had to wear his favourite pair of shorts you own and one of his old jerseys with his name on the back.

The images that were flooding his mind were everything but PG13. As much as he tried to stop it, he couldn't. Pictures of you on your knees before him, his hands in your hair as his cock was buried deep down in your throat.

A choked sound left his lips as he bucked his hips up into nothing to get at least a bit of friction.

Smirking, you sit up, looking into his eyes with a smug expression, "You giving up?"

His face flushes bright red, "N-no I'm fine, totally fine."

"Ok, if you say so." Shrugging, you lay yourself on your stomach before him. Now, Pablo had a great look at how good your ass looks in those shorts.

Groaning loudly, he finally admits defeat. "Baby, come here, now."

Smirking, you stand up and walk over to him, making sure to sway your hips while walking. Now standing between his legs, you wrap your arms around his neck and close the distance between you two.

Feeling her soft, chapped lips against his own made every muscle shiver. God, how he missed that feeling. Almost like an instinct, his hands ran down her spine and flattened against her ass. Applying some force, he urged you to curl your body against his.

Finally, having her sitting where he needed her the most drew a sinful sound from his lips. "You like that baby? Huh, you like having me in your lap?"

Pablo's grip on you got tighter, moving you gently on his dick. "Mhm you know I love it, Amor." He whispered into your ear.

You two continued to share passionate kisses as you gradually became less clothed. Now, only in your underwear, Pablo moves to go on top of you, but you stop him.

"Hey, you lost the bet. I'm on top tonight."

Letting out a huff, Pablo moves to sit up again and guides you on his lap. Both of you let out a hiss as your core brushes over his clothed dick. You start to brush soft kisses all over his necked chest. While your hand slowly moves downwards, scratching his abs slightly with your nails.

"Mhm, fuck Y/N!" Your hand finally disappears beneath the cotton of his boxers. Pablo sucked in a sharp breath as you griped him in and slowly started to massage him.

Pushing his underwear down his thighs, you climb up again after removing your panties. Locking your eyes with Pablo, you slowly sink down on his length, letting out a loud whimper when he is bottoming you out.

Pablo's hands grip your hips tightly while he leaves wet kisses all over your collarbones. You start to move gently up and down, increasing your pace gradually.

Your nails claw into his back as Pablo starts to thrust upwards into you, your breath hitching with every thrust. Arching your back a bit makes Pablo hit your G-spot with every thrust.

"Shit Pablo, right there!"

"Right here, baby? Yeah, does that feel good?"

Your words coiled in your throat. The only answer you can give are high-pitched moans right into Pablo's ear.

Feeling the coil in his stomach get tighter and tighter, Pablo reaches down to rub your clit. Wanting you to come before him.

Pablo's finger flicking aggressively on your clit was the last thing you needed to cum. Clenching hard around him, you release your juices all over his lap, squirming at the overstimulation.

Grunting loudly, Pablo feels your walls clenching around him and shoots his load deep into you.

You two bask in the afterglow of two amazing orgasms for a few minutes until Pablo picks you up and carries you to the bathroom.

"You ok, Amor?"

Cuddling yourself deeper into his strong arms, you nod. "I'm good, and I love you."

Pablo giggles and snuggles you into the soft blanket of your bed. You were always becoming a big softie after sex, and Pablo thought it was the cutest thing ever.

Cuddling himself next to you, he grabs you and snuggles his face into your neck.

"Goodnight bebé, I love you."

"I love you too."

----

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome!! ❤️

[mistywaves98]

Hi! I love your writing. I was wondering if I could request Wanderer with a sub afab reader with a degradation kink please 🙏. If not, feel free to ignore.

✧･ﾟ:* ->Wanderer x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Degradation, Modern AU, Phone sex, You call him Scara, Ending is bad, I wrote this while half asleep, Some praise, Fingering (yourself)!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

Your boyfriend was away on a business trip that was supposed to last a few weeks and while you didn't object at first, after the first week or so you had to admit that his absence was making you lonely.

That also meant you had to rely on yourself for pleasure but no amount of toys or your fingers could make yourself climax like he did. Hell, you couldn't even orgasm in the first place. By the end of the second week you were extremely pent up and frustrated. You missed everything about him, his face, his fingers, his voice, his cock...

It didn't take long for you to finally open his contact and press call. He answered almost instantaneously and you felt your heart flutter when you heard his soft voice through the device next to your ear.

"Hello?" "Scara, I miss you so much...you've been gone for so long!" He smiled at your longing tone full of indignation before replying, his voice holding a teasing lilt to it,"I miss you too, baby, even though it's only been two weeks—" "Two weeks is a very, very long time for you to be away!" You couldn't help but cut him off, scoffing as he merely laughed in amusement at your annoyance, finding it cute how badly you wanted him to be by your side again. "Alright alright, just hold on a little longer, I'll be home before you know it. In the meantime, tell me about your day."

And so he patiently listened to you ramble on about the things that happened while he was gone, occasionally throwing in a snide comment here and there. You took a deep breath as you finished, asking him about how things were on his end. As you listened to your boyfriend talk, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. Soon you completely lost track of the things he was saying, focusing on how smooth and sexy his voice sounded. The low rasp in his tone only made more blood rush to your cheeks as all the pent up feelings you surpressed made their way to the surface.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together as arousal pooled between them. Your mind became clouded as you imagined him whispering the filthiest things right next to your ear in that same tone. One of your hands kept holding the phone as the other made it's way down your body, teasing the waistband of your pants before slipping in. You shuddered as your fingers made contact with your soaked pussy. When did you get so turned on...?

Carefully, you circled your thumb around your clit as your middle and ring finger prodded your leaking hole. Your teeth dug into your lower lip even harder as you slowly pushed them past your folds, resisting the urge clamp your thighs around your hand. Your hand that was holding your phone trembled as you struggled to hold back your moans. The sound of his voice only made you wetter as you pumped your digits in and out of yourself at a steady pace.

You were so caught up in your pleasure, that you didn't even realize Scaramouche had stopped talking. It wasn't until you heard him inquiring about your state that you snapped out of your blissed out state,"[Name]? Are you still there?" "O-oh! I'm fine, just...keep talking, please..." Needless to say, your boyfriend was a bit baffled by your request, but he complied anyway. The more he spoke, the closer you felt to finally reaching orgasm for the first time in weeks. Your fingers' pace quickened as you found it increasingly difficult to stay quiet.

Even moving the phone away from your ear a bit did not stop him from hearing the heavy pants and muffled whimpers in the background, which caused some suspicions to raise. "Are you sure everything's alright, [Name]?" "I-I told you, I'm fine! Keep talking...I'm almost there..." He wasn't stupid and that sentence told him everything he needed to know. A smug smile graced his features as he put and two together.

"I see how it is..." "Wh—" "I can here your slutty moans clearly. I didn't realize that my pretty little girlfriend was such a desperate whore, that she'd resort to fucking herself on her fingers to the sound of my voice. You really missed me that much, huh?" "..I did..." You could barely answer between your moans. God, hearing talk like that to you was so hot. You could feel yourself clenching tightly around your fingers. You were getting close... "It's okay. I bet you've missed my cock too, you wish I was there to fill your needy pussy with my cum, hm?" He continues to praise and degrade you over the phone in that sultry tone you love so much.

"I'm sure you haven't been able to make yourself cum once since I left. It's so adorable to see how you need merely the sound of my voice to get yourself off. You'd literally be hopeless without me. Now keep thrusting those fingers into that pretty pussy, I want you to cum hard around them," And so you did, sweet cries sounding from the speaker of his phone as you quicken your pace, eyes rolling back into your head from the pleasure. The way your moans' pitch heightened told him that you were teetering on the edge of orgasm, so he continued to coax you,"Just like that, gush all over those dainty fingers for me."

You didn't need to be told twice. Your moan of ecstasy echoed through the dark room as your juices coated your fingers, soaking through your clothes and dripping onto the sheets below. You rode out your high until your breathing evened out slightly and you pulled your soaked digits out of your tight cunt, making you miss the feeling of being stuffed. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you heard his low laugh on the other end of the line,"Oh, how I wish I was there to see your face contort into that whorish expression I love so much. I bet you still want more, right? My slut wants me to be there, fucking her dumb on my cock?" You nod your head enthusiastically as you answer even though he isn't even there to see, but you're just that eager.

"Of course a slutty bitch like you wants my cock, if I was there with you, I'd make you get on your knees and make you worship it all night while making you finger yourself so that I can watch for my own amusement." The image makes your head spin and you swear that your inner thighs became even more messy with slick. "You're so wet now, aren't you? Want me to grab your hair and use your throat like my personal fucktoy?"

Your only responses are either longing whines or quiet 'yes's as he dirty talks to you over the phone, making promises of fucking you nice and hard when he gets back to make up for his absence which only makes you even more impatient for his return. Eventually, he has to go so you reluctantly hang up the phone before getting up to clean up. After that, you curl up on the bed, hugging the pillow he always sleeps on as you drift off to sleep.

[greenandsorrow]

IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> For technical reasons (for the plot to continue plotting), this chap focuses mostly on the past! Another thing... I appreciate your feedback and comments more than you realise, so don't hesitate to interact with my fics 🥺❣️

-> It's giving Stockholm Syndrome, I'm aware, but that's why it's called fanFICTION.

-> I think it's funny how each chapter turns longer than the last. I'm getting hooked to my own writing I guess.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Ilomilo by Billie Eilish

~ 3 ~

Pennywise's POV 🎈

For five long years he has stayed awake, stalking the streets of Derry... waiting. Pennywise's usual cycle -hibernating after a killing and terrorizing spree- has been disrupted. This time, something -someone- kept him from descending to the deep slumber he usually craves.

He can't fully understand it, but it's because of you -the spark, the tug of connection he isn't familiar with. He's hunted countless children without a second thought. But with you... When he had expected you to cower and break, instead, you had resisted, you had played his twisted games and stared back at him without losing your soul. You had made him so curious. And that curiosity has gnawed at him enough to eat away at his rest, putting him in a sort of restless trance.

Every time he tries to slip beneath the Earth and to return to the darkness he came from, he feels a pull, a shudder that makes him cling to the surface for just a little more, for just another silly, little, stupid, meek year.

But as the years have been slipping by, something else has shifted in him as well -a subtle thing that feels almost like restraint. He still lurks in the shadows, his instincts are still telling him to frighten and to feed… but each time he sees you, that impulse falters. Instead of scaring you, he finds himself watching, almost guarding you from afar.

It feels a twinge of protectiveness -an urge that should definitely not exist in a creature made to hunt and devour. It doesn't get it, doesn't know why It lingers to ensure no danger befalls you, before It vanishes for the usual twenty-seven years. Almost as though, Pennywise the Clown is bound to you by something unexplainable, something that's kept him from retreating to sleep.

And It hates it.

The longer Pennywise watches, the more he wishes he didn't feel this way. But when he does try to stir up the familiar darkness within his core, it's dulled and quieted. All he knows is that his hunger has been overpowered by something else, something… protective.

And this fact is as unnatural as it is inappropriate, for no other than The Eater of Worlds.

1979 Derry, Maine

"Let's play another game..! I... There is... There's one we haven't played!"

The door creaked open and the clown stepped inside with a look you had never seen before on him. He wasn't smiling, wasn't performing... he was serious, unsettlingly so. A reminder that Pennywise wasn't -and isn't- a real clown, not in the way he pretends to be. Drool slipped from his red lips, glistening in the early morning light filtering through a crooked and badly shut window. He had probably just interrupted his breakfast -maybe to see you- and the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

"What kind of game?" his voice rumbled low, sending a chill across your skin. Your stomach tightened and you swallowed down the bile that rose. His piercing, yellow gaze left you feeling exposed.

You struggled to think of something, anything that could buy you more time. You had to say something, or else he would just get pissed and maybe have you for breakfast, instead of the one he was -so rudely- interrupted from.

"The first one to… If I can name one friend before you do, I get to leave. If you win… You get to do whatever you want with me." You knew you were cornered, but the words had come out anyway.

A strange look flickered across his face.

"What's your name?"

You frowned at what sounded like an absurd thing to ask out of the blue. "Y/n."

He giggled.

"Oh really?! And I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown! Now we've both properly introduced ourselves... We can be friends!!!"

The point of the game was for you to win... but he just had to be a smartass.

"WE CAN'T- CAN'T BE FRIENDS!"

Pennywise pouted, almost like a child who's just been told no. You could see the contradiction in him as he considered your words -a clown who loves games, whose eyes practically gleam with excitement... and yet a predator who's always calculating, always one step ahead, keeping his prey exactly where he wants it. He knew you had just tried to outsmart him, yet he stepped closer, drawn in by the idea of another game. Your captor knew way more about you than you had realized -he had been watching you long before he had decided to 'kidnap' you.

Actually, your desperate answer made him leave his spot by the doorframe and advance toward you, crouching down to your eye level. You were paralyzed in fear he could probably smell. Even while holding your breath, you could feel his own on your face... It smelled like a butcher's shop.

"Don't. Shout. At. Me."

You nodded.

His drool was still glistening.

"You're not leaving either."

Another nod.

Then, he left the room.

Later, you'd realize he had let you have your way with that idiotic game purely out of boredom -a way to break up the ancient routine It'd followed since the beginning of time. But in that moment, you were just trying to survive.

What happened next is clouded in fragments, your memory blurred by fear -or maybe it's nostalgia. Somehow, over time, you became something to him. Indeed... a friend... of sorts.

As more days passed, you dared to start speaking more freely, filling the silence between you. You'd mention that you were cold, or hungry and he would tilt his head in that curious way of his. The next day, a bag of chips might appear on the bed. Once, you coughed, your throat parched. Fortunately, you managed to murmur "water". A few hours later, there it was -water in a bowl.

You found your book -Alice in Wonderland- left in a corner of the room. You read to him, each word trembling from your lips but never letting your voice falter fully. Pennywise would sit at the edge of the bed, sometimes even curling up like a cat -making you question if he had any bones-, his gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. You were scared that when you finished reading the book, your life would end along with Alice's story.

But it didn't.

Still, sometimes you made desperate attempts to escape, bolting to the door. But he'd catch you with a taunting grin.

"Tag, you're it!" he'd chuckle, pinning you effortlessly. "Winner gets a prize!" he'd mock, as if the only reward he needed was to see your defeated face. But despite the mocking, the punishing appearances of the enormous cockroach stopped.

Even his gaze softened over time, slipping from the predator's yellow stare to an electric blue. The games also shifted -grew less cruel- and with them, so did he. He no longer seemed intent on hurting you and instead, observed you with a cautious neutrality.

Each day It brought you random bowls of food and water -most likely stolen from unsuspecting housewives... And sometimes, It would linger just outside the door, listening to your voice as you read to yourself.

One evening, you found yourself in the backyard, gazing up at a lilac sky. He had taken you there -unbeknownst to you- because he had brought a little snack inside and didn't want that to scare you.

You missed your old life with a pang that made your throat burn, a feeling so deep you didn't even notice him approaching. Without thinking, you pressed yourself into the clown's chest, burying your face against his ruffled collar. His strange scent -a mix of damp earth and something much older- washed over you and for the first time, you felt… safe with him.

He didn't hug you back, didn't mimic the gesture, but his voice murmured strange words about humans, their fragile nature and then the usual pet name he would call you: "little one".

It was then that you realized -he wouldn't hurt you. Not now. Not after all this time. But the realization broke something in you, a dam holding back all the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface.

"Y- You won. You won!" you stammered, choking back tears. "I'm your friend! Kill me now!"

You collapsed to your knees and he watched -bewildered- as tears streamed down your face. For a moment, he just stood there and watched you cry. Then, tentatively, he reached out in an almost inquisitive manner, to catch a tear with a long, white finger and taste it. He seemed to pause, reflecting on something only he could understand.

And then on another day, another attempt to escape. You had found a tiny window in the basement and tried to squeeze through it. But he noticed, his monstrous form scraping against the window's frame, shattering the glass in a frenzy to reach you.

When you saw the shards cutting into his skin... You froze, guilt flooding over you. You returned to his side while murmuring apologies, your hands trembling as you pulled the glass from his wounds, piece by piece.

He didn't attack you -just stared at you with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine. You knew in that moment, that you had crossed a line, that there was something between you that shouldn't have been there -because you could've left but didn't and because he could've killed you but didn't either.

When you finished pulling out the glass pieces, he was pouting at you. "Meanie..." he said and stuck his tongue out.

In the days that followed, Pennywise grew quieter. He watched you differently, as if seeing you with new eyes -ones that held a warmth you'd never expected. And in a way, it made you feel… comfortable. Comfortable enough that one day, you dared to reach out, brushing a hand along his white cheek.

He froze under your touch, as if unsure how to react -his usually fierce, yellow eyes softening to that strange blue. A low sound rumbled from him -somewhere between a purr and a growl- and he tilted his head, pressing into your hand like a cat, seeming almost… content.

But that wasn't right. He wasn't human and he definitely wasn't a pet. It was something ancient and boundless... and yet here It was, in its favorite form, accepting your touch and even starting to crave it. You pulled your hand away and his eyes opened, watching you in a way that felt unexpectedly intimate.

Time continued to flow onward.

You were now given strange meals in even stranger containers -a cracked bowl, a chipped mug, even a metal dish that you could have sworn was meant for a dog! He didn't seem to understand the details of human routines, didn't quite grasp what you needed beyond food and water. Yet he tried, even if it were in ways that felt utterly alien.

One evening, just as the sun began to dip, you asked if you could go outside again. You hadn't meant it as a real question, but in the morning, you found the door to the backyard unlocked.

You didn't dare leave the property, but you enjoyed how the air was fresh and the grass was soft and the sky a little cloudy. You stayed out until evening came.

Pennywise watched you from a distance, the colors of the twilight reflecting in his eyes, giving him an almost haunting beauty. He joined you, sitting in the overgrown grass... murmuring things in a language that sounded both ancient and musical, like whispers from an old spell.

In the quiet, you leaned against him, letting the stillness speak for you both. And though he didn't return the gesture, just like last time, he didn't pull away either. You looked up at the stars, feeling that deep ache for home... He patted your head in a comforting manner... and in that moment you could almost believe he was a friend.

You were just a kid, but even with your naivety, deep down you knew the truth -he was a monster that had killed before and would kill again. Yet for now, he seemed content with your presence, more curious than threatening. He tilted his head, watching you with softness in his gaze, as if pondering the mystery of your existence.

Somewhere in your heart, you felt the shift. Pennywise, the monster, had grown attached to you. And you… well, you couldn't deny the attachment had become mutual.

The days blurred together even more after that, filled with silly games, with quiet moments and fragments of a bond you could neither define nor understand.

And yet, even as you tried to push away the thought, you feared that someday he might wake up and no longer see you as friend, or even as a curiosity, but as something he was hungry for once more. Still, in the quiet of the night it felt like a small, tragic eternity -two beings from worlds apart, drawn together and held by something both tender and terrifying.

The last days in the house at Neibolt St were the strangest. Pennywise grew quiet, almost pensive, as if some hidden clock was winding down inside him. You noticed how his smiles and giggles were fading, as if the game he'd once delighted in was losing its thrill. Sometimes, he would simply watch you with an unreadable expression, his eyes that odd, bright blue that almost felt... sad.

You felt a pang of sympathy for him. For all his power and for all his malevolence, he was still somehow... alone. You had felt it in those strange moments when -almost wistfully- he'd listen to you talk and read.

The last night felt different, filled with an air of finality.

As you laid on your creaky bed, you noticed him standing in the corner of the room, like some sort of sleep paralysis demon. He was staring at you with an intensity that used to scare you three months ago. You felt the impulse to speak, but you knew he wouldn't respond. Instead, you held his gaze, feeling a strange sense of sorrow settle over you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was almost too soft to hear.

"Little one, when you leave…will you forget about me?"

The question caught you off guard and you didn't know how to answer. You wanted to tell him that you wouldn't, that everything you'd been through would be impossible to forget. But Pennywise knew that memories could fade, that as you grew older, the edges of this nightmare would blur.

You just stared at him, searching for the right words.

His eyes held a strange depth, a rawness you hadn't seen before. But he didn't wait for your answer. He simply turned, drifting back into the shadows as he whispered...

"The game isn't over."

And as he vanished, you were left in the cold darkness, with the silence pressing down around you like a final embrace. You clutched your knees to your chest, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily in your heart. You knew that even if you did forget him one day, some part of him would linger -an echo in the back of your mind, a memory that would never truly die.

That night, as sleep began to take you, you imagined him in the backyard... looking up at the stars and wondering if you'd remember.

It really felt like something precious had been taken away from you too early.

The next morning, you woke up in your own bed, in your home in Witchham Street.

For a moment you thought you'd died... Εveryone around you acted as though you'd never disappeared, as if those harrowing months at Neibolt hadn't happened at all. But there was one particular detail that hinted otherwise... A red balloon, floating silently at the edge of your bed.

That morning, you also got your period for the first time.

Stepping outside, the daylight was so bright and so warm, a stark contrast to the darkness you'd lived in for weeks. You squinted at the light, feeling almost as though you'd stepped into another world. It was hard to believe that just the night before, you had been in his arms -you had been seeking comfort from the monster who had held you captive.

Part of you seriously considered whether it had all been just a dream. Still, for days, you felt his absence like a missing heartbeat.

The world around you seemed much louder and the colors almost too vivid. Sometimes, you'd catch yourself looking for him in the shadows, half expecting to see his shape looming in the corners of your room.

At night you'd lie awake, thinking of his strange question...

"When you leave… will you forget me?"

You didn't know how to answer, even to yourself.

As much as you wanted to return to your old life and to move on from that nightmare, you felt a small part of you ache with the loss. You had lived through something impossible, something that had left you changed.

There was no going back to who you were before.

Over time though, the memory of him faded into something almost surreal. You didn't speak of it to anyone -the words felt fragile and sacred, as if telling the story might diminish it.

But the craziest thing that happened? You continued living as if everything was perfectly normal.

You only thought of Pennywise again that Christmas, in 1979...

The holidays had come to Derry and your family decorated the house with lights and garlands, the scents of pine and cinnamon clinging to every corner. There were gifts under the tree and snow falling outside the windows. Everything was festive and happy.

But when you woke up in your cozy little bedroom -on the 24th-, near the foot of your bed laid a single, crumpled sunflower. It must've been from the patch in the backyard where you'd sometimes sit with him, where the wildflowers had managed to grow despite the gloom. You held it gently, careful not to disturb its fragile petals. It felt like a memento of your time together -a reminder that what you had shared was real, however bizarre and terrifying.

On some nights, when the world was silent, you'd find yourself reaching for that sunflower, feeling the dried petals crumble beneath your fingertips. You'd lie awake, wondering where he was -if he still remembered, if he still waited. And though you'd never say it out loud, a small part of you hoped he did. Because no matter how much time passed, no matter how much you grew or changed, there was one truth you could never deny... He had left his mark on you, a scar that you'd carry forever.

And somewhere out there, you felt certain, Pennywise was waiting.

In the years that followed, you held onto those fleeting memories. They had a strange, magnetic pull -a mix of terror and fascination. You couldn't help but feel that if you let them slip, if you completely forgot, you'd be leaving behind a piece of yourself.

The Losers helped ground you.

They were your anchors to the present, pulling you back to laughter, to familiar faces and to the warmth of friends who shared their own scars and secrets. They never asked about the nightmares that sometimes made you stir, the shadows you occasionally saw out of the corner of your eye. And you never told them.

But there were also moments -quiet and lonely moments- when the weight of it all crept back, haunting you with unspoken questions. You'd wonder if he thought of you, if he missed you in his own twisted way. Did he ever feel the same hollow ache?

And deep down, you even wondered what might happen if he came back. Would he be nice and protecting? Or would he be just as monstrous and alien as before?

On some other nights, when the wind picked up, you swore you could feel his gaze -a distant yet familiar watchfulness that was both comforting and unnerving. It was as though he was still guarding you.

And so you moved forward, feeling the tug of those memories lessen but never fully vanish.

Would he stay away? Or would there come a day when that half-remembered monster with the childlike heart would find his way back to you?

1984 Derry, Maine

You tell yourself you hate Pennywise.

You tell yourself that, because you have to believe it is true, because that's the only way to move on. But deep inside your mind you can still feel him -his question echoing faintly in you, lesser and lesser each year, like a bond stretching thinner and thinner.

Currently, you're pondering over a glass of Cherry Coke. Yesterday, Bill had asked you about your dreams. He wanted to know if the clown that took away his little brother haunted you as well. You had simply shaken your head 'no', but the truth was the complete opposite.

Until you turned fifteen, Pennywise was still in your dreams. You remember those dreams even more vividly than your days in the house on Neibolt St...

You always had a strong imagination, which came with vivid dreams and equally vivid nightmares. In those dreams, Pennywise would come to you whenever you were scared. He'd pull you close in that tender way he never did in reality, fighting off every dark shape in your mind and then wrapping you in a kind of warmth you can't explain with words.

Sometimes, you'd apologize to him in those dreams -feeling an unnamed guilt- and he'd boop your nose with a soft and soothing "It's okie-dokie, Y/n."

Sometimes there'd be a red balloon waiting by your bed when you woke up, or maybe floating outside your school window. And on one specific evening, when the sadness felt like too much to bear, he appeared at the edge of your bed instead of the balloon. He hugged you and stayed with you until morning came, his glowing eyes softly illuminating the darkness. For once, they didn't scare you.

But as you grew up, you began to dream of him differently. In the nightmares, he'd chase you with a crooked smile and eyes that were dark with hunger, until you couldn't run anymore. Then you'd turn, tears streaming down your face, pleading with him and saying you were sorry over and over. You could never remember why you were sorry, but you knew that somewhere deep inside... you had hurt him. And somehow, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was you who'd let him down.

You tried to explain this to him, even though it was only in dreams -your Penny, who had watched over you. But he still seemed sad. So the dreams began to fade and he stopped showing himself altogether. Even then, you could still feel his presence, as if he was looking over you but choosing to stay hidden.

The few glimpses you have left are rather strange. Once, you had a dream with an uncanny intensity. It was the first different kind of dream -a dream where Pennywise was there as well, but puzzled, as you began to see him through a different lens. It left you feeling unsettled. Not sure what it meant, only that it somehow changed everything.

And still, each time you're scared, you call out for him in your dreams. You search, even while knowing he won't appear like he used to. Maybe it's because you had once blurted out that he was a killer, that he took innocent people like Georgie. It's all so blurry now, all these things you can't quite remember but can't entirely forget either.

You miss him.

You know Georgie's disappearance and so many others are somehow linked to that clown. But if his pattern is to stay on Earth for a year and hibernate for two decades (like Ben figured out), why then, hasn't he gone to sleep in five? It's almost as though he can't bring himself to leave.

Maybe you are asking too many questions. Or maybe you are starting to find the answers...

You're just a girl. And he… he's a boy in a strange, unfathomable way.

There are times when you think he's gone for good. But then there are other times -like when Oscar, the thick orange cat you've taken to caring for, curls up by you in a way that feels just a little too familiar. His stare, intense and watchful, feels more like an any ordinary cat.

You call him Oscar, but maybe -just maybe- you know it's him.

masterpost☁️

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[hopesangelsprite]

Hii thereeee

can we get a part 2 of Vamp!Illumi?? cuz i really REALLY want to know what happens next🙏🙏🙏🙏

But of course, I'm always happy to answer requests from my lovely readers 😁!! Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Vampire!Illumi x Vampire!Reader

Summary: Illumi expects his newly turned mate to struggle with adjusting to life as an immortal only to find that she maybe more acquainted with immortality than he is.

Warnings: Mentions of bl00d/death, language

Viewer discretion is advised.

The moon shines brightly on the dimly lit manor, casting long shadows across it's empty halls. Underneath those silvery rays of moonlight, Illumi sits as he watches your unconscious body lie. He doesn't regret his choice to turn you as he watches you breathe your last, sleep for the last time. Even in death he finds you beautiful, alluring like the moonlight.

He leans further into the armchair placed not too far from your bedside and allows his mind to drift. He considers many things; how you'll adjust to the hunger, the heightened senses... and of course the bloodlust. At that particular thought, Illumi glances toward the corpse he's placed near the foot of the bed; the body's still war and he hopes you'll wake soon enough to enjoy that luxury.

Just as he prepares to let his mind slip away again, Illumi hears your heart stops, and your limbs begin to rustle beneath the covers. Seconds pass before your lashes slowly flutter open, eyes no longer bearing color. Instead, your eyes are black, the onyx contrasting starkly against the bright white of your sclerae. He watches as you pull yourself into a sitting position, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Well, well. You're finally awake.", he whispers so as not to startle you too badly, "I was afraid you'd pull through.".

Illumi studies your expression as you head snaps to face him, briefly allowing him to catch a glimmer of fear in your eyes as you regain your premortem memories. "You.", you speak before cringing at the volume of your own voice, "You did this to me? Made me like you?". Your eyes try and search his as he nods in confirmation. He, too, tries to predict your reaction as you let the weight of your eternity settle in. Will you scream, curse him for cursing you? Will you try and hold onto a sliver of denial or try and kill him like his prior, unsuccessful playmates?

Instead, he watches you nod slowly back at him, eyes lighting with mischief and a twisted version of excitement. "And I suppose... that's for me?", you ask while pointing to the corpse at your feet. Illumi stands, taking languid strides toward you and grasps your chin between his fingers. He considers you for a long time, wonders if shock is leading you accept your fate so quickly, if the hunger is already eating away at your cognitive functions. Still, he nods again and pulls the body closer to you. He watches as you take the now lukewarm wrist into your hands, lips parting as they hover over the artery that had once been responsible for a steady supply of blood in its arm. He watches as your fangs protrude and tear at the skin, their fresh white now stained as you take your first drink.

It doesn't take long for you to drain the body of its supply, a low moan of satisfaction rumbling in your chest at the lingering taste of iron on your tongue when your fangs retract. Illumi raises his hand to your cheek, swiping away a trickle of blood from the corner of your lips only for you take his thumb into your mouth with a tilt of your head. "Satisfied, pretty girl?", he hums while fighting the urge to give in to the voices urging him to ruin you again, "There's plenty where that came from.". You release his thumb with a pop and a giggle, kissing his wrist and drawing him closer as adrenaline and lust fill you; now that you're like him, you can take him the way you'd struggled with before. "And if it's not blood that'll satisfy me?", you press as your hand slides up his chest to rest on the pillar of his neck, "Is there plenty of you to satiate this hunger you've caused?".

"More than enough.", he begins to answer, "But first, we'll have to get you adjusted-". Before he can finish his sentence, Illumi finds himself flat on his back and flush with the plush mattress, empty eyes blinking slowly as he feels you straddle him. "Well, that's all I needed to hear.", you purr as you pull him into a heated kiss. As his lips move against yours, he realizes what'd happened. For the first time in a long time, Illumi had been stunned; For the first time in his life, Illumi had been bested.

Illumi's cock stiffens at the thought, kisses becoming more fervent as the two of you began to fight for dominance. A low groan escapes him as you grind your hips against growing erection and pin him with the intent of keeping him there. You part for air neither of you need, eyes dark with tension and desire. "You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into.", you tease as you begin undoing the button of his shirt. A dark chuckle escapes him as he watches you undo the last button. In flash of silk and inky tresses, he's got you pinned beneath him, ass pressed against the bulge you'd been so arrogantly grinding on earlier. "And neither do you.", he purrs into your skin as he watches you struggle against him.

You may be right, but Illumi knows he'll have a damn good time finding out for sure.

[hijackalx]

PARTY OF TWO +18

SUMMARY: You and Gale are looking for a reason to ditch your friends at the tavern— why not make that reason each other?

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, thigh-riding, praise kink, p in v, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, bondage (mage hand), multiple orgasms, love hotel, somewhat switch-y gale

The bustling tavern is filled with the sounds of drunken chatter and the occasional song. You sympathize with the bartender, who struggles to keep up with the demands of slurring customers. You think they wouldn't need so many refills if half of their drinks didn't end up on the floor.

You glance around from your seat at the bar, gaze hopping through patrons. Karlach is on her ninth pint, Wyll captivates a crowd with a far-fetched tale, and Astarion has found a pretty, young thing to entertain himself with. They all carry smiles on their faces and rosy cheeks, something you haven't had the pleasure of seeing in quite some time.

You're glad your friends seem to be enjoying themselves— you know how badly they've been needing to. Their plates have been full recently, so it's nice to be able to settle down for some fun.

As for yourself... well, let's just say you were outvoted when it came to agreeing on what "fun" was. This place is a little chaotic for your tastes, and not to mention tart from all the dwarf sweat and beer. You try not to cringe at how every surface is sticky and how every song that's sung is just slightly off-key.

Amidst your grumbling, a familiar figure takes the open spot beside you, and by the look on his face, you realize you're not the only one who's fighting the urge to be a spoilsport.

Gale— the ambitious wizard from Waterdeep. You two don't speak much, meaning you've yet to break the barrier of "acquaintance". You've never really sat down with him for more than small talk, not even at camp. You will admit though, from what you've picked up about him through eavesdropping has left you somewhat curious.

You think now might be a good time to finally get to know each other better. Besides, it doesn't appear that anyone else is willing to bond over your distaste for such lively establishments.

Your gaze flickers his way, confident and gregarious. Although, the ice-breaker on your tongue melts away once you notice that he's already looking in your direction. There's a slight raise to one of his brows and a tug at the corner of his mouth.

"... Gale—!" You needlessly announce his presence before your voice dies out.

You're not sure what it is, but for some reason, you seem to have forgotten how to speak. Your mouth hangs slack, and your throat is too tight for any words to escape. Maybe his staring caught you off guard— or maybe you'd forgotten just how attractive he is until now.

He sends you a small, perturbed smile, and you instantly feel the responsibility to cease the silence between you. "Sorry," you apologize for your offbeat behavior, then make a gesture to the glass in front of you. "Guess that's a sign to slow down, isn't it?"

It's unclear whether he's laughing at you or with you when he replies, "One too many?"

Your attention gravitates toward his fingers wrapping around his glass, then shifts to the liquid inside as it meets his lips. The sip is quick before he finds your eyes again.

You hope your ogling is averted fast enough to remain inconspicuous. "Not enough to make being here worthwhile," you respond flatly.

He hums in agreement, bouncing his brows up once. "I'm not too keen on taverns myself."

You both watch as Karlach engages in an arm wrestling match with a half-orc man across the room, the audience surrounding them getting rowdier by the minute.

He turns back to you with a smile and a shrug. "I'm more fitted for gatherings of a lesser degree." He pauses, appearing thoughtful before adding, "A bit of one-on-one, if you will."

His last sentence piques your interest, and you scan him inquisitively to figure out if it means what you think it does. There's an air of playfulness to him as you meet his gaze once more, an inviting glimmer in the shadow of his brow.

It doesn't take a genius to know that was an attempt at flirting with you, and if you have any sense, you'll see where this can take you; it's not everyday you get to romp with a man who's allegedly bedded a goddess.

You feign coyness by taking a sip from your glass. "It seems we're both outliers in that respect," you say to him over the chanting invading the building— from it, you conclude the consensus is that Karlach will win the match.

"Observant," he remarks, leaning in your direction. There's a look of confidence on his face that is wholly endearing, not to mention flattering. "I know of a much better place for it. I was thinking about heading there now, actually."

Your brow cocks upward as if the proposition on his mind is hidden from you. "Oh?" you hum, your fingernails tapping at your glass absentmindedly. "... Are you meeting someone?" You ensure that your voice is sweet, yet harboring a hint of longing behind it.

"I suppose it's fortunate I'm not, since I was hoping I wouldn't have to go alone."

You return the grin he gives you, knowing and affirming. A buzz of anticipation blooms in your chest when he places a palm on your knee, beckoning an explosion of heat to the skin beneath it.

Drifting closer, he speaks as if only for the two of you to hear, "you wouldn't mind accompanying an old wizard, would you?" His words are like honey by your ear, smooth and tempting. It sends the slightest shiver down your spine.

He pulls away just enough to meet your eyes, watching, waiting. You pretend to think on it, but he doesn't appear to fall for it for a second. "Hmm... that doesn't seem like it'd be too out of my way."

The hand on your knee flexes into a squeeze, a pleased twinkle in his eye. "Lovely."

You sneak out the door together, allowing him to place a guiding hand at the small of your back. The touch is that of a gentleman's, yet you feel the slightest tremor bubbling its way to the surface now and then.

The tension only rises between you with teasing exchanges. After some playful coaxing, he admits how he'd had his eye on you since the night began— how long he'd been waiting to get you alone.

"What were you waiting for?" You question, intrigued. It's not like anyone was stopping him.

"Approaching someone as sightly as yourself takes the courage of a lion.” He shoots you a flirtatious grin, his stare shameless and unwavering. “As you can imagine, that’s not an easy amount to muster.”

"Courage?" You repeat with a laugh. He's taken aback when you impede his path, a scheming tug to your lips. You study him a moment before raising your hand to his cheek, tilting your head slightly.

With a half-lidded gaze, you follow your fingers as they begin to trace over his bearded jaw. "Do I make you nervous, Gale?" You smile ever so sweetly. Your fingertips travel from his jaw to his lips, just barely touching the soft skin; you feel his warm, uneven exhales against them.

As you slowly bring your mouth to meet his, he seems almost frozen. Though, just as your lips graze, he places a hand at the back of your neck and closes the distance himself.

The kiss is hungry— impatient. His palms slide down to your hips, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body meshes with yours, and the exchanging of your breaths is visible in the cool, night air. You seem to get lost in the embrace, forgetting that you're still on the street; as a result, the hand you have resting on his chest slithers down his torso, a finger slipping into his waistband.

He makes a humming noise and reluctantly pulls away, his grip securing around your wrist to steady it. "Let's not get too eager," he chuckles, though you can tell his arousal is getting the better of him. "We've almost reached our destination— wouldn't want to spoil the fun, now would we?"

You giggle a little bit at the implication of 'spoiling the fun', then allow him to link his arm with yours as you continue onward, your pulse still thrumming with adrenaline. "Will you tell me where we're going?" You nudge him, wondering just what his clever mind has in store for you.

"It's better as a surprise, if that's alright with you."

A surprise, you note, sporting a subtle expression of delight. If you're being honest, your first impression of Gale left much to be desired— you thought he was, for a lack of a better word, simple. But this night has proven you wrong so far, and you hope it'll continue to go that way.

And, much to your amusement, it does.

You stand outside of a two-story building, the cobblestone exterior lit with the flames of lanterns hanging from the balcony. Also placed in distance of the light is a sign that you recognize.

He didn't just take you to any old inn, but an inn specifically for lovers.

While walking to the room he purchased at the desk, he turns to look down at you on the stairs. "So? What do you think?" He says, a lilt to his tone that exposes how pleased he is with himself.

"Would it surprise you if I said I've never stayed here before?"

"You're joking!" His face contorts in an almost scandalized fashion, searching you for any signs of jest. "Well, I guess I'll have to be the one to help you get familiar then." He sends a reassuring wink in your direction, then continues to lead you down the second-floor hallway.

Upon reaching your room, he holds the door open for you, placing a palm on your lower back to direct you in. You're stunned as you enter; the decor is like nothing you've ever seen before— from the circular bed draped with curtains, the luxurious bath, and the decorated mirror anchored to the ceiling.

"This is..." your voice trails off, truly at a loss for words. After hearing the door shut and lock, a presence approaches you from behind. Promptly, you feel the gentle ghosting of lips on your neck.

You inhale sharply as his breath leaves goosebumps on your skin. Hands resting on your waist, he holds you in place as he leaves the softest, teasing kiss behind.

"I know this is ill-mannered of me..." he starts, his voice suddenly deep and gravelly by your ear. "But I cannot wait any longer. Please."

The subtle desperation in his tone makes you shiver. Your lips part as he begins to run his hands up your body, traveling their way along your torso. You let out a small whimper at how his large, calloused palms feel through the thin material of your dress, how warm and inviting they are— how you wish for them to touch your bare body instead.

"Is this still what you want?" The short hairs on his jaw brush your skin as he speaks, breaths hastening as if he's raring for the green light.

You're almost too distracted by how his fingers restlessly bunch up the fabric just below your chest to answer. "Y-yes." You place your hands over his, moving them up. They finally engulf your breasts, his thumbs running over the hardened nipples begging to be freed.

"Yes, what?"

You turn your head slightly to peer at him over your shoulder. "I want you to fuck me." A warmth surges through your cheeks as the sentence leaves your mouth, the vulgarity of it both humiliating and exciting.

He's been anticipating hearing those words all night— keyed up like a dog waiting to be thrown a bone. He places a palm on your jaw and angles you to kiss him; it's reminiscent of the one on the street, but this time he doesn't hold back. It's raw and unrestrained, his tongue meeting yours and his teeth tugging on your bottom lip.

He pulls away to direct your figure to the wall. The material is cold on your cheek as he pins you against it, caging you between his arms. Aching for his touch, you arch your back to press your ass into him. He shamelessly rubs his hard-on against you for friction, letting out a broken moan by your ear and causing your thighs to squeeze together.

His hand snakes beneath the hem of your dress, seeking the pulsing heat between your legs. You widen your stance to give him better access, jaw falling slack as he locates your needy clit through your panties. You grind into his fingertip, impatient with how he toys with you— he picks up a rhythm only to break it, then repeats.

You let out a sound of frustration, and his solution is to stick his thigh between the two of yours.

You quickly pick up on what he's suggesting. “Gale," you say testily, unamused with his games. You'd much rather he'd just fuck you already.

"I want to watch," his voice comes out pleadingly and defensive. He lets out a shuddering breath before he licks his lip and mutters, "please, just… humor me."

The neediness in his tone raises goosebumps on your skin. You throb in response, a new wave of heat gathering to your cunt. You've never considered such an act, but he's convinced you with just a simple sentence. Lowering your weight onto him, you feel how the slick clinging to your folds smears into your undergarment, leaking through to paint your inner thighs.

He groans as he watches you use his thigh to get off, his cock twitching at how you whimper when he flexes the muscle. One hand leaves the wall to settle on your hip, and he uses it to guide you in slow, circular motions, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

His hips buck once he sees the pleasure on your features, a shaky moan leaving his throat. "You look so beautiful like this," he says through ragged breaths of arousal, watching how your brows knead together and your lips separate. "Keep going."

You feel a knot form in your lower stomach as he begins to bounce his knee, sending vibrations to your clit. His tempo is steady and relentless, eliciting a familiar, overwhelming sensation that courses through your veins. "G-gale," you say in a panic, "I can't. I'm going to— I can't—!" You fight off your orgasm with everything you've got, trying not to succumb to the waves of pleasure he sends through you.

You squirm in his grasp, but he keeps you in place. "It's okay, you're okay," he assures you, though he sounds like he's lingering on the edge himself. As if his words are a cue, your eyes squeeze shut and you finish on his thigh. Flashes of white dance behind your eyelids as you moan his name, your body jerking as it tenses repeatedly.

"S-shit," he stutters, biting his lip at how you move against his cock. He seems to hold his breath until you're done, letting out a heavy sigh of relief after he's succeeded in not coming prematurely as well.

He grips your shoulder with one hand, his thumb moving in circles over your skin as you recollect yourself. You attempt to turn around after a moment, yet you find that the buzzing in your legs makes for difficult use.

"Need a lift?" He laughs a bit.

You nod at him, putting your arms around his neck. With his palms settling just below your ass, he lifts you in one swift motion, carrying you in the direction of the bed.

Just as he begins to lay you down, he kisses you again— slow and seductive this time, but somehow hungrier. Your back gently meets the mattress, the fluffy duvet moulding around your shape and encasing you like a cloud. Your mouths begrudgingly disconnect, and as you open your eyes, you're taken aback by the reflection of yourself behind his head.

He notices your surprise, though the way he's looking you up and down says he has more important things on his mind. His gaze is heavy and almost daydreamy as he speaks, "I wanted you to be able to see yourself." He sits up to remove his shirt, tossing it aside before reaching for the zipper of your dress. "I wanted you to see how gorgeous you look while I fuck you."

You arch your back to assist him in removing the garment, watching as he pulls it to the ends of your feet. All your body is exposed except for your cunt, which he seems to be saving for last.

You finally feel his touch on your skin, placing your hands over his as they make a map of your figure. You guide him to your tits, rolling your head back into the pillow as he begins to knead them. His eagerness elicits a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain, the pressure just enough to satiate you.

Your fingers card through his hair as he places sloppy, wet kisses on your neck. The strands fall haphazardly over his features as you knock them from their place. When he sits up, you note how much this look suits him— messy hair, pink lips, and a heaving chest.

Disrupting your ogling, your eyes glance down at the bulge in his pants. You let out an impatient whine, reaching for it. As your fingertips graze the material of his clothes, your wrists are promptly snatched and restrained to the bed.

It all happens so fast, you don't quite realize how he's got you pinned despite both of his hands resting on his thighs in front of you. With furrowed brows, your gaze flits up above your head; a blue, transparent hand holds your wrists down, limbless and airborne. You almost feel silly for not assuming a wizard would use magic— even at a time like this.

"Clever," you cock an eyebrow, sending him a playful grin.

If his face wasn't already flushed, it definitely is now. He seems to get a bit flustered by the praise, smiling back somewhat awkwardly. "I occasionally like to think so."

With that, he begins kissing down towards your navel, his palms running along the sides of your body as he does so. He uses a light, teasing touch, making your skin react with sensitivity. You writhe in the Mage Hand's grasp, at which he peeks upward with a prideful pull to the corner of his mouth.

Once he reaches just above your underwear, he lifts his head, resulting in your body yearning for the return of his warm breaths. His fingers slip beneath the elastic covering each hip, delicately and smoothly removing the article from your figure. His gaze is fixated on your cunt— how it glistens under the lantern light from the bedside table.

He groans involuntarily at the sight, dipping one of his fingers into your contracting hole. It slides in effortlessly, though your walls squeeze around him in excitement. "Oh, Gods..." he mutters to himself, adding a second finger. It fits snugly, and he separates them inside of you to test how tight you are.

You whine, need prevalent in your tone. "Gale—" you choke back a moan as he begins pumping in and out of you. His pace is slow and agonizing, brushing against your G-spot but lacking the right vigor. He seems to be too deep in his admiration, merely doing it for his own enjoyment. "Gale—" in a show of desperation and faltering patience, you use your feet to buck your hips off the bed. "—I need you. Now."

Your plea snaps him out of his trance. He stops altogether, instead becoming awestruck at the sight of your body teeming with desire as it tugs against its restraint. You pout when he removes his fingers, watching as he pops them into his mouth to clean them. His brows come together as he savors the taste, though he doesn't linger on it for long as he quickly begins fumbling with the waistband of his pants.

He pulls the material from his hips, slinging both that and his underwear to the floor. You watch with blown pupils as his cock springs free, wishing you could run your fingertips down the happy trail on his stomach all the way to his shaft.

Holding your stare, he uses his hand to give himself a few pumps, smearing the excess of precum over his sensitive head. His body jolts slightly from the sensitivity, a small moan bubbling up his throat.

With that, he lowers himself on top of you, and you readily spread your legs for him. His tip finally breaches your entrance, and you let out a sound of relief into his mouth as he kisses you. He starts out slow, but you're not sure if it's for your sake or his. A sharp breath is sucked through his teeth as he fully sheathes himself into your warmth, reveling in how your cunt tries to draw him in further.

"You're not making this easy, are you?" His words come out strained by your ear.

You laugh breathily in response. "Maybe that'll teach you not to be such a tease next time."

With a groan, he begins to move. The bed creaks under every thrust he makes, sending ripple after ripple of pleasure to your core. Lewd noises fill the room as he repeatedly delves into your wet hole, the squelching building with his rhythm. Your legs wrap around his back, trying with all your strength to pull him closer, closer, until you finally feel his base hit your opening.

His head moves to nuzzle against your shoulder, and the reflection of your entangled bodies on the ceiling is made visible to you. You watch his back flex with every movement, noting how he completely loses himself between your legs; every now and then you'll see the tendons in his hands bulge as he grips the sheets, or how he kisses your collarbone to cover up a moan.

In your infatuation, you remember him mentioning the mirror being there for you to watch yourself, not him. Your eyes flit back to your face, almost surprised by who's staring back at you— stray hairs decorate your features, your brows are kneaded together in ecstasy, and your puffy, swollen lips are parted to accommodate your ragged panting— you’ve never seen yourself look so out of sorts. In fact, something about it turns you on more.

Just look at what he's done to you, how he's made you unravel for him. He has you restrained to the bed like you're his whore, and you don't even fight it. He begins to fuck you faster, harder, chasing an orgasm, all the while you lie there and let him have his way with you.

The coils in the bed groan as he pounds into you, his grunts continuously more audible than the last. The muscles in his arms tense repeatedly, riddling his limbs with ridges of definition. His rhythm begins to stutter, the motion of his hips getting sloppy with need; there's a desperation to him that tells you he's close.

You arch your lower back so that each of his needy thrusts hits your G-spot, forcing a loud moan from your chest. The persistent stimulation has your core tightening and a pit forming in your stomach as you anticipate your high. You take in a few shallow breaths before throwing your head back, your second orgasm violently ripping through you. Your body squirms uncontrollably beneath him, digging your nails into your palms.

He has a front row seat to your symphony of pleasure, each mewl like heaven to his ears. "I love the sounds you make," he praises, wishing he had the blessing of hearing you like this more often.

As if hoping to draw out his climax now, your velvety walls spasm and tighten around him, pulling moan after moan from his lips. "I want you to cum," you whimper against his ear, your voice shaky from his relentless pace. "Cum for me. Please."

He falls apart under your coaxing. Letting out a choked sound of euphoria, he reluctantly pulls himself from you. You gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness while he finishes onto your stomach, watching how he throws his head back and bucks his hips with each spurt of cum.

Layers of warm seed spread across your heaving abdomen. The magic binding your hands almost immediately breaks, turning into a cloud of blue that fizzles into nothing. Your aching wrists fall haphazardly to your sides, too exhausted from remaining in that position to move again.

After a moment of recuperation, he stumbles to his feet, grabbing a towel by the bath before soaking it with the warm water inside. When he returns, he sits on the side of the bed, gently and delicately wiping up the mess he'd left on you.

He looks so focused while he cleans, making sure the rag doesn't leave anything behind. You can't help fawning at his concentration, a soft smile finding its way onto your face. He glances up once before doing a double take, not expecting to find you staring. He laughs, albeit a little awkwardly.

He then picks up your tired wrists and massages them, leaving a small peck on each. You assume that's his way of 'kissing it better'.

Once he's done, he leaves the cloth in a damp wad on the nightstand. Flopping onto the bed with a hand supporting his head, he turns to look at you. "So… shall we do it in the bath next?"

[reidbae]

DAY 12: In For It — glove kink w/ semi-dom!spencer reid

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: When an unexpected coworker causes you to develop a kink for gloves, you find yourself needing to take care of your dying urge as soon as possible. What you don't know, is that the same coworker finding you in the act will prove to be more pleasurable than you realize.

pairing: semi-dom!spencer reid x sub!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: mentions of blood/crime scene, implied age gap, use of y/n and sweet girl, obv glove kink and mention of latex, no lube is used which is prob unrealistic but ignore it, fingering, choking, vaginal sex, breeding kink, unprotected piv sex (no, no, and no), fondling and ass grabbing, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.2k

a/n: sooo this was supposed to be semi-dom spencer but the sub in me failed miserably :,) and yes this is day 12 on day 15 shush i'm inconsistent

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1

You were kneeling near the floor of the crime scene that you were at, with Spencer and Derek above you, discussing the scene around you.

You were on a case in a small town in Vermont regarding an unsub who was leaving very bloody scenes behind him. Needless to say, you and the team were getting your hands dirty.

Well, not literally.

Your gloved hand was pointing at what looked like scratch marks on the floor of the living room you were in, which you assumed to be signs of a struggle. You voiced this to the two men.

Derek, who was hovering over you, nodded his head in agreement with your idea. "Yeah, looks like it. This victim must've really given the unsub a hard time, then."

"Yeah, and he wasn't happy about that," you said pretty obviously, because it didn't really take a profiler to see that. "Hey, Spence, what do you...

...Think."

You cut yourself off as you looked up at your other coworker, Spencer Reid, who was pulling the same gloves you had on onto his own veiny hands. It took all of a few seconds for him to turn to you, raising an eyebrow at you.

Spencer was older than you, and you had always found him attractive. Who couldn't, really? Tall, handsome, brunette FBI profiler, and a nice personality to add to it.

He was flawless.

But you had never crossed that humongous line between being friends and being more. While it was nice to think about, you didn't think he could see you in that way, and you preferred to remain friends anyway for the sake of your relationship.

Which is what made the blood that rushed to your cheeks, and the feeling that ran down to your cunt, all the more confusing.

"What were you saying, Y/N?" asked Spencer as he tilted his head, looking down at you.

It didn't help that from where you were looking, you were almost at eye level with his belt.

Fuck.

"Oh, um, I was just wondering what you...Think? A- About the case? I mean, like, do you think there was a struggle?" you could barely stutter out, shaking your head at yourself. Spencer kneeled down next to you, examining the same marks you'd been looking at with his hands.

You watched as his gloves hands traced circles over the hard wood floor, then moved to nearby blood splotches on the ground.

You had never wanted so badly to be an inanimate object.

Spencer gave you a brief synopsis of what he believed. From what you could gather, he agreed with you and Derek, but you were struggling to listen to him as your eyes remained where they were.

You weren't sure how or when this newfound thing for gloves had developed, but it was driving you crazy. You had to clear your throat to snap yourself back into reality, getting up from the ground.

"We should get back to the station. I want to see if they got anything out of the fingerprint we found," said Derek, to which Spencer nodded in agreement.

When you didn't answer, eyes too fixated on Spencer's hands as the gloves came off of them, the genius spoke up. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" he asked in a worried voice.

The sound of your name on his lips tugged you back down to earth, and you looked up. "Huh? Wha—Yeah, I'm good. Let's go," you said nervously.

Spencer, still concerned, put a hand on the small of your back as you all walked out of the house you were in. Spencer had always been very protective of you, and you weren't quite sure why, but you liked to assume that it was because he was older than you, and felt the need to do so.

What you did know, though, was that it was not helping at all.

—

You all but leaped out of the car when the three of you got back to the police station, muttering some nonsense about paperwork and overtime as an excuse to Spencer and Derek.

When you finally got to the bathroom that you'd been longing to go to since earlier, you closed the door quickly behind you and gave a long, slow sigh.

Because the town you were in was so small, the station wasn't really the most up to date. The bathroom was tiny, leaving little to no space to walk around. Plus, it was unisex, and there was only one of them. It was probably hell on earth for the police officers who worked here on a daily basis.

But that was the least of your worries.

You leaned your hands on the sink of the bathroom and tried to slow yourself down, trying so hard to ignore the growing wetness between your legs as you closed your eyes.

And all for what? Spencer Reid's gloves? The one you'd seen him touch blood with so many times? The one you’d seen him touch blood with today?

Really?

But, God, you just couldn't deny it.

A flushed, rosy face looked back at you in the mirror, with you looking as if you had just seen a ghost. Your chest was heaving up and down at a rapid pace, your hair messy over your forehead.

There was only so much of this you could take.

It was a dumb idea. A terrible, terrible idea. But you figured, if you worked this sudden want for your coworker out now, you wouldn't have to stare it in the face ever again.

You shook your head for what you were about to do, but took a seat on the low counter, your back pressing onto the mirror behind you. Slowly, you undid your own belt, then yanked your work slacks down and out of the way.

You had to take a few seconds to really think about this before you went through with it. Could you really do this in a police station, the one coworker you'd always seen as no more than a friend on your mind?

Fuck.

Yeah, you could.

You closed your eyes and followed through, moving your hand down to your clit and rubbing yourself in slow circles at first. You began to think about Spencer and the way his blue gloves had fit so nicely on his hands earlier. God, it felt ridiculous just thinking about it.

But it was true.

A knock sounded on the door when you were just about to stick a finger inside of yourself, but the sound was so muffled, you couldn't quite process that you were being called.

"Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?"

You couldn't hear a thing over the sound of your own whines, way too far gone now to think about much else.

"I'm coming in there."

...

Now, you heard it.

You were too late in jolting your hand away from your body before Spencer's tall figure stood in the doorway, a concerned look over his face, that soon turned to one of surprise.

The view he was met with was one of your hand quickly moving away from your cunt, your undone belt and open slacks enough for anyone, let alone a genius, to figure out what the hell you'd just been doing.

While he hadn't gotten you in the act, the scene that was laid out in front of him was very much enough.

The door was already closed for the most part when Spencer walked in, and he shut it all the way so no one could see the two of you. His cheeks were red as his eyes roamed over your body, the man at a clear loss for words.

"Spencer, I—" you said with a face as hot as his, your eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry—I was just—It's not what it looks like," you said dumbly, shaking your head at yourself.

"A- Are you sure, Y/N? Because, from where I am, what you were just doing is quite obvious," Spencer told you, crossing his arms as he did, like he was reprimanding a little kid. You sighed.

"I just needed to—Work it out before we got started with the case again. I'm sorry. I- I know it's unprofessional, and—" you began.

But he cut you off.

"It's fine, Y/N. You have needs," Spencer shrugged, like this was something people saw on a daily basis. "I was just a little, um—Surprised."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and nodded, the heat never leaving your face. Spencer took a step closer to you, looking at you curiously.

"I have to ask, though," Spencer chuckled, looking you up and down. You nearly missed it when he did, too bewildered by the fact that he could laugh at what was happening. "Why the sudden urge?"

You tilted your head, looking away from him and then back again, unsure of what to say. When you didn't answer, Spencer went on.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious," Spencer said.

You took a very long pause before opening your mouth to speak again, cursing yourself for the words that were about to leave it. "Uh, well—I just—It's kind of dumb, and it's going to sound really weird, b- but, um," you were stuttering as you played with your hair, sighing. "Yourgloves."

Your words came out so jumbled that Spencer raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a confused look. You weren't sure if he hadn't heard you, or if he had, and he was just weirded out. "What did you say?" Spencer asked.

Turns out, it was the former.

"Y- Your gloves," you told him more clearly, looking away from him. "I don't know. I saw you with them earlier at the crime scene, and—Well, I know we're just friends and stuff but—God, I just don't know," you said in annoyance of yourself. Even you had no idea where this sudden need was really coming from.

"I don't know," you said again. "I just like the way they look on your hands, okay?"

Spencer took a second to think and consider your words. Then, instead of walking out of the room, or giving you a look, or calling you a mean name, Spencer just laughed again. He laughed. At you.

He seriously found this funny?

Spencer reached into the pocket of his work slacks, and pulled out the very thing that had caused you to be so worked up in the first place. The pair of blue gloves that he now had in his hand couldn't be the same pair he had used earlier, because these ones weren't covered in blood.

"These, Y/N? This is what's got you so worked up?" Spencer asked in a nearly teasing voice, smirking at you as he walked even closer to you. You furrowed your brow.

"Maybe," you said, a bratty tone behind your voice. You refused to look at him, turning your face away from him. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Spencer putting the gloves onto his hands.

You knew you were in for it now.

Spencer tilted your chin up to meet his eyes, bottom lip in his teeth as his eyes moved down to your lips. "Most kinks are easy to develop, in case you didn't know. They usually develop when a specific stimulus is paired with sexual notions or behavior."

"Meaning, for one, that you don't need to be so shy about this. And, two, I don't have to understand it fully to please you. So," he said in a low voice, leaning in, so that your faces were mere inches away from each other. "Tell me where you want my hands, Y/N."

You were way too dumbfounded to process all of what he was saying to you. Your breath was heavy, and before you even knew it, you moved one of his gloved hands to your neck, and the other to the hem of your slacks.

Spencer nodded, and, without even a word more, pressed his lips to yours. Before touching you, he grabbed you by the ass and pulled him in closer to you, so that he was standing in the middle of your legs.

Your tongues were all over each other in your kiss as Spencer began squeezing your neck, clearly attempting to gauge how hard you wanted him to go. His gentle hold was cute: But you needed more.

You pulled away from him for just a second to whisper, "Harder. Please," in the neediest voice you had ever put on. Spencer chuckled at you again, obliging as soon as you had asked, and roughened his hold on your neck.

Now, you were happy.

If it weren't for the fact that you were already soaking wet, the latex of the glove may not have felt good, or even let Spencer's finger slip past your throbbing cunt at all. But you were happily surprised to find that his finger went inside of you with ease, causing you to moan out.

"Shhh, sweet girl, none of that," said Spencer in a teasing tone of voice, moving his hand from your neck to cover your mouth. "We wouldn't want anyone else to hear us, would we?" he asked.

You shook your head, cheeks flushed with heat, and that was enough for Spencer. His gloved hand closed around your neck again while he pumped his finger in and out of you at a quick pace.

While having a glove kink was more like a fantasy before all of this, you couldn't believe how good it really made you feel. The rough latex on your cunt provided you with a sort of friction that you had never been able to get when touching yourself in the past, and it was beyond what you were looking for.

"Is this what you wanted?" Spencer asked in a caring voice, bringing his hand to cup your cheek as he fingered you all at once. "Or is there something else I can do for you?"

"A- Ah, Spencer," you moaned out, feeling dizzy with bliss as you answered him. "Please, I just—I think I'm going to need a little more than your fingers," you whined.

Spencer didn't waste a second more and picked you up, holding you gently in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his torso for a beat, and quickly missed the feeling as soon as he put you down to your feet.

Spencer softly pushed your head down and bent you over the bathroom counter, so that you were looking directly at yourself in the mirror. You could hear the sound of Spencer's belt unbuckling from behind, and watched through the mirror as he allowed it to clatter to the ground.

"Spencer—" you said in surprise, mostly of how willing he seemed to do all of this for you.

Maybe you hadn't been the only one keeping your feelings pent up after all.

"What is it, Y/N?" Spencer asked. You were about to answer, when he then took his throbbing cock out from his boxers, giving you a front row view of how hard he was. You shook your head, mumbling to him to forget it.

Spencer pumped himself up and down a few times, and the view was goddamn mesmerizing as he groaned behind you, releasing drops of pre-cum onto your ass. You watched in anticipation, eyes looking at him with a hungry desire to feel him inside of you.

Spencer guided his tip to your aching cunt, then slowly pushed himself inside of you. Already knowing what your response to this would be, he covered your mouth, quickly stopping a moan from leaving your lips.

His other hand gripped your ass again as he moved into you at a pace that was somehow soft and rough at the same time. And then, when he was sure you would keep yourself quiet, he moved his hand back to your throat again.

"Does that feel good, sweet girl?" Spencer cooed, brushing your hair out of your face. You nodded in a little bit of embarrassment at the manner in which this scenario was unfolding.

"Y- Yes. You feel so good, Spencer. You're...So big," you admitted to him, shutting your eyes closed. Spencer's smirking reflection looked back at yours.

"I'm glad you think so," Spencer chuckled, hardening his grip on your bottom as he moved into you, now going at a slower pace. You whimpered at the sudden change of speed, causing Spencer to say, "What, Y/N? What is it?"

"I...Can you go faster? Please?" you croaked.

Spencer pressed a few kisses to the back of your neck and nodded, smirking. "As you wish," he obliged, quickening his pace once more.

"Look at you, sweet girl. All fucked out for me," Spencer whispered, moving you by your hair, so you could gaze at yourself in the mirror. "I'm going to have your legs shaking by the time I'm done with you," he rasped.

Like that wasn't already true.

Spencer pulled you towards him so that your back was flush against his front, and he took each of your tits into his gloved hands as he continued to fuck you. His thumbs ran circles over your hardened nipples as he fondled you, causing a series of broken, whiny moans to leave your lips.

At this point, neither of you gave much of a damn about who heard you.

Spencer could feel your cunt tensing around him, and he knew then and there that you were close. One of his hands roamed down your body, over your chest and stomach, before finding your aching clit and rubbing it the same way he had your nipples.

Once again, that feeling of the latex drove you wild. You felt your climax bubbling up inside of you, threatening to spill over at any given second. "Spencer, please, fuck, I'm so close, I'm so close," you muttered over and over again, biting down on your lip.

"I know, sweet girl, I know," Spencer cooed, pressing rough kisses to your neck. "Are you going to let me fill you up, Y/N?" Spencer asked, looking into your eyes now.

How could you do anything but nod?

"Y- Yes, Spencer. Please do. I want to feel all of you," you begged him.

"You will," he assured you, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm going to fill you up so good," he said. He then looked at you through the mirror, so he could watch you come undone. He finally moaned, "Come on, sweet girl. Come for me."

You didn't need much more than that.

You let yourself go, forced to look at Spencer through the mirror as he held your face in place. Your names left each other's mouths, each in a moan, causing Spencer to cover your mouth as you cried out in pleasure.

Spencer pressed butterfly kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you came back down to earth. Holding you like you were the most fragile thing on the earth, he then kissed you on the mouth, soft and slowly so.

Spencer chuckled, and you turned your head to look at him, a small smile on your lips. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," the genius laughed, nuzzling his nose with yours. "Just thinking..."

"...Maybe I should wear those gloves more often."

—

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[lostinforestbound]

I actually wrote this fic back in January, before ever making a tumblr! I had the idea for a while and I wanted to get it out there even if no one would see it, and now it's at over 100 kudos! Never would I have ever thought the fic would be seen this much, and I'm grateful that people like it! This is also an exploration of Rolan's insecurity and guilt being part of Cal and Lia's lives. Enjoy the tumblr version!

Rolan/GN!Tav

Look Away for a Minute

Rolan is frustrated by how his mind constantly clings to the past. It refuses to move on, and he should be over it by now...right? OR A nightmare tortures Rolan in the night, but Tav is there to help him through it.

Word Count: 3k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Nightmare sequence, Mentions of abuse, Mentions of vomiting, Rolan's POV

The crushing pressure of hands around Rolan's throat is too much, cutting off his airway so he couldn’t breathe, and so tight that it could snap his neck in any moment. His sharp nails desperately scrape at the wrists positioned there, trying to find a breath that will never come, his tail lashing out from under him. He wants to fight harder, kick until his bones crack, scream until his voice is gone, bite until his jaw locks and breaks his teeth, but an unrelenting fear paralyzes him in place.

He can’t see the face above him through unfocused eyes; it's cast in an unnatural shadow with cruel blue irises staring down at him. It's unblinking, watching him struggle with a lack of reaction as his throat goes dry as sand, the urge to cough rising in need.

Lorroakan.

Rolan rasps, his nails- his claws leaving angry red welts across Lorroakan's forearms. He didn’t know the answer. What was the gods damned answer? Was it something about divination runes? The creation of the Weave? Or was it the Spellplague in the Year of Blue Fire? N-No, no, it had to be about the Nightsong, the relic that he so aggressively sought after. He can still fix this! He can correct himself and apologize. He'll grovel if he has to, knock his own pride down a few pegs to be more convincing and pathetic, just as his mentor wants him to be. He can do better, he has to do better, for Cal and Lia. After what they've both been through for him, for this damn apprenticeship he wanted so badly, it is the least he can do for them. He will-

“What is this, hm?”

Another face appears above him, one he should be so familiar with but it faded so much over time. It's been so many years since he looked at her portrait, one that was gifted to him by Cal when he was welcomed into their little family; he couldn't bear to look at it again, not after her funeral. Her eyes are just as vicious as Lorroakan’s, but she is someone Rolan fears much more. It makes his blood run cold, body shaking as if he was dunked in the frozen waters of Neverwinter.

“You were the sweetest child, but I see who you are now: A manipulator, and a thief.”

Please, no-

“You stole my family, little one. You stole them away for me. Did you wait idly for me to die in order to take them for yourself?”

The moment he tries to tear his eyes away, a new set of hands forces his head still with a grip on his face, maintaining the eye contact. He chokes still, desperate tears filling his eyes as his struggle intensifies. The tiefling couldn't even give her the courtesy of pleading for mercy, or to apologize, he just wanted to run away; after all, he is a coward. One who couldn't even look at a portrait of the person he thought of as his own mother.

These hands have delicate fingers but are just as tight, enough to bruise his fragile jaw; when did he get so small? “Little Rolan, a greedy child. I gave you my home, I fed you warm meals, and I gave you a bed; was that not enough for you? A selfish boy you are! A pitiful thing. The one time I feed a stray, he comes back for more. He takes and takes and never stops. They don’t need you like you need them. They don’t even want you.“

He knows, he knows that uncomfortably well, but by the gods does he need them. He needs them so badly. If they were gone, he would have nothing else.

He feels himself grow limp as more unnerving words are whispered. Most of it he can’t even register anymore, but he knows one thing for sure.

“They would be better off without you burdening them.”

He wakes with a sharp gasp, sitting up with a disoriented mind with wide golden eyes. Instinctively, he digs his nails into his neck, but it takes him a long moment to realize that there is no hands there, no hands to choke him. He breathes in heavy to get air in his lungs, heart racing as he takes in the dark room around him. He’s in his bedroom. He’s not on the cold wood or even in his workspace inside the tower, where he used to be tutored. He’s alive. He's not suffocating. He’s not dying. He’s not dying. Everything is as it should be.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to breathe through his rising panic, but it's not working; every time he sucks air in, it's never enough. He either ends up coughing or barely breathing at all. Nothing and everything feels real at the same time, is he even in the room? The silence presses against his ears, making him feel so, so isolated in the worst way possible. Lorroakan is dead. He can’t hurt him anymore, so why does he still dream of him?

Why does he still dream of her?

“Rolan…” A sleepy voice mutters, before he feels steady arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into another body. He bristles momentarily, almost spiraling into panic once more until he realizes who it is that holds him.

It’s warm, and it’s secure.

It's Tav. It’s safe.

He lets out an exhausted, shaky sigh, leaning back into the hold. His skin glistens from the cold sweat he woke up to. When he lifts up his hands to try and hold theirs, he sees how much they shake; his fingers twitch uncontrollably, and he idly notices that there were small sparks of magic attempting to get conjured. The spell is unrecognizable with how unstable it looks, he can't tell which one it is. Mage Armor? Magic Missile? Thunderwave?-

He feels Tav leave gentle kisses on the back of his neck and across his shoulder blades, making his internal questions pause. “Are you alright?” They question softly, but they know the answer; they know him too well, but it seems they want to hear him say it anyways.

A deep breath echoes in the bedroom, and he squeezes his eyes shut once more as the energy fades from his hands. “No.”

“Do you wish to speak on it?”

“No.”

“For later then. Come here.” They murmur, pulling him to lay back down.

He relents, but he feels disgusting with all the sweat. Gods, why is he sweating so much, and why does he feel cold? The dream was over, it was done.

Tav did not seem to mind the fact he clings to them, turning and letting him hide his face in their neck. It was a little awkward with the horns, but they make it work with their chin resting on his head. He feels their hand start to scratch at his scalp, and the amount of relief that gives him is absolutely embarrassing. His tail curls around their leg to keep them close, and the comforting sensations almost make him want to cry. They peck the top of his head, nuzzling into his sweat damp hair.

He doesn’t deserve this. He really doesn’t.

He’s unsure how long they lay there, it was mostly him trying to calm his heart. He feels fingers gently trace the ridges on his skin, cautious in how they touch. They were sensitive, and the trailing warmth made him shiver. He knows they’re trying to distract him; It’s sweet of them, truly, but his depression grips his chest so deeply. Usually he can handle these on his own. He’s a confident man, and he knows he has Cal and Lia by his side. That they want to stay by his side. If they thought anything else, they wouldn't stay in this tower he took over after the death of his teacher.

But some days are like these, where he can barely move and thinks he deserves nothing after butting into a family that will never be his.

Tav shouldn’t have to deal with this, though they think otherwise, it seems. It isn’t the first time this happened, he's had night terrors that sent him in a panic so bad he vomited and he can't even remember what it was even about. It bewildered and embarrassed him, but Tav didn't even say anything about it, they only cleaned him and the mess up as if it was not a problem. It won’t be the last time this will occur, no matter how much he wants it to be. But that’s what Tav signed up for, happily. They wanted Rolan, with all of his flaws and night terrors.

They shift slightly, pulling Rolan's body on top of them so he can rest there, arms snaking around his waist. Holding him close, their grip was loose in case this wasn’t okay. But Rolan only lays limply against them, energy gone but unable to go back sleep.

He just sees eyes.

“-ght, Rolan?”

Oh, they’re calling him. He can’t force his tongue to work. It feels heavy in his mouth.

They push some hair away from his eyes before cupping his jaw. “My love,” He listens, but their voice is muffled when it tries to reach his ears, a constant ring blocking the sound. It’s so loud. So loud. So loud-

A part of him startles when they start rubbing at his ears. They’re particularly sensitive, they know this after nibbling on them at some point in an attempt to be playful, and it’s enough to make him whine at the touch.

“Rolan,” They murmur, kissing him right between the eyes. “Come back to me, lovely. You'll be okay; you're with me, yes?”

He wants to believe that, even just for a little bit.

He buries his face in their chest, wanting to lay there. To be held, to be comforted. Doesn’t he deserve that after all the bullshit he’s been through? After the torture, the pain, the loneliness?

No.

No he doesn’t, and the thought alone makes him want to drink until he's numb, just like at Last Light Inn, where he thought his siblings, his only family, were dead and gone. Or possibly being tortured at Moonrise Towers. He doesn't know which one was worse to think about, his imagination knowing no bounds in its creativity. What would they have done, if the True Souls decided to hurt them? Would they take their eyes and cut out their tongues like how they did with Asharak-

Before his mind could grow darker, thumbs continue stroking his pointy ears as Tav speaks, “What’s the difference between Transmutation and Evocation? I keep forgetting...” Tav quizzes, feigning innocence.

A foolish question, even a child could answer it…but it’s distracting.

“Transmutation will physically alter the form of an object, or fundamentally change something in its entirety. Evocation is damaging effects mostly used in combat, but will also be used to heal wounds, as you see with clerics.”

“And what is another school useful in combat?”

“Abjuration; it specializes in defense protocols but some spells can be useful in combat, like Counterspell.”

They hum at the response, pulling him up more to kiss his forehead, right between his devilish horns. “You’re so smart, Master Rolan.”

He lets out a stuttering breath. Gods, this night is awful. He feels awful, Tav shouldn't have to deal with this.

When they suddenly start to sit up, his already fragile heart dropped into his nauseated stomach. Did they get sick of him already? Are they going to leave? Will they-

“Let’s take a bath.”

This snaps him out of his raging thoughts, staring at their eyes. "It’s late,” He states after a long moment of contemplating.

“So? Who’s going to be knocking on our door telling us not to take a bath in our own home? It’s your tower,” They say, helping him sit up as well before smiling teasingly. “Let’s take a bath, I’m sure being all sweaty is grossing you out.”

He is reluctant, but doesn’t say no when they help him out of the bed. It felt as if his body refused to move. It’s tense and rigid, his tail curled around his own leg. He can't look at them, and he’s unsure if it’s out of shame or out of fear. Fear of what? Tav? No, no! That would be idiotic to fear them. They love him. He loves them. He loves them so much it hurts. If he could rip out his very soul and gift it to them, he would do so without a second thought.

Their hand holds his firmly, something to ground him into their reality, and they lead him towards their private bathing room, decorated in lovely tapestries with a variety of colors. Some have subtle designs and are more abstract, while others have vivid images of Tav's heroics of Baldur's Gate. It's a courtesy of some citizens that they were gifted, but he cannot tell yet if they even like them there or not; still, he hung them up high for display because...well, he is so proud of them, how could he not be? He certainly thinks some of them are tacky, and he voices that opinion often, and it always makes his love laugh. The sweet, delicate smell of lavender hits his senses after Tav fills their large basin with water, bubbles forming almost instantly.

He watches their movements, seeing them strip off their clothes and kicking them off the side before they approach him again. Their hands smooth over his forearms, and they peck his nose as they unlace his trousers, stripping him as well. He lets them, a feral instinct inside of him begging for the touch, begging for any form of love they’re willing to give. He wants all of it, and he’s selfish for it.

They lead him into the basin first, getting in themselves after he’s settled. They then gently turn him around so he could press his back against their chest. It would be easier to wash his hair this way.

Both of them exchange no words, they only bathe Rolan while they hum to themselves, as if this was normal. This isn’t normal. He doesn’t deserve to be pampered when he’s done absolutely nothing to earn it. But he’s also too weak to resist.

So he lets them run their fingers through his hair, their nails scratching his scalp and rubbing the soap in. He closes his eyes when requested, letting the warm wash over him. Even when his hair and body are clean from the cold sweat, Tav insists on massaging his shoulders, working out any knots he may have. Being the master of a tower is stressful, after all.

During this he zones out, the silence deafening him as his thoughts run rampant once more. He hears them speak to him but the phrases never form coherently. Flashes of the dream drag him down into a form of despair, boring into him like ice pick.

His eyes start to sting, but then his worst fear comes to life; he starts to weep. He’s cried very few times in his life, and even then, those few times they at least warranted tears. He was allowed to cry. But this? In front of Tav and over a gods damned dream?

It only gets worse, because the weeping turns into full blown sobs, body curling forward with his face almost touching the dirty water as he hugs himself tight. His body thinks it’s in danger, somehow, and he can’t pull himself together. Voices tell him he’s nothing and deserves nothing.

Tav soothes him, leaning over him and littering kisses across his shoulders. They say nothing, and he’s thankful for it. He can’t imagine trying to speak in this state, when he tries his words die on his tongue. It's as if like he’s choking all over again, and the urge to cough grows.

Eventually his sobs delude to into sniffles and barely silent whimpers. Tav still doesn’t speak, nuzzling into the soaked skin on the back of his neck. When he calms down, Tav helps him out of the basin after getting out themselves, drying him off and changing him into new night clothes, one that was clean and softer than the one he chose before. He felt pathetic not being able to change himself, but he had no will to do so.

“I’m sorry,” He hears himself croak out. “You should be sleeping.”

Gods, they shouldn't have to even deal with him. What he went through is only a fraction of what they've been through. They saved the entire Sword Coast, possibly the entire world from the Absolute, all while they had a damn tadpole in their heads threatening to turn them and their friends into illithids. Yet, they're doing so gods damn well in their lives, a greedy part of him thinking it's unfair. Why are they fine while he is not? How did they do it?

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You had a bad dream, it happens more often than you would think,” They say, tracing their lips against his cheek while he processes the implication of their statement. “We don’t have to talk about it now. Just know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Though he lacks the energy for it, his mind wants to kiss them so deeply a never let go. He wants to drown in them, in their scent, in their body- damn it all, why is he so needy? He hates- no, he loathes how needy he is, how fucking desperate he gets. It's pathetic; he is so utterly pathetic. Pitiful. Miserable.

When they pull him back to their shared bed and lay down once more, they let him get as close as he wants, and he is thankful for it. It ends up with arms around them tight, him burying his face into their neck while his tail curls around their thigh. He wants to be close tonight, a silent plea for them to let him know everything is okay.

So they indulge his wish, playing with his hair all the while. He probably won’t sleep much tonight, but that’s okay by them, they always preach. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, and they can and will live with that.

Healing is never linear, after all.

[xomakara]

Elevator

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You and Wooyoung are stuck in the elevator with nothing to do but talk. But when you are awfully aware of how close he is, you can’t help but act on your urges.

PAIRING | Wooyoung/Reader

GENRE | non-idol!Wooyoung, smut with no plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, oral, vaginal sex, elevator sex

RATING | Mature

LENGTH | 2593 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE | On the shorter side but still smutty~

"Nononono. This can't be happening." You ran a hand through your hair, sliding down the walls of the elevator as it stopped moving. The lights were out and you could barely make out the figure of the man who stood next to you.

Of all days to get a power outage!

"Freaking out like that isn't going to make things better." The man muttered, his voice low and calm. "Breathe deep. Count to ten. Do something productive. Shit. I forgot what to do when things go bad."

He added, not sounding at all sincere.

You didn't need him to tell you to breathe; you'd been doing so since the lights went out in the first place. Your heart was pounding and the sweat on your palms made them slippery. The whole situation was just freaking bizarre and the adrenaline pumping through your body wasn't helping either.

You knew you had a bad feeling when you woke up this morning as you struggled to get out of bed. All your work clothes were in the laundry hamper, a lightbulb went out in your bathroom while you showered, you ran out of coffee and there was nothing left to eat for breakfast besides half an apple that had turned brown overnight.

On top of all that, the bathroom mirror showed that the faint lines around your eyes were more pronounced than usual.

And now you're stuck in the company's elevator with that very attractive employee in your department, one who is probably pissed off that he can't find anything to do while trapped here too.

"I knew I should have called in today." You muttered, burying your face in your hands. "This day couldn't possibly get any worse."

"How worse could it be?" The man asked, looking slightly annoyed but also amused by the sight of you bawling your eyes out on the elevator floor. He took a few steps forward before stopping again, taking another deep breath. "It's just a power outage after all. It happens every now and then."

"True enough." You agreed, raising your head to look up at him. "I just can't believe I'm stuck here with you."

"What's wrong with being stuck in an elevator with me?" He laughed.

"Not funny, Wooyoung." You frowned. "God, I can already hear all the other ladies in our department talking shit about me. Why do I always get myself into these situations? Like I haven't got enough problems as it is."

"I mean there's one way we can deter the shit talking." He smirked, gesturing at himself suggestively.

You groaned and shook your head. You really needed to get out of here soon or else your colleague was going to try to make a move on you and then you'll be really fucked. Not that you weren't interested in the idea, but you've heard some horror stories from friends who hooked up with co-workers and most of them ended badly.

You glanced around nervously, wondering how long the power outage would last and how long you'd be stuck in this elevator. You wondered if they'd think of any contingency plan if they realized how much time had passed since the lights went out. Maybe they'd sent maintenance to fix it? Hopefully someone will come soon.

"What are you thinking about, Y/N?" Wooyoung asked, sinking to the floor next to you. His legs crossed and his arms resting casually on his knees. "Having second thoughts about making a move on me?"

"I am not trying to make a move on you, no matter how attractive you may be." You mumbled. "Are you really sure you want to know what I'm thinking?"

"I have been told I have good hearing." He grinned, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. "Go ahead and tell me. Whatever it is, I won't judge you."

"Just being in this elevator is making my anxiety go up the wazoo." You sighed, sitting back against the wall.

"That's why I'm trying to distract you." He said with a shrug. "So, you really want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"I've just had such a bad day." You sighed. "I struggled to get out of bed this morning. All my work clothes were in the hamper, the light bulbs went out during my shower, I didn't have any breakfast except for a stupid apple that turned brown and I ran out of coffee this morning. Everything seemed to conspire against me this morning and..."

You took a deep breath and stared down at your feet, knowing that if you looked at him, you might let yourself get carried away. Wooyoung squeezed your hands gently.

"This kind of thing doesn't happen to me. I've always got my shit together, but today, everything seems to fall apart. One after the other." You muttered.

"Y/N, don't feel embarrassed about having bad days. Everyone has them." He murmured. "Sometimes life can be cruel and unjust, leaving us to struggle with burdens we never thought we could carry alone. It happens to the best of us."

"Maybe." You sighed. "But sometimes you wish that sometimes those bad days wouldn't happen at all."

"Well, we can't always get what we want, right?" He smiled gently. "But if we accept reality as it is, rather than as we wish it to be, perhaps we'll feel better and cope better with whatever life throws at us."

"Who are you and what have you done to the cocky Wooyoung I work with?" You let out an amused sigh. "Is it possible to see two sides of a person at once? Because I definitely saw a different side of you today. Thank you for being nice to me."

"Oh come on, it's nothing special." He waved his hand dismissively. "But I'd like a kiss as payment for comforting you. That's if...you want to."

You looked at him, eyes taking in his handsome face. His messy hair, slightly tousled from always running his hands through them. Those eyes that made you weak in the knees. The lips that were dangerously close to yours.

"Do you want to kiss me?" He asked quietly, tilting his head to the side.

There was a moment where neither of you moved, staring deeply into each other's eyes until finally Wooyoung leaned closer and pressed his lips against yours softly.

The soft kiss surprised you, making you pull away slightly. But Wooyoung didn't seem fazed by it and instead he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. You returned the kiss, brushing your lips against his before pressing your mouth more firmly against his.

Your lips parted slightly as he continued to press kisses to your lips, opening wider as his tongue slid along the seam of your mouth, exploring every corner until finally parting to allow him entrance. He tasted faintly of coffee, which made you wonder if he drank a cup before he came down here, but his taste was still pleasantly sweet.

"You know I could care less about what our coworkers would say about us." He muttered against your lips. "I only have eyes for you."

His words, along with his closeness and the scent of his cologne filled your senses and slowly your breathing became deeper, almost as though your lungs were expanding and pushing the air inside even further. The electricity flowing between you caused goosebumps to rise on your skin, spreading all over your body as his hands tightened their grip around your waist.

As much as you wanted to deny it, his lips and his touch were sending sparks of pleasure shooting across your skin and a warm sensation rushed to your core.

"Wooyoung..." You moaned, closing your eyes tightly. You felt his lips graze your jawline, before moving lower to nip at your earlobe. A shiver ran down your spine and your knees began to weaken, causing you to lean back against the wall behind you.

"Y/N..." He whispered, nibbling at your neck before he began to suckle your earlobe. "Do you want me to stop?"

The question caught you completely off guard and you opened your eyes to stare into his. In the dim lighting of the elevator, your pupils were drawn into his dark eyes, which seemed to have gone darker, taking on a darker shade.

"No." You breathed, leaning in to press your lips against his.

And Wooyoung seemed equally affected by your kiss. Before you could blink, his hands reached up and grabbed the sides of your face, pulling you towards him so that your lips met once more.

With every kiss, the intensity grew and soon you were lost in the sensations coursing through your body. When he pulled away slightly to give you a chance to catch your breath, your breath hitched and you licked your lips before reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

The man in front of you was no longer the Wooyoung you usually worked with. Instead, he looked like a man who knows exactly what he wants and won't hesitate to take it.

"Don't stop." You breathed out, Wooyoung lifted you in his arms. His face darkened with desire and his breath came out in shallow pants as he gazed down at you with hunger in his eyes. "Please..."

He dropped to his knees, lifting your skirt and tugging your panties aside, revealing your pussy. It was slick with excitement and arousal and you felt your breath quicken. The sight of your cunt getting wetter was arousing and thrilling, as he looked up at you expectantly.

Before you could stop him, he slipped two fingers inside your pussy and began to stroke you, bringing out small whimpers of pleasure. He continued to slide his fingers in and out of you, fucking you with such skill and control.

Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, feeling weak from the pleasure he brought you and you sank back against the wall, needing something to hold onto. He didn't need to be told twice and quickly placed his hand under your knee, bringing it to rest on his shoulder, his face now buried between your thighs.

You let out a gasp when his tongue began to lap at your clit, teasing it and making it throb with pleasure. You closed your eyes and tilted your hips upwards, allowing him better access to your center. Your hips bucked erratically, driving his tongue faster, while his fingers kept pumping in and out of you.

He hummed and thrust his tongue harder against your clit, causing you to moan loudly. You started panting heavily, sucking in your bottom lip as he began to finger fuck you in earnest, fastening his pace. There was no mistaking it anymore. He was totally focused on pleasuring you, intent on giving you mind blowing orgasms.

The combination of the electric shocks from his fingers in conjunction with the vibrations from his tongue was too much to bear. Soon your hips began to buck violently, moaning and whimpering, driven mad by the pleasure that overwhelmed you.

"Fuck!"

It was unlike anything you ever experienced before. As you screamed his name, letting go of all control, all you could do was keep your orgasm coming, flooding his mouth with your juices until your body relaxed against the wall and he withdrew his tongue, licking the last traces of your cum from his lips.

"Holy fuck..." You gasped, catching your breath.

"Good?" He asked, kissing your inner thigh and working his way up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips, but it only added to your arousal.

"So good but now..." Your knees went weak and you rested your forehead against his. "Now I need you to fuck me."

In an instant, he lifted you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. The position left you open and vulnerable, as he settled himself between your legs and pushed forward, burying his cock deep inside you. You gasped as you took his length fully, enjoying the fullness of him. The feel of him filling you to capacity.

Wooyoung thrust in and out of you, setting a steady pace that made you cling onto him. With each thrust, his pelvis smacked against your clit, making you cry out.

The speed increased as you leaned back against the wall, lifting your ass higher to accommodate him. Wooyoung gripped your hips, moving them back and forth with precision, hitting just the right spot. He pressed kisses to your neck, then your ears before finding your lips again.

The combination of the feel of his hands gripping your hips and the feel of his hard cock pulsating inside you, sent ripples of pleasure shooting through your body, igniting your passion.

"Oh God...Wooyoung..." You groaned, arching your back as his tongue found its way to your earlobe.

"You feel so good. I could fuck you forever." He whispered, thrusting into you harder and harder, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. "Can I fuck you forever?"

"Yes please...Yes. Yes.." You moaned, pressing your body tighter against his.

His moans were growing louder as he thrust into you faster and faster, matching your pace. With every thrust, his fingers dug into your hips, holding you tight against him. Every time you pressed back against him, he let out a long groan, then immediately buried himself inside you, fucking you harder and harder.

"Y/N... Y/N... Come for me..." He groaned against your ear.

It took every ounce of willpower not to let yourself cum, but his moans and the feel of his hard cock deep inside you drove you crazy and you knew you couldn't hold back any longer.

The muscles in your stomach clenched and a tremor coursed through your body as another orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling. Wooyoung thrust harder, gritting his teeth and growling as he came with you. The sight of him losing control and calling out your name made your heart skip a beat and make your knees buckle.

But before you could fall to the floor, he caught you in his arms and held you tightly, kissing you tenderly. You were completely spent and all you wanted was to collapse into his arms.

"I got you." He whispered, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

As soon as Wooyoung placed you on your feet, the power kicked back on and the elevator started moving again. The both of you let out a laugh as you fixed your clothes, making sure that nothing had fallen out of place.

"Wooyoung?" You turned to look at him, smiling at him. "Thank you."

He grasped your hand, linking your fingers together as you walked towards the doors. "Anytime."

As the elevator door opened, he let go of your hand, placing his hands on the doors and holding them open for you. He watched as you exited the elevator, giving you one last smile before he followed you.

When you got to your desk and Wooyoung to his, you were both silent, content in the fact that you had each other and no one else knew what had happened between the two of you. And when you turned to look at your phone, you saw a text from him asking if you wanted to get dinner later.

Your heart skipped a beat as your face lit up with a wide smile. The night was still young and there was plenty of time for you and Wooyoung to enjoy it together.