#like they handed the cup around and I took a swallow then IMMEDIATELY went to the drinking fountain and spat and swallowed water

[just-a-little-moth]

yeah.

pspspspsps poetry mutuals come here... new quiz... making you the patron saint of something...

[gf2bellamy]

omgg could i request bubbly reader whos always smiling and giggling but one day an officer (or whoever) says shes being unprofessional and too much and it makes her so so sad so she tones it down and spencer is so upset seeing her like this bc shes the light of his life

-🦨

light — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: sunshine!reader feels insecure abt herself, mention of officer saying she's being unprofessional a/n: hii 🦨 !! hope this is what you asked for <3

"Morning." Your voice was quieter than usual, your smile smaller—just a polite curve of your lips rather than the bright, beaming grin the team was used to. You walked into the conference room, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you took your usual seat.

Morgan and Emily immediately exchanged a glance.

Normally, your entrance was impossible to miss—an enthusiastic, cheerful “Good morning!” ringing through the air, maybe even a playful comment about someone’s coffee choice or how exhausted everyone looked.

“Morning, sunshine.” Morgan’s voice was gentler than usual. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, forcing another smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.” The words felt rehearsed, like a line you had practiced just to avoid further questions. You glanced up at him for only a second before lowering your gaze to the table.

Emily’s frown deepened as she studied you, before cutting her eyes to Morgan again. Neither of them were buying it.

The door opened, and Spencer walked in, carrying two coffees.

He placed one in front of you like he always did—a silent little tradition between the two of you. Normally, this would earn him that smile, the one that made his heart stutter in his chest. The one that felt like warmth on the coldest days.

You would’ve reached for his hand—his hand, the one no one else was allowed to touch—and squeezed it, your fingers lingering just a little too long, just like they always did.

But today?

“Thanks,” you mumbled, barely looking up. You wrapped your hands around the cup, but nothing more. No smile. No touch.

Spencer’s spine went rigid. His fingers twitched at his sides as he stood there, processing, waiting—hoping—for a second longer than necessary. When nothing else came, he hesitated before reluctantly taking his own seat.

Emily and Morgan’s eyes were already on him when he looked up, their silent concern mirroring his own. He swallowed hard.

Something was wrong.

But it just got worse from there.

When Garcia called, her voice bubbled through the speakerphone, laced with her usual flair. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite team of crime-fighting superheroes! Tell me, my loves, who needs saving today?"

Usually, you’d fire something right back—some exaggerated response about how she was the real superhero or how you were tragically in need of her brilliance. Instead, silence stretched for a beat too long before Rossi finally spoke up, filling the gap where your usual laughter should have been.

At that moment, even Hotch—who rarely indulged in team gossip—glanced at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. A whole five seconds in Hotchner time. That was basically a siren blaring that something was wrong.

Your usual energy, the lightness that kept them all going, was gone. Every word you spoke was muted, every sentence clipped.

You kept your gaze trained on files, your hands fidgeting with the corner of the page, and when someone addressed you, your responses were polite but distant.

Spencer watched you more than he paid attention to the case briefing.

His mind ran through every possibility, every variable that could explain this drastic shift. Were you sick? Had something happened? Had someone said something?

His stomach twisted at the thought.

Spencer caught up to you just as you reached your hotel room that night. You glanced at him, surprised. The cool metal of your keycard was still in your hand when he spoke.

“Can I talk to you?” His voice was careful and concerned.

You hesitated.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was about. The stolen glances from the team, the way Spencer had been watching you all day. It was obvious. You could still avoid the conversation if you wanted to. You could brush it off, say you were tired, say you had work to do.

But a part of you knew you couldn’t do that. Not to him.

So you sighed, slipping the keycard into the slot and pushing open the door. “Yeah. Sure.”

Spencer followed you in, shutting the door behind him as you plopped down on the bed. You leaned back on your hands, crossing your legs, trying to look nonchalant—trying to make this feel like nothing.

“So,” you said, offering a weak smile, “what did you want to talk about?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He just stood there for a moment, watching you, hands fidgeting at his sides.

A beat of silence.

“You.” The word landed between you like a grenade with the pin pulled.

Spencer took a step closer, his voice dropping. “You haven’t smiled all day. You didn’t laugh at Garcia’s joke. You didn’t even—” He cut himself off, fingers flexing at his sides. “You didn’t squeeze my hand.”

The admission hung in the air, fragile and aching.

Your stomach twisted. He noticed. Of course he noticed. You looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“That's a lie.”

Your head snapped up. Spencer was rarely so direct.

“You think I don’t know you?” he said, voice cracking. “You think I wouldn’t notice when the best part of my day just—just disappears?”

The honesty in his words punched through you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because what could you say? That some stranger’s offhand comment had unraveled you? That you’d spent the entire day replaying his words in your head like a broken record?

Unprofessional. Too much. Annoying.

Spencer took another step forward, his voice softening. “Talk to me. Please.”

Your throat tightened as you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing against your ribs.

Spencer Reid—your Spencer—was looking at you like you’d just ripped the stars from his sky.

You swallowed hard, forcing out a breath that barely made it past the knot in your chest. “It’s stupid,” you whispered.

Spencer shook his head immediately. “It’s not.”

You let out a hollow laugh, rubbing your palms over your thighs. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

His voice softened even more, barely above a breath. “And I still know it’s not stupid.”

That did it. The dam cracked, then crumbled, then completely shattered.

“Someone—someone said I was too much.” You exhaled shakily, finally putting the ugly truth into the open. “That I was being unprofessional—that I need to tone it down because I laugh too much, because I smile too much, because I don’t act like—” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists against the overwhelming sting in your eyes. “Like I belong here.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. You finally met his gaze and all you saw as fury. Not at you, never at you—but at the words that had managed to dull your light.

He took another step closer. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if you’d let him.

“Who?” His voice was controlled, but barely.

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me.”

God. Why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were something precious, something irreplaceable, something he wasn’t willing to lose to someone else’s careless words?

You chewed on your bottom lip, shaking your head again. “It’s not like he was wrong, Spence.” You forced a smile, but even you could feel how empty it was. “I am a lot. And maybe I do need to—”

“Don’t.” The word was firm. Gentle, but unyielding.

Spencer exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. “You are not too much,” he said, each syllable deliberate. “And whoever made you think that doesn’t understand what this team—what I—would be without you.”

Your breath hitched, tears threatening to spill over.

“You make things better.” His voice cracked, and it nearly shattered you. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you walk into a room and not light it up?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It—it hurts.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it quickly, but Spencer had already seen.

And that was when he finally moved.

Slowly, carefully, he reached for your hand. His fingers, warm and steady, curled around yours—just like they always did. The same comforting touch you’d given him a hundred times before.

Except this time, he was the one holding you together.

“Please don’t dim yourself because of someone who doesn’t understand how lucky they are to know you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. Your lip quivered.

Spencer slowly let go of your hand, his warmth lingering even as his fingers slipped away. He didn’t move far, though. Instead, he lowered himself in front of you.

His hand hesitated just inches from your face, his breath uneven. “Can I?” he asked softly, his fingertips ghosting near your cheek.

You swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod.

Spencer wiped away the tear with a touch so gentle it made your chest ache. But his hand didn’t drop. It hovered there, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His thumb traced just beneath your eye, barely skimming your skin, as if he could erase not just the tear but the weight of everything that had led to it.

His voice, when it came, was a whisper—rough around the edges.

“Whoever said that to you… they don’t know you. Not the way I do.”

You exhaled shakily, blinking at him.

“They don’t know the way your laugh makes even the worst days bearable.” His thumb barely moved, brushing against your cheekbone. “They don’t know how your energy—your light—makes all of us better. How it makes me better.”

A fresh tear slipped free. Spencer caught it before it could fall.

His other hand lifted then, resting gently on your knee. Another silent plea for you to believe him.

“I don’t want you to change.” His voice cracked.

You bit your lip, trying to keep the emotion at bay, but it was useless. His words—his kindness—were unraveling you.

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was gathering courage, and then—so quietly you almost didn’t hear it—

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your breath hitched. A teary-eyed smile broke across your face before you could stop it. And then—without thinking, without hesitating—you threw yourself into his arms.

Spencer barely had time to brace himself, but to your luck, he held firm, his balance steady despite the force of your embrace. His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, your voice muffled.

Spencer let out a breath. His hand moved in slow, soothing strokes along your back.

When you finally pulled back, you sniffled, brushing away the last few stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. Spencer watched you, his expression impossibly soft, his own smile small but so incredibly fond.

You inhaled deeply, gathering yourself before flashing him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow—back to being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Spencer’s ears went bright red. He opened his mouth—whether to protest or agree, you weren’t sure—but all that came out was a flustered little laugh as he ducked his head.

The next morning, Spencer was already waiting for you when you stepped into the conference room.

Two coffees sat on the table—one in front of his usual seat, the other carefully placed at yours.

You bit back a smile.

Spencer was flipping through a case file, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

“Good morning, everyone!” you greeted, voice bright and chipper, just like always.

Morgan and Emily—who had clearly been watching you like hawks since yesterday—immediately exchanged a look before turning back to you.

“There she is,” Morgan grinned, arms crossing over his chest. “I was starting to think we’d lost our sunshine.”

You smirked. “Please. You could never get rid of me that easily.”

Garcia gasped dramatically through the speakerphone. “Oh, thank God! Do you know how hard it is being the only source of light in a room full of broody FBI agents? I almost cracked under the pressure.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the team, but you weren’t really paying attention.

Because across the table, Spencer was staring at you.

Not in the way he had yesterday, all worried and desperate to fix something he didn’t understand—but in the way he always did.

With quiet awe. With warmth. With something so soft it made your heart ache.

You sank into your chair, reaching for the coffee he’d placed in front of you. The cup was still warm, and when you took a sip, it was exactly the way you liked it.

You glanced at Spencer, eyes twinkling. When you reached under the table to squeeze his hand—just like you always did—Spencer let you.

And just like that, the warmth returned. And Spencer knew, without a doubt, he would do anything to keep it shining.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Or Someone Finds The Lid.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Severe Infantilization, Forced Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Wildly Unhealthy Dynamics, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Geto Suguru has an Oral Fixation, Gojo Satou has a Mommy Kink, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One]

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It had to be close to the hundredth time you’d in the past week, in the days since you woke up in a distressingly pastel bedroom, hostage to your two always worryingly possessive, but only recently deranged boyfriends. You knew, more concretely, that it was around the eleventh time you’d spouted that exact line today and the fourth time in the past hour, and as always, you were answered with a sympathetic glance, a patronizingly sweet smile. You could only be thankful it was coming from Satoru, this time. Suguru would’ve been much more condescending.

“Because we love you.” Another common sentiment, purred with just as much enthusiasm as it had been the first time you’d heard it, or the twelfth, or the forty-seventh. “And because you look good in pink.”

You sighed audibly, and Satoru pretended not to notice – only pulling you that much closer and resting his head on your shoulder. You were quickly learning that personal space, like many prior luxuries you hadn’t known to enjoy, was a right that Satoru and Suguru could revoke at will. Currently, your body was folded against Satoru’s – your back slotted against his chest and his legs spread on either side of you, the chain still attached to your ankle spread out over the mattress and the handheld console he was only partially focused on balanced on your lap. You tried to treasure the opportunity to stare mindlessly at a screen (a special privilege, considering your usual means of entertainment consisted of crayons, elementary-grade chapter books, and a plastic tea set), but for whatever reason, watching Satoru play Animal Crossing for three consecutive hours was just as under stimulating as it had been pre-kidnapping.

“That’s not a real answer.” You nudged your elbow into his chest, and when that didn’t work, pushed at his arm, just trying to get his attention. Yet another perk of your newly assigned position in this relationship – Satoru and Suguru had never made an exceptional effort to listen to you before, but now, you might as well have been speaking another language. “This is just—It’s just been so much, and it’s all so frustrating, and I don’t—”

And, just like that, you were tearing up – your vision going foggy as you struggled to hold back tears, to swallow down the whine building at the base of your throat. It was less that you’d been crying more easily and more than you were always on the verge of tears; your anger and frustration and confusion constantly at their peaks, just waiting for an excuse to spill over and leak out. Immediately, Satoru dropped his console, cooing softly as he scooped you up and turned you around. You moved to hide your face, but he was faster, more determined – his hands cupping your cheeks before you could swat him away. You weren’t crying yet, not really, but he took pains to hum and kiss away the few tears that escaped despite your best efforts. It was alarming, that crying was the only thing that consistently got them to hear you out. You tried not to think about the implications of that when paired with the pastel-pink aesthetic and the overall toddler-adjacent treatment.

“I’m really frustrated, ‘toru,” you repeated, melting into his hands. There was another coo, another peck to your forehead, before you went on. “I just— I need to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, baby. It’s because we—” You cut in with a miserable, heart-breakingly pathetic sniffle, and Satoru pouted, shaking his head. Still, he broke quickly enough. “Look, you know that Suguru and I had it kinda rough before we met you, right? When we were growing up, I mean.”

Vaguely. You knew that Suguru’s parents died while he was in high school, that it’d been some kind of freak accident, but he didn’t like to talk about it. You’d met Satoru’s family once, but ‘met’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. Really, you’d sat in the antechamber of an estate the side of a small shopping mall for a little over an hour, answering questions asked by a woman who hadn’t introduced herself before being informed that, while you were not deemed a suitable partner for Satoru, you also weren’t dangerous enough to be worth the effort it would take to actively keep you away from him. Most of the time, you just tried to pretend that neither of your former partners, current captors had any immediate family.

Reluctantly, you nodded, and Satoru rewarded you with another kiss – this one to the corner of your jaw. “I know you probably don’t get it, but me and Suguru – we care about you, we care about you a lot. And the world’s a really, really dangerous place. If something happened to you out there…” He trailed off, laughing airily. An arm looped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, his chest. Instead of trying to resist, you curled against him, burying your face in his shirt as he rubbed slow, small circles into the small of your back. “You’re better off here. Getting to keep you all to ourselves is just a bonus.”

You wanted to scream, to bash your fists against his chest, to point out that they were the only people who’d ever isolated, assaulted, or kidnapped you, but he was doing what you asked him to, and the worst thing you could’ve done was give him a reason not to be as generous in the future. “…I don’t understand why you had to do—” You nodded towards your clothes – a set of bright pink cotton pajamas dotted with strawberries – then the rest of the room. “—this, though, if you’re trying to keep me safe. Couldn’t you have just… not?”

Another laugh, this one more sincere. “That part’s just for us.” This time, when he squeezed you against his chest, he didn’t let go until you were squirming against him, struggling to breathe. “Suguru does tend to let the roleplay get a little out-of-hand, but it really does help. There’s just something about seeing you all sweet n’ dressed up, surrounded by cute, soft things...” He trailed off with an airy laugh. “Makes me feel… secure, y’know? Like we’re keeping you safe.”

Something thick and jagged caught in your throat. “…this was Suguru’s idea?”

If he heard you, then that was a question he wasn’t interested in answering. “I meant the other part, too.” And then, with a slightly longer, more lingering kiss to the apex of your throat. “You look really good in pink.”

You felt it a second later – a familiar shape pressing into your ass, already worryingly stiff. You pulled away from him, your disgust too reflexive to hide. “…it gets you hard to see adult women dressed like first-graders?”

“No, princess.” A pause, a sudden nip to the side of your neck. “It gets me hard when you dress like a first-grader.”

Thankfully, before you had time to start to unpack that, you heard the bedroom door open and glanced over your shoulder to find Suguru leaning against the frame. Concern was written clearly across his expression, but it dulled to affectionate exasperation when he saw Satoru wiping away your non-existent tears. “I thought I heard a struggle,” he explained, unprompted. You hadn’t put up much of a physical fight yet, but they were both clearly concerned you would – the literal chain around your ankle was evidence enough of that. “Is it time for the little princess to take her medicine?”

You seized up at the mention of your ‘medicine’ – sedatives administered in the form of tiny, heart-shaped pills that left you exhausted and disoriented for hours at a time, if they didn’t knock you out entirely. It was what they’d used the night they’d taken you, and Suguru seemed to like to pull them out whenever you cried, or screamed, or did anything they should’ve known to expect from an acclimating victim.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t jump at the opportunity to drug you into oblivion. Not this time, at least. “She got a little overwhelmed. I took care of it.”  You slumped against him, letting yourself relax. That was your mistake, really. Maybe you should’ve had more realistic expectations, too. “But,” he went on, pushing another, sloppier kiss into your neck. “She’s still pretty fragile. A few hours off probably wouldn’t hurt.”

It was awful – how easily they could talk about you like some distant, abstract subject, how quickly they seemed to forget you were capable of listening when not addressed directly. With a smile, Suguru moved forward, resting one knee on the edge of your mattress while Satoru held you in place – keeping you from scrambling back as far as your chain would allow. You tried to grit your teeth, to keep your mouth shut, but Suguru only clicked his tongue, cupping your face with one hand while pressing something small and chalky against your pursed lips with the other. “Darling,” he drawled, infusing as much syrupy condescension into the pet name as was humanly possible. “You remember what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told, don’t you?”

Instantly, your heart dropped. You remembered.

Driving your nails into your palms, you unlocked your jaw and hesitantly opened your mouth. Suguru barely waited for your lips to part before shoving the pill past your teeth and down your throat, keeping two lingers lodged in your airway even as you sputtered and gagged around him. It was less that you swallowed his pill and more that you would’ve had to choke down anything he all-but force-fed you, but whatever you called it, Suguru was satisfied – drawing back with a pleased hum only to tap his saliva-coated fingers against Satoru’s lips, instead. You shut your eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

The last thing you heard were the wet, stomach-turning noises of Satoru’s affection before everything went fuzzy.

~

You only really acted out once – about three weeks in, when the initial adrenaline was starting to fade and the slow, vicious dread of prolonged captivity had just begun to set in. You weren’t allowed to leave your windowless, ambiently lit bedroom, and by end of the first week, time had turned into something viscous and unforgiving, the endless hours only broken up by visits from Satoru and Suguru. It was hard not to be constantly on edge – unsure if you’d been alone for hours and minutes, simultaneously dying to see them again and hoping you never would. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, when you were so caught in in your own spiraling thoughts to try and guess at theirs.

Speaking of – their dynamic had become a little clearer, even if how things had spiraled out of control so quickly was still lost on you. You and Satoru had always been the dominant personalities in your relationship, with Suguru as the calming presence that leveled the two of you out, setting arguments and keeping you from tearing out each other’s throats. Now, though, the roles were reversed. Satoru was happy enough to spend most of his time treating you like an oversized, particularly uncooperative stuffed animal; something to cuddle and coo over, but not necessarily train or expect to reciprocate. Suguru, though…

Suguru had expectations.

“I need you to hold still, love.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed over your spine as he fiddled with the complex array of buttons lining the back of tonight’s nightgown. You’d seen your closest, knew they must’ve spent a small fortune on dresses and shoes and accessories, but Suguru still seemed to prefer you in sheer, cotton nightgowns and lacey lingerie and humiliatingly childish loungewear – nothing you would’ve been able to wear outside of home, even if you’d put it on willingly. It was a blessing that Suguru and Satoru were as busy as they were – Satoru with his classes and Suguru with his religious group. Most of the time, you’d find Suguru’s chosen outfit on the foot of your bed and be trusted to dress yourself. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Someone’s a little antsy.” It was Satoru, this time, as unhelpful as ever. He was sprawled across your bed, toying idly with your chain while you sat in front of a vanity on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding your reflection in the tri-fold mirror. “You should’ve let me play with her in the tub. Then, she wouldn’t have the energy to squirm.”

You felt your face burn. As if being forced to drink out of sippy cups and color with crayons wasn’t enough, bathtime was quickly becoming one of your most unbearable daily trails. Suguru always made sure things stayed above-board, but having to watch Satoru fuck his own fist while Suguru lovingly dictated where, when, and how roughly to clean yourself wasn’t much better than the alternative.

“Absolutely not. You’re too rough, and the last thing we want is for our princess to get bruised because you can’t wait another half an hour.” Fenagling the last button into place, Suguru straightened his back, sighing contentedly. “Can you turn around for me?”

Biting down on the side of your tongue, you shifted on the velvet-cushioned stool, your back pressing into the edge of the vanity’s counter as you faced Suguru. You’d made a point of not looking at yourself, but you could imagine what he saw – a thin nightgown clinging to your damp skin, your posture shrunken and your eyes downcast, every part of you made to seem small and helpless. If the feeling of his gaze burning into you wasn’t telling enough, the overwhelming delight audible in his voice would’ve given him away in a heartbeat. “Satoru, you have your phone, right? I want a picture. And—oh.” Your eyes darted in his direction just in time to see him pull a stuffed animal from one of the larger stacks; a large, white rabbit teddy, its button eyes an overly familiar shade of blue. He held it by its ears as he handed it to you. “Hold onto this for a second, love.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. You were in a bad position. You were in a bad place. You needed to be careful, and yet, when you finally managed to say something, you could only seem to spit out the one thing you knew he wouldn’t want to hear. “I… I really don’t want to take a picture right now, if that’s alright.”

To his credit, Suguru’s didn’t falter, his grin only wavering slightly. “Love,” He paused, sighed. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your breath hitched in your throat. Really, it was a miracle you weren’t already crying. “Please, Suguru. Not right now.”

His expression darkened, and yet, the gentle sigh that slipped past his lips was nothing short of tender. Still holding the rabbit, he reached out – catching the lace of your nightgown’s collar with two fingers. For a second, he just played with the delicate fabric, careful not to damage it.

Then, before you could think to react, his fist was around your neck and you were being slammed into the vanity.

There was enough force behind the collision to splinter the wood upon impact, to knock the air out of your lungs and seed an awful knot of blinding pain in the back of your head. You gasped, but it was too late – his fist tightened around your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move save what it took for your hands to find his and dig your nails into his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles, whatever you could reach. You never would’ve been able to pry him off, but you didn’t need to. He released you as abruptly as he’d lunged, and without his support, your body dropped off of the vanity’s now-dented desk and onto the carpeted floor, your dress falling into a limp heap around you. You were too shocked to cry, to sob, to scream. Suguru and Satoru had kidnapped you, dehumanized you, isolated you, but neither of them had ever hurt you. They’d never—

Except, that wasn’t true, was it? They had hurt you. The first thing Suguru ever didwas hurt you, bending you over his knee the second you disobeyed him, and Satoru helped.

For your own sake, you decided to consider this an escalation, a new development. Something neither of them would’ve been capable of, back when you still considered them your Suguru and your Satoru.

 You also decided, still for your own sake, that you couldn’t afford to think about this any longer. Suguru was already moving on, lowering himself to your height, pouting as he raked his fingers through your now-disheveled hair and evaluated your newly wrinkled dress. “I’m sorry, princess. I must’ve lost my temper. I know you must be upset – having your pretty outfit ruined and all.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

If you hadn’t been so scared, you might’ve slapped him. Instead, you just bit down on your bottom lip and mumbled an unsure “I… I’m sorry?”

“For what, exactly?”

“For—For talking back, and making you angry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love, I know. You would never mean to do anything like that.” He was still holding onto that fucking rabbit. You felt its velvet-soft material brush against your leg as he placed it, almost carefully, on the floor next to you. “I’ll tell you what – there don’t have to be any pictures. Why don’t you take your medicine, and we can allgo to bed?”

“No!” It was a purely automatic response, as reflexive as lashing out and latching onto his arm. When you realized what you were doing, you pulled away with a jolt, forcing your hands back into your lap and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “I mean, I’m sorry, I just—” You swallowed harshly. “Isn’t there… uh, another option? Please?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but Satoru cut in before he had the chance to answer. “Think it’s time to break out her pacifier, Suguru?”

You perked up. No part of you wanted to suck on a piece of plastic for the entertainment of your captors, sure, but it was better than the alternative. Fuck, you were having trouble of thinking of something that wasn’t.

Suguru seemed to like the idea, too. He shot Satoru an appreciative smile before pushing himself to his feet, before turning his attention back to you, eagerly waiting for your next bout of psychological torture.

It was only when he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants that you realized your mistake.

You might’ve protested – or, whined, at least – but the back of your skull still ached, and you could still see Satoru smirking in your peripheral, and he was already forcing his boxers below his hips, already curling a hand around the shaft of his cock. Disgustingly, terrifyingly, he was half-hard; his bloated tip flushed a darker shade of red, beads of arousal leaking from his blunt head and dripping down his shaft. Your thoughts seemed to waver, then fry, then blot out altogether – like a video game glitching in the middle of a cut scene. Maybe you should’ve just sat still for the fucking picture after all.

“The poor thing looks so startled,” Suguru cooed, glancing to Satoru. “Why don’t you lend her a hand?”

You were vaguely aware of Satoru moving, shifting, pushing himself off of your bed and crouching behind you. His thumb pushed past your lips and hooked your lower jaw easing your mouth open with as little grace as you had remaining dignity. You tried to bite down, obviously, but Suguru took hold of your hair and pulled – the sharp spike of pain immediately dispelling any thoughts of disobedience. “He’s helping you,” Suguru chimed, his voice taking on a cloying overtone. “You’ll have to thank him properly later on. When your mouth isn’t full, I mean.”

It wasn’t, but that changed quickly. Suguru was kind enough (or cruel enough) to move slowly, easing the head of his cock past your lips first, letting it sit on your tongue as you fought not to cringe against the bitter, musky taste. Satoru pulled his hand away as Suguru eased another inch into your mouth, then another, then another – letting out a rough groan as his tip hit the back of your throat with more than half of his shaft to spare. You fought the urge to gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d given him head before, but it’d always been on your own terms, with Satoru waiting on the sidelines to bail you out if you ever got tired of choking on your boyfriend’s stupidly big dick. Now, though, Satoru didn’t seem to want to do anything but breathe down your neck, and you doubted your consent was a factor either of them would stop to genuinely consider.

Ultimately, your enthusiastic cooperation proved unnecessary. Suguru kept his fingers tangled in your hair, his blunt nails biting into your scalp as he manually bobbed your head – slowly, at first, then faster, with enough force to leave your jaw sore after less than a minute of being split around his shaft. Saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chest and onto your nightgown, but if Suguru cared, the feeling of your throat convulsing around him was enough to warrant a momentary lapse in decency. “T-that’s it,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. “Good, good girl. See what happens when you’re well-behaved?”

You felt Satoru shift behind you, his hands skirting over your back as he skillfully undid the buttons Suguru had spent so much time fussing over. A pair of large, velvet-soft hands grazed over your waist, then your sides, before reaching your chest and cupping your tits – kneading the soft tissue like a pair twin stress balls fitted perfectly to his palms. “She looks better already,” Satoru laughed, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “You’re gonna thank mommy for being so nice with you, right?”

Suguru snorted. “I’m mommy?”

“Mhm. ‘cause you’re so pretty and you take such good care of our little princess.” He nudged you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Go on, baby. Tell mommy how much you love him.”

You choked something out – more of a desperate whine than anything coherent – and Suguru threw his head back, cursing silently as his pace turned from sloppy to erratic. His cock battered into your throat with every thrust, your air supply constantly somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. It was only as the outskirts of your vision started to fade that Suguru hissed, gritting his teeth as he dragged your head into his hips, your nose pressing into his pubic bone and his cock so far down your throat, you could practically feel him in your lungs. A sudden twitch, a groaned exhale was all the warning you received before you felt something hot and thick fill your throat, your mouth, your diaphragm. He held you there for a moment, then another – savoring the sound of your fractured whimpering all-but drowned by his cum – before letting you go, watching through half-lidded eyes as you collapsed into Satoru’s waiting arms.

You lurched forward, moving to spit, to get him out of you, but Satoru’s hand was already covering your mouth – determined to keep Suguru’s taste on your tongue for that much longer. At the same time, you felt something small and soft being dropped onto your thighs, heard the shutter of a camera above you. Rather than trying to look at Suguru, you let your gaze fall to your lap.

Or, rather, the perfectly white, perfectly posed rabbit now resting peacefully on top of it.

~

It was two months before the chain came off – meaning, before Suguru and Satoru were happy enough with either your behavior or their security to let you roam freely (with heavy supervision, of course). It went without saying that you were ecstatic. You could barely sit still while Satoru undid the shackle, barely listen while Suguru told you their plans for the night – dinner and a movie marathon, not totally dissimilar to something you might’ve suggested when you still had the authority to be making suggestions. It didn’t matter. You were just happy to be doing anything, especially if it meant you got to leave that godawful room.

You only realized that you’d still been picturing your old apartment when you stepped out of the bedroom an abruptly realized you weren’t in an apartment at all, but a house – two stories with every window looking out onto a fence so tall, you would’ve had to be on the roof to see over it. It was decorated sparely, with what few shelves there were littered sporadically with Satoru’s gundams or parts of Suguru’s ongoing trinket collection, but minimalism was an appreciated change compared to the ongoing sensory nightmare that was your bedroom. You gawked at every empty surface, every plain white wall as Suguru herded you to the kitchen, where Satoru was busy plating what looked like udon. The seating arrangement was strange – there were only two chairs at the dining room table, but you were too caught up in your own euphoria to care. You grabbed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, fell into a seat, and—

“Sweetheart,” Suguru started, his voice somewhat strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh,” You glanced at your bowl, abruptly confused. “Eating? I think?”

“Almost, but not quite. I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing.” He rounded the table, coming to stand at your side. You tried to get up, but it only took a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Even something as simple as using utensils can be dangerous for little ones like you. Me and Satoru will be feeding you by hand, from now on.”

It was strange, really – how many little deaths you could die before going numb to it. It was terrible, how many times you could hear one of the two men you loved most in the world say you were more incapable than a literal child before it all just turned to static.

You wondered, distantly, if Suguru was offended that you didn’t engage with this part of him more willingly. It was clearly sincere, if fucked-up, and if he’d ever bothered to ask, you probably would’ve agreed to try it – not that you would’ve had much of a choice, in the later stages of your relationship. It was different for Satoru – as long as you were trapped and at his mercy, he’d be happy. Suguru wanted something… different, more complex. Suguru wanted reliance.

Suguru wanted to break you down.

“If you say so.” You heard your voice, felt your mouth moving, but you weren’t talking. “Can I… um, would it be alright if I asked for something, first?”

Suguru’s satisfaction was almost palpable. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“I think I’d like to take my medicine, now.”

Suguru answered quickly, but not quickly enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Satoru reach for the cabinet above the stove before thinking better of it and glancing over his shoulder, as if to make sure you hadn’t seen. It took everything you had not to react as Suguru responded.

“Of course,” he said with an airy laugh, nearly purring. “Not right now, though – we’ll wait until it’s closer to your bedtime. Try to focus on dinner.”

You only nodded eagerly, smiling sincerely for the first time in weeks.

~

It took two weeks for you to get your hands on their pills (you stole two, just in case), and three more to convince Satoru that a field trip – his description, not yours – wouldn’t be that big of a deal, not if you kept it short, not if Suguru didn’t find out. He’d always been ecstatic when you visited him at his university (a historic private school, so unlike the local community college you’d gone to, the one you missed with all your heart), and besides, what was worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, and the students were still on winter break. You could even wear your old clothes, just to make sure you didn’t attract attention. It’d just be the two of you, all alone in his office, with hours and hours and hours to kill. Really, how could it possibly go wrong?

You waited until you reached his office to slip both stolen pills into his coffee. He’d barely gotten his belt off before the effects kicked-in, but still, you waited until he’d been reduced to a drooling, half-conscious shell of himself before making your escape.

You’d been right – his campus really was deserted. You hurried past dark lecture halls and empty offices as you rushed in a direction you hoped would lead to an exit, glanced out of windows that looked onto lifeless courtyards as you thought about what to do next. The police weren’t an option. They hadn’t hurt you, not in any way you’d be able to prove, and even if you had the evidence, Satoru was rich, and to the law, there was no greater proof of innocence. You tried to think of phone numbers, of addresses, but you hadn’t had many friends before meeting Satoru and Suguru, and they’d made sure to whittle that unimpressive number down to zero over the course of your relationship. You cursed under your breath, even though there was no one around to hear you. You should’ve taken Satoru’s wallet after he passed out. You wouldn’t have been able to use to his cards, but it would’ve been nice to—

You rounded the next corner, then froze.

At the end of the hall, like an omen of death granted human form, stood Suguru.

You took a faltering step backward before breaking into a full, heart-pounding sprint. Suguru wasn’t close, but he was close enough. He let you get all of three steps away before fist curled around the back of your shirt, his muscular arm wrapping around your midriff, trapping you with as much effort as it might’ve taken to lift a kitten by its scruff. Still, you thrashed, struggled, fought – throwing your elbow into his stomach and kicking at his legs as he lifted you off the ground entirely, pinning your body against his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You were told he’d be at his shrine today, all day, with a thousand little things to do that’d keep him distracted until you got away. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to be—

“Calm down,” he muttered, his voice distant, cold. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Immediately, you went still. It was a vague threat, but it was a threat, and Suguru had never threatened you before.

Or, you didn’t think he had, at least. It was getting so hard to tell, after everything they’d done to you.

He didn’t sigh, or shake his head, or speak again. He only lowered you back to the ground and, after taking your hand in his, led you back down the vacant halls, past the abandoned classrooms, and to the door of Satoru’s office. He paused outside of it, his dark eyes falling to you in a way you could only describe as void-like. You had to wonder why you every thought you knew him.

“You were trying to…?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Reluctantly, you nodded, and Suguru turned away from you, shouldering open the office door.

Satoru was on his feet, but only barely. He was supporting himself on the corner of his desk, his pale face flushed red and his clothes noticeably disheveled. At some point, he’d lost his sunglasses, and you watched his sky-blue eyes go wide as Suguru crossed the threshold with you following shortly after. “Suguru, princess.” His voice was weak, breathy. You could only imagine how you’d sounded strung out on their sedatives. “How far did she get? She caught me off-guard, but—”

Suguru let go of your hand and closed the distance between him and Satoru. You heard the sharp crack before you could process what he was doing – saw Suguru raise his hand and Satoru’s head snap to the side without ever linking either action with the other. Even Satoru, always so resilient, took a moment to recover, his expression going blank as Suguru spoke, unphased. “If you ever leave me, I’ll break your legs so badly, you’ll never be able to walk again.” You didn’t have to wonder if he meant it. It didn’t matter if he meant it. The words alone left shaking too violently to move, let alone run. “And if you do anything to help her, I’ll gut you alive.”

Your eyes darted to Satoru, to his visibly swollen cheek. Somehow, he seemed even more flushed than he had seconds before, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he looked—

Oh, god.

You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance.

Of course, things only got worse when he opened his mouth. “Yes, mommy.”

“Get on the couch and lay down. It’s not like you’re good for anything else, right now.”

“I will, mommy.”

He obeyed mechanically, collapsing onto the well-worn sofa that sat against the far wall. You’d always thought it was too big, too bulky, especially in such a confined state. When you asked Satoru why he bothered to keep it, he’d just laughed and claimed he liked to keep his guests comfortable.

You doubted you counted as a guest. Then again, you doubted you were going to be very comfortable, either.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder, his lifeless stare boring into you. “Straddle his waist and help him undress. You did this, so you’ll be taking responsibility.”

Fear was a surprisingly strong motivation. You were scrambling onto the sofa before you had a chance to think, planting a knee on either side of Satoru’s hips as you fumbled clumsily with his shirt. For his part, Satoru was either incapable of or unwilling to help you – a distant, careless smile soon painting itself across his lips as he watched you struggle. When he did move, it was only to bring a hand to the back of your neck and drag you downward, his mouth crashing into yours. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy attempt to choke you to death with his tongue, but Satoru still groaned as you separated, his face immediately finding the crook of your neck. “So glad Suguru got you back,” he slurred, nuzzling into you. “He’s so hot when he gets all jealous like that.”

You were only half-listening to him, already distracted. Suguru had moved, too – kneeling behind you, his hands finding your hips and dragging them into the air. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties to the side, and just as abruptly, three of Suguru’s broad fingers were pushed into your cunt. You whimpered at the sudden, borderline painful intrusion, but Suguru only scoffed. “Be grateful you’re getting this much prep. It’s already more than you deserve.”

That didn’t do anything to stop the pain, though. Suguru was merciless – sheathing his digits to the knuckle, spreading his fingers apart, making it clear that he wasn’t doing this for your pleasure, even if he didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, either. You tried to shut your eyes, to grit your teeth and bare it, but any attempts to ignore reality were swiftly cut short by the feeling of his unoccupied hand coming down on your ass with enough force to bruise. “Did I say could stop?”

He hadn’t, but Satoru was making things difficult – keeping you slotted against him as closely as you could. As Suguru’s fingers fucked into you, you managed to get an arm between your body and his, for the waistband of his jeans down just far enough to earn a satisfied grunt from Suguru. Strangely, the worst part wasn’t the strain in your cunt, or the heat of Satoru’s cock pressing into your stomach, but the feeling of Satoru’s wide, toothy grin pressing into the side of your neck – tangible proof of his euphoria. It was awful – just how clearly he was enjoying this. At least Suguru had the decency to go blank.

It was too much too suddenly with too little build up, but Suguru knew your body and, more damningly, your body knew him. Barely a minute had passed before you felt arousal stain the inside of your thighs, before the sound of his digits plunging into you took on a distinctive wet quality. You let your head lull into Satoru’s chest and dig your teeth into your tongue, willing away any embarrassing noises that would’ve added to your ongoing degradation, but if Suguru cared, you couldn’t tell. He soldiered on with that brutal, unyielding pace, ignoring your clit entirely in favor of beating his frustration directly into your pussy. Really, it was a miracle you felt anything at all. Well, anything beyond pain, anyway.

It was only when you tensed against Satoru, when you finally let a single, fractured moan slip past your haphazardly sealed lips, that Suguru abruptly stopped; pulling out of you before you could fully process what was happening. You glanced over your shoulder, misplaced disappointment softening the harsher edges of your fear, but Satoru was quick to catch your chin – redirecting your attention back to him. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, rocking his hips into yours. “You’ve gotta stay on my good side too, remembered?”

As if you could forget.

Behind you, Suguru glowered. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” To Satoru, and then, to you, “Do it. Make sure he doesn’t cum.”

Your instructions were clear, albeit unappreciated. Satoru let you straighten your back, his hands kneading at your thighs as you picked yourself up and, as mindlessly as you could, aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You wanted to move slowly, to give your abused cunt time to adjust, but Suguru proved uncharacteristically impatient; taking you by the shoulders and spearing you on Satoru’s cock before you could so much as consider protesting. You went stiff, your brain too busy trying to make sense of your sudden fullness to order your body to move, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind – only tightening his vice-like hold and bucking into you from below, his cock battering into the deepest, most vulnerable part of you without the slightest trace of concern.

You were too startled to make noise, but Satoru had always been so much louder than you, so much more eager to pour out his every little thought. “She’s so fucking tight,” he breathed, grinding into you. “Been ages since I had her on top of me, too. Almost forgot how—” A slight gasp, a pitchy whine, “Almost forgot how pretty she could get, sitting on her daddy’s lap.”

Your sight blurred, and a few seconds later, you realized you were crying. Suguru didn’t respond, but you heard fabric shifting, felt one of his hands disappear for a moment before returning, now on the center of your back. With more force than he really had to use, he shoved you back down, pressing you flat against Satoru as he maneuvered himself behind you. Space was limited, availability even more so, but still, it wasn’t until you felt the head of his cock press against your stuffed slit that you realized what he was doing.

“N—no,” It was almost impressive, just how quickly you abandoned what was left of your pride. You tried to pick yourself back up, but Satoru was a snare – an arm looking around your waist while the other found your hip, holding you still for Suguru. “Please, you can’t, it’s not—It won’t fit, and—”

And, just like that, Suguru was pushing into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. As his hips pressed into your ass and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible groan, you could only wonder if either of them had ever really loved you.

There was a lapse – more for their sakes than yours – before Satoru started moving, already acclimated. “Such a good girl,” he drawled, grinding into you, seemingly unhappy unless he and Suguru were both fully planted inside of you. “See? It’s not that bad, right? I knew you’d be able to handle it.”

But you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, hitched sobbed and agonized moans trickling past your lips every time either of them moved. Suguru sucked in a shuddering breath, then planted a hand on the small of your back, thrusting into you sharp and deep – his movements a stark contrast to Satoru’s. The stretch along was unbearable. Even on your best days, you’d struggle to take either of them to the hilt. Taking both seemed fantastical, implausible, fatal. It was genuinely surprising that you weren’t already dead.

It was doubly as surprising, then, that it felt so good.

 Most of it had to be your own fried nerves trying to make the best of it, to get you through this as quickly and as painlessly as was possible. You weren’t in control of anything; not your hands as they clawed blindly at Satoru’s chest, not your hips as you bucked pitifully into Suguru, and certainly not your cunt as it clenched even tighter around the cocks splitting it open. Satoru let out an airy laugh, two fingers dropping to your neglected clit. “It’s okay, baby, you deserve to feel good too,” he gushed, pushing lazy circles into the small bundle of nerves, drawing out yet another miserable sob. “Told you she’d like it.”

“She’s not supposed to,” Suguru grunted, digging his nails into your waist. Still, that didn’t stop him from burying himself inside of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. You couldn’t be sure what it was – the fullness, maybe, or the overstimulation, or your own desperation to just get this over with – but your vision burnt white, your body convulsing against Satoru’s as you came undone around them. Satoru followed shortly after, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck as he pumped something searing and vileinto you. Suguru let out a rough, throaty growl – throwing his head forward and hilting himself entirely inside of you. You shook your head, pleading silently, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to notice, and even if he had, you doubted it would’ve been enough to stop him from cumming inside of you, from ensuring that no part of you was left uncorrupted.

There was a short period of numb, thoughtless stillness – filled only by Suguru’s panting, Satoru’s mindless cooing, and the absence of your voice. Suguru shifted, and for a second, you panicked, convincing yourself that there was more, that he wasn’t done – but he only pulled out of you, fixing his clothes with his eyes focused pointedly on the point where your cunt was still stretched around Satoru’s cock, where it leaked and drooled onto Satoru’s lap. You weren’t so resilient, letting your eyes fall shut and slumping against Satoru.

For the very first time, as you lost consciousness, you felt the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic spec of relief that, at the very least, you wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning yourself up.

~

“Stay in the car. I’ll call when it’s time for you to bring her in.”

The ride had been near-silent, only occasionally interrupted by an odd comment from Satoru or a hissed warning from Suguru. Suguru drove while Satoru held onto you in the back seat, keeping you gathered in his arms, his jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. Satoru only nodded as Suguru let himself out, making no move to follow. Whatever this was, they must’ve already talked about it while you were blacked out.

You waited until Suguru had disappeared into the house before speaking, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “He hit you.”

“Mhm. You did a number on my chest, too.”

“But—” You cut yourself off and started over. “He hit you.”

He flashed you a smile, as careless as it was dismissive. “What do you want me to say, baby?”

“That this insane. That he’s insane.” You crossed your arms over your chest, curling into yourself. “You can leave, Satoru – we can leave together. All we’d have to do is—” The air hitched in your throat, but you managed to snarl something out. “—fucking go.”

“And why would we want to do that, exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Satoru laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Because,” he said, nuzzling into your hair, “Suguru loves me. He loves us. You should know that – after today, especially.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

This time, you had a feeling that he’d given you the only answer he was going to.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Satoru kept himself occupied, pushing slow, lingering kisses into your cheek and neck, while you stared mindlessly out of the window, trying to savor the last minutes of sunlight that you’d have for a long, long time. Eventually, Satoru’s phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother to check it before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you inside. You expected him to take you back to your bedroom, with its stuffed-animal lined shelves and bright pink walls and polished silver chain, but instead, he turned down a hallway you’d never seen before, into a bedroom that was distinctly not yours. Suguru was waiting for him, standing in the doorway to a dark closet. The edges of his lips quirked upward when he saw you. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing you’d gotten to one from him all day.

Satoru placed you next to him, and your attention turned back to the closet. Any clothes or shoes had been cleared out to make room for a single, silver dog crate, nearly big enough to stretch from one wall to the other. The bottom was padded with a light pink blanket that you recognized from your bed, and a white rabbit plush had been left in the far right corner. A deadbolt hung, undone, from the open kennel door.

You might’ve broken down entirely, if you hadn’t been so devastated.

Suguru’s voice was deafening and serene, as beautifully composed as it was unspeakably terrible. “Get in, love.”

“I’m not—”

“You should probably listen to him,” Satoru cut in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This is just about the nicest thing he suggested.”

You swallowed, your heart failing to beat. Out of some ancient, primal, preservatory instinct, your body moved towards the crate, falling to its knees and bowing its head to fit inside. The kennel was big for a dog, not for a person. You had just enough room to huddle against the farthest wall as Suguru slid the door into place, the deadbolt locking with a sadistic click.

“It really is a shame,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I was hoping you could be our darling princess for a little longer, but I’m sure you’ll make a much better bitch.”

Satoru helped him back to his feet, and together, they retreated back to the closet door, Satoru casting one more lovesick smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them, leaving you in total, endless, solitary darkness.

Your wretched sobs echoed off the barren walls as you finally started to cry.

[jayblackpanther]

Threads of Memory

Bob Reynolds x Female Reader

The facility was quiet.

Not sterile like the hospitals you’d known—this one was… soft around the edges. Calming, almost. It was government-funded, sure, but clearly designed by someone who wanted him to feel safe. The hallways were wide and open, the windows tall. Light filtered in through gauzy curtains. But it still couldn’t reach the corners of his room.

That’s where you found Bob most days—sitting in the corner, arms resting on his knees, staring out at the trees like he was waiting for them to disappear.

You’d come every day. They’d called you when he first woke up, unsure if he’d even recognize you.

And at first, he didn’t.

—

He called you “Miss” the first three times you visited.

Not cruel. Not cold. Just careful.

“Miss,” he’d say, that deep, uncertain voice cutting the silence as you placed tea on the little table beside him. “You don’t have to stay.”

You’d smile gently, taking the chair across from him. “I know. I want to.”

His eyes—bright gold beneath the shadows—would flick to you. Study you like a puzzle. You knew he was searching for something. A memory, a flicker, a spark of recognition.

It wouldn’t come.

But you stayed anyway.

—

It was the fifth visit when something changed.

You brought old photos. Printed ones. Glossy edges, a little worn. From before the fall—before the mission where things went wrong, where the Void broke free and Bob was lost inside himself.

You laid them out gently. A small table. Two cups. A photo of the two of you on a rooftop, your head resting on his shoulder, wind in your hair. A rare moment when he’d let you be that close without panic.

He stared at it a long time.

“Is that…?”

“You and me,” you said softly. “We were close. We are close.”

He swallowed. His hands hovered above the photo like he was afraid to touch it.

“I look… happy.”

“You were,” you said, voice thick. “Not always. But sometimes.”

His eyes flicked up. “Did I ever hurt you?”

The question hit like a weight.

“No,” you answered immediately. Then, quieter: “You were scared. But you never hurt me.”

Bob looked down. “I don’t remember being him. The man in that photo. I want to. But it’s just… blank. Like someone else lived it.”

“You did,” you whispered. “You’re still him. He’s still you.”

—

The next week, he sat next to you.

Not across the room. Not in the corner. Next to you, on the couch, barely an inch of space between.

“I keep seeing flashes,” he said. “Tiny things. You—laughing at something I said. A blanket. Music. Your hand in mine.”

You looked at him slowly, heart pounding. “You remember that?”

“I don’t know if it’s memory or imagination,” he said with a soft, strained laugh. “But it’s warm. It feels real.”

You reached out, hesitating.

“May I?”

He nodded.

Your fingers curled into his. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Feels right,” he murmured.

—

He asked you about the past.

Not the missions. Not the combat. The little things.

“Did I cook?”

“Once. You burned the rice.”

“Did I ever sing?”

“Only in the shower. Terribly.”

“Did I make you laugh?”

“Every damn day.”

He smiled.

And it wasn’t the strained, unsure smile of someone trying to be polite.

It was the first real one.

—

One afternoon, you brought the old hoodie.

His.

Faded black. Smelled like cedar and safety. You’d kept it after everything, not sure why. You didn’t think he’d ever want it back.

He took it in his hands like it was fragile.

“I wore this a lot, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes,” you said quietly, “you’d leave it on the couch just so I’d pick it up and wear it.”

Bob huffed. “That sounds manipulative.”

“It worked.”

His eyes flicked up to yours. That smile again. Softer this time.

He pulled it on slowly, like muscle memory.

When he looked in the mirror across the room, he paused.

“I know that face,” he said.

You stepped beside him, wrapping your arm around his.

“You’re not gone, Bob,” you whispered. “You’re finding your way back.”

—

That night, he fell asleep with his head in your lap.

You didn’t dare move. You just ran your fingers through his hair, watching his breathing slow. His hand was wrapped around yours, like even unconscious, he didn’t want to let go.

And for the first time in months, maybe years, Bob Reynolds slept without waking up screaming.

[fangswbenefits]

Questions

Summary: Your curiosity drives you to ask Astarion a very unexpected question, and he's more than happy to give you a proper reply.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Innocent/inexperienced Tav being a tease. Precum. Praise kink. Oral sex (mild). Edging. Body worship. PiV. Creampie.

Word count: 2.7k

“What does an erection feel like?”

Astarion nearly dropped the dagger in his hand.

He was effectively caught off guard in a way that made him blink.

Twice.

“What?”

“What does an erection feel like?” 

You were smiling so sweetly and innocently that to an outsider, it might seem you had just asked him to fetch you a cup of tea.

He was officially stunned into silence and not many could take pride in such an accomplishment.

But you.

You had a way with words that could have his head throb from annoyance as well as his cock throbbing from lust.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you took sure steps in his direction with a sweet smile dancing on your lips.

He glanced around the forest clearing, quite taken aback by your sudden bluntness in such matters.

“And what prompted such a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

With your smile spreading wider, you came to a full stop in front of him just as he sheathed the dagger at his hip once again.

“I was just wondering,” you said with a mere shrug. “I mean, I already know how it feels when… when we…”

“Fuck?”

Astarion would seldom be this forthcoming with you, but he truly enjoyed how you’d fluster so easily for him and from his choice of words.

You nodded.

Gods. 

He would never tire of how adorably oblivious you could be to your effect on him. 

“So you want to know how it feels for me, is that it?”

You nodded again, rooted in place as he began circling you like a predator studying its prey. Such an intrusive yet unbelievably arousing question had him almost salivating for the tease he was about to shower you with.

“As selfless as I am, darling,” he began with a tut, inching closer and closer to you. “I would like to know what I’d get in exchange for this delicate information.” 

He saw you swallow, still holding a sweet smile. “What would you want?”

Feigning pensiveness, he cleared a few specs of pollen that had gathered on your shoulders. “A kiss.”

“Where?”

Astarion would love to immediately sink you on your knees and have you plant the softest kisses along his cock.

But he would have to start slow with you, so he could revel in your inexperience.

He tapped his cheek twice with his finger, now close enough that he could feel your warmth. 

“So… a kiss for each piece of information?”

He grinned approvingly. “Lovely idea, darling.”

You closed the gap and moved to press your heated lips on his cheek.

It came as no surprise that he began to feel the faintest stir down below, letting him know just how weak he was to your sweet advances. But what truly made his cock harden even more was knowing you weren’t actively trying to seduce him.

You were too innocent to think a simple kiss to his cheek could turn him on.

So he’d let you know.

He’d show you.

“It feels very, very distracting,” he started, already mourning your warmth when you pulled away. “Especially when it’s due to sexual arousal.”

You blinked, waiting for him to go on, but what you didn’t know was that Astarion wasn’t one for charity.

Even when it came to you.

“Well? How about another kiss?”

You flinched. “Oh! Right… where?”

Oh, you were making this so easy for him. 

He would be fully hard in no time if he played his cards right with you.

So, he tapped his lips.

And you didn’t even hesitate to press a fleeting kiss on them.

But before you could move away, he gripped your wrist. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted, holding you in place. “A proper kiss.”

“That was a proper kiss.”

“Not if I can’t even taste you,” he said with a dramatic pout.

You nodded, promptly taking his lips in yours in a rather chaste kiss, and then Astarion went in for the kill.

He could always taste the inexperience and hesitancy whenever you gave himself to him like this. Masterfully, he parted your lips with his skilled tongue, and nearly groaned from how receptive you were to him.

The familiar lull of a throb around his cock was almost too distracting and he had to fight back the urge to immediately pull your body fully against his, so he could grind on you.

Surprisingly enough, and before he could tease your tongue with his fangs, you broke the kiss.

“Astarion, you’re not playing fair,” you said with that adorable pout that always made him want to have you on all fours for him.

But besides that, Astarion was not one to play fair, yet he’d make a single exception just for you and this specific moment.

He was too eager to entertain your unexpected curiosity.

He smiled innocently. “I do apologise for getting ahead of myself. It’s hard not to with you…”

And he truly meant it.

You were an exercise on self-restraint and he wished he could lavish you in bliss whenever possible. But he also knew you needed your space and to also be the one to take initiative, so he’d often patiently wait for your move.

And what a move this was.

His trousers felt too tight already, and he had to adjust his growing erection with one hand, which evidently caught your eye.

“Are you hard already?”

Already?

As if it was a hard feat with you being such a tease…

“I will show you if you give me your hand,” he proposed deviously. “It would be easier for me… and you.”

You gave him an adorable wicked smile as you placed your hand in his. “Surely you must remember how it feels without having to have one.”

What a tease.

Your words sent a couple of jolts of pleasure straight to his swelling cock, intensifying the pulsing.

He guided your hand to his crotch, and couldn’t hold back the grunt that rumbled in his chest as you gave him a tentative squeeze.

You delectable little minx…

“How does it feel?” you said, smile never wavering.

“Extremely distracting… and pleasurable.”

Another squeeze.

“What else?”

He would come undone in his trousers if you kept pushing him like this. 

“I feel the urge to be inside you.”

Your eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, feeling his cock twitch under your palm. “No. But I would very much like to press you up against the nearest tree and slide it inside you.”

Maybe he wasn’t as patient as he thought he was.

Maybe he didn’t really have time to play his cards right.

He was so incredibly turned he thought he could easily die again just from the tease and frustration.

Unexpectedly, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his other cheek.

“Can I… touch it? Will you tell me how my hand feels?”

Astarion nearly froze at your seemingly innocent suggestions.

Perhaps his love for debauchery was contagious and you were catching up and learning from him. Not that he was complaining, but his endurance might be at stake should you continue to further edge him with your sweetened words.

“You can do whatever you want,” he simply said, driven by the lust and agonising need for release.

And then you did something that nearly made his eyes bulge out.

You kneeled in front of him.

Gods above…

Eyes fixed on his as you struggled to undo the lacing at the front of his trousers.

The first beads of precum had already begun to drip from his tip.

He hurriedly helped you, fingers quickly loosening the fabric and creating an opening for you to take the next step.

And you did.

With another sweetly innocent smile, you pulled his trousers down just enough for his cock to bounce free, earning a sigh of relief from him.

Your fingers wrapped around him and his hips instinctively bucked from the sudden squeeze.

“How does it feel?”

Astarion wasn’t a man to be at a loss for words, but he couldn’t bring himself to string a couple together to answer you.

A single string of precum dangled from the tip and he now knew he needed to feel more of you or he might lose it.

“A kiss…” he said almost pleadingly, placing one hand in the back of your head.

You offered him a pout. “Where?”

He closed his eyes and let out a growl, rolling his hips as he fucked your hand.

“Gods…” he moaned aloud when your warm lips touched the swollen tip of his cock.

This had his eyelids snap open at once just so he could marvel at the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin.

But the near blinding pleasurable sensation came to a halt as you pulled back, darting your tongue along your lower lip.

“Tell me…”

Then you were on your feet again, but never letting go of his cock.

“I really want to ravish you…” he said impatiently, slowly taking a few steps into you, so you would walk back.

“Why?”

He wanted to fuck you.

No.

He needed to fuck you.

“Why what?” he growled, removing your hand from his throbbing cock, which earned a whine from you. “You keep touching me like that and teasing me with your words, and I will not last.”

In fact, he had lasted longer than he had expected, given the torture you were submitting him to.

“Was that your plan all along, my sweet?”

You shook your head, nearly tripping on a single twisting root that emerged from the ground.”No! I - I was simply… curious…”

Oh, he was going to adore making you sing for him. 

“Were you really?” 

Your back was soon pressed against a large oak tree and the most devious of smiles crept into his face.

He had you just where he wanted.

“You wanted to know how an erection feels, did you not?”

You bit your lip with a curt nod.

“I can tell you how it feels inside you,” he taunted, lips close to your ear and cock pressed against your shirt, staining it with precum. “Would you like that, darling?”

Your reply came in the form of a gasp that he quickly swallowed with a kiss, gripping your chin in between his fingers and applying enough pressure so that you’d part your lips for him.

You quickly caved in with a strained moan and his tongue slipped inside so he could taste your innocence.

Dexterity wasn’t a skill for everyone, but it was one he had harnessed and honed over centuries, and it came in handy in a vast array of situations.

Being able to undo your trousers with the fingers of a single hand was the one he was most proud of.

He felt you melt into him as he tugged at the tight fabric before yanking them down, and all of this without breaking the hungry and urgent kiss.

With a single finger he realised just how soaked you were for him, which was to be expected. Your body reacted to him in a way that further reinforced his devotion to you. It stroked his ego in the right places and tugged at the frayed ends of his sanity.

This time, he was the one pulling away, so he could drop on both knees as if readying himself for a prayer.

Your eyes were half-closed and heavy with the overwhelming weight of desire when you stared down at him.

With two fingers, he parted your folds and saw the delicious throbbing swell inviting him in.

And who was he to deny such invitation?

He leaned in and pressed a soft and lingering kiss on it, proud to earn the most adorable whimper from you as your hands flew to tangle in his curls.

“Astarion…”

He would die a thousand times over just for your praise and for your pleasure.

Nothing made him harder than your sweet cries as his name rolled out of your tongue.

He pressed two more kisses before raising to his full height again and chuckling in your ear. “You’re ready for me.”

You nodded eagerly.

Your despair was so adorable he could come just from how you were desperately grinding against him, the lower half of your shirt drenched in his precum.

With one hand, he pulled your leg up and apart just enough to grant him full access to you.

With the other, he angled himself at your entrance and was met with barely any resistance as he slowly pushed inside, grunting as you immediately began to tighten around him.

“Do try to relax, darling… allow me to at least bury myself fully inside.”

But he knew all too well it was merely wishful thinking.

He was getting undeniably closer to the point of no return.

You did try to comply with his request, lopping your arms around his next for added support as he pushed further inside. However, he was aware you couldn’t fully help but to instinctively clamp around his cock, squeezing his bulging veins and welcoming his precum.

His lips were on your ear once again. “You feel divine and I don’t think you need my words to know that.”

The first thrust dragged a soft mewl out of you and he held your leg in place, knowing all too well your knees would soon buck under you from the sensation of being fucked so deligently.

At this point, he was edging himself once he managed to set a steady pace, wet and sloppy sounds filling his ears.

You always took him so well.

He glanced down just so he could witness your wetness coating his cock each time he pulled back, only to ram it back inside with a desperate grunt.

“So… i-it feels really good, right?”

His eyes met yours and his rhythm faltered momentarily as he was surprised you were still trying hellsbent on getting your question answered.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he growled, his balls beginning to tighten as he reached the edge. “It feels ridiculously good.”

You immediately clenched.

Of course you did. 

You adored being praised and being shown you were taking him so well.

Not wanting to reach his peak himself as your contractions would aid him reaching his, he pressed the pad of his thumb against your pulsing swell and rubbed measured circles around it.

“Let go, darling,” he urged, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his focus. “I’ll catch you.”

He quickened his pace, entering the final stages of his insenset climb to the height of his bliss. His hips snapped more vigorously, the lewd sounds that he drew from you further testing his sanity.

You came first as intended, squeezing so hard around him he could no longer keep his eyes open and having to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

His name spilled from your lips like a broken prayer that any self-deserving God above would be a fool to ignore.

Someone this divine deserved to be heard throughout Faerûn and Astarion took immense pleasure knowing he was the source of your immeasurable pleasure.

As your contractions caused you to squeeze tightly around him, he felt himself let go and immediately felt his own bliss wash down over him, his lower abdomen rhythmically contracting and his balls rise up as the first ropes of cum began to shoot inside you.

He let out a guttural groan as he stilled as deep as he could, eager to feel his cum begin to slide out.

He would always come too hard and too much for you.

The amount of cum always surprised him, but he had grown to accept he was meant to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Surely enough and your contractions began to subside, he felt a few droplets drip out.

He pulled his head back so he could see just how flustered and out of breath you were because of him.

“Did that answer your question?”

Your laboured breaths were too endearing and he smiled proudly.

You swallowed hard. “You cheated…”

He gasped dramatically, still buried inside you. “I did no such thing. I simply found a better way to satisfy your mind, darling.”

Masterlist

[lexithwrites]

first time. (wolfstar)

@wolfstarkinktober2024 | 1792 words | smut | trans/nonbinary sirius | virgin remus

Remus had never done this before, and it was becoming very obvious.

He had fumbled with his buttons when Sirius asked him to take off his shirt, shaking fingers finding each one and trying to pull them apart. He swallowed, and then felt softer hands touch his, covering them and taking over his movements.

"Let me, darling." Sirius said softly, light eyes meeting Remus'. They comforted him immediately and he sighed, nodding in agreement.

Sirius knew what they were doing, just let them take the lead. Remus couldn't take his eyes away from Sirius' face, concentrating on the buttons, the small scrunch of their brow when one button didn't cooperate, the way their hair cascaded over their shoulders, then his eyes went lower and he caught the sight of the garter belt and his mouth went dry. He felt his breath hitch. When Sirius had first walked in wearing it he almost let his knees buckle underneath him. They looked breath taking, beyond anything he'd ever seen before, and Sirius wanted him. Why, he didn't know, but he would be stupid to question it right now. So instead he let Sirius undress him in silence, just allowing himself soft touches of their hip. It made them shiver and Remus smiled.

"I'm sorry about the scars." He whispered and Sirius shook their head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're beautiful. Always have been." And they pushed the shirt from Remus' shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and expose his chest and arms. Remus wanted to cover up, cover up the frail, awkward body in front of Sirius' perfect one, but he held back. He didn't want to ruin the moment, not tonight. His insecurities could be ignored for tonight. He wanted this, he wanted it so bad it ached in the best way, and Sirius clearly did as well. Sirius smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Jeans as well?" Remus took a moment of pause then nodded, watching Sirius reach down for his belt buckle.

Remus wondered if Sirius was just as desperate for this as he was, if they were just as horny and if their brain was fogged over with desire. He wanted to fall to his knees and bury his face between their thighs for hours, but he'd never done that before. He wouldn't be any good at it. Not yet, anyway. He wanted Sirius to tell him what they wanted, how they wanted it. He'd listen to every single instruction and follow it perfectly if it meant Sirius felt good and enjoyed themselves. That's all Remus wanted. He could care less if he came, even if his cock thought differently. They'd get to him eventually. Sirius, with Remus' jeans now undone, chuckled a little.

"You've been hiding this from me?" Their hand reached into the jeans and Remus' choked out an embarrassing noise as he was cupped through his boxers. He felt his mouth go dry as he tried to form words.

"I...I didn't think it was that impressive." Sirius shrugged.

"I like what I see so far. And what I feel. Come, love." Sirius took Remus' hand this time, and slowly led him to the bed. "I know you're nervous, but it's just me." Sirius told him in a soothing tone. Remus smiled.

"Sorry, I wish I wasn't nervous right now."

"I was my first time, it's okay. I'll make it feel so good, love." And Remus knew they were telling the truth. Sirius made everything better.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at them with wide eyes as Sirius planted themselves in his lap, wrapping their arms around his neck and nuzzling their noses together. "You're safe with me, Moony. Always. Just try and relax."

They were kissing then, soft and slow and deep, just like Remus wanted. He had been told he was an amazing kisser by Sirius, but he feared that was a biased opinion. Either way, Sirius was sighing and rocking down against his bulge as they kissed and that's what mattered right now. Remus felt the wet heat between their legs and he moaned, hands going to their waist and keeping Sirius right where they were. Sirius moaned into his mouth and played with the soft curls at the nape of Remus' neck to make him tilt his head back. Sirius was on his neck in an instant, and Remus felt his hips buck up before he could stop them, and Sirius moaned.

"You love that, don't you?" Sirius fingers curled into Remus' hair as they sucked at the edge of his jaw, and Remus let out a strangled whine. "Good boy, just relax for me. Let yourself feel good with me." Sirius hips were still moving and Remus began to move his along with them. He wanted that friction to stay, that tug in his belly getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, he was lying back on the bed with Sirius looming over him, and he stroked their cheek. Sirius, surprisingly, went red at that.

"You're so beautiful." Remus whispered, and Sirius nuzzled their cheek into his palm. "Can you...I want you to..." Remus' words escaped him and Sirius frowned a little

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

Remus swallowed and licked his lips, which Sirius' eyes followed. "I want you to sit on my face." Sirius suddenly bit their lip and tensed their thighs around Remus' hips.

"Are you sure? We can take it slow."

Remus nodded. "You'll still be in control, right? I'm just lying here." There was a whine from the back of Sirius' throat and they smiled.

"Okay. Lay back." And Remus did as he was told.

Sirius straightened their back and shimmied up his body, thighs settling on either side of Remus' head. They looked down at their boyfriend, seeing the lust in his eyes, and reached down to pull their lace underwear to one side. Sirius exhaled. "Hope you're hungry, my love." They purred, and the moment they were exposed they sank down. Remus stuck out his tongue on instinct, eyes locked on Sirius', and from the moment he felt the soft wetness he moaned. Loudly.

Sirius' breath hitched and they grabbed onto they headboard in front of them for stability. They had done this before, a couple times with other partners, but they had never been as sensitive as they were the first time feeling Remus' tongue against their clit. They bit their lip and watched, and felt, Remus start to explore them. His tongue was soft and curious, licking gently in circles to get used to it and to see if Sirius liked it.

Of course they did, Remus made them burn brighter than the sun and he had no idea. Sirius had only even been this nervous, this turned on, this confident and this desperate all at once for Remus Lupin. No one else even came close to comparing. And they never would.

Sirius gently rocked their hips down and moaned, their head tilting back as Remus seemed to get a little braver, using slow, long licks against their clit and between their folds. "There you go." Sirius nodded in encouragement, hands flexing against the headboard as Remus' tongue dipped inside for a fleeting second. "Oh fuck, can you do that again sweetheart?" Remus made a noise and moved his tongue back, and Sirius felt their eyes roll back into their head as Remus started to tongue fuck them, making them shiver and grind their hips down a little harder. "Remus, oh my god-" Their voice was higher pitched this time, more desperate, like they were begging.

Remus felt his own cock twitch in his jeans and his hands went to Sirius' thighs to ground himself. He didn't want to drop into a space he couldn't get out of, but Sirius' noises were making his brain go fuzzy. He kneaded their thighs and rolled his tongue before using his lips to suck gently at their clit, hoping that felt good as well. From the way Sirius suddenly pressed harder against him it must have. He watched their expressions change over time; that scrunched up face of pleasure to one more relaxed, filled with ecstasy. Remus was doing that to them, Remus was making them feel this good. He could have cum on the spot.

"Keep going, love. Don't stop." Sirius swallowed and finally opened their eyes again, looking down at him. "You're so good, baby. So good, holy shit." Their left hand moved from the headboard down to Remus' hair and they tugged with a lazy smile. "My good boy, doing so well." Remus whimpered and pushed his tongue inside them, catching Sirius off guard and making them whimper as well. "Right there, shit!" Sirius kept a firm hold on Remus' hair and started to fuck his face, rocking and squirming and almost bouncing at one point. They were already so close that it was torturous. No one had ever gotten them off from oral alone, and the idea of it being Remus was turning them on so much they could feel their slick between their thighs, coating Remus' mouth and chin. They tugged again, wanting Remus to look up at them.

"I'm gonna cum, okay? Do you want me to mo-" Sirius didn't even finished their sentence before feeling Remus latch onto their clit and start sucking. His hands wrapped around their thighs and Sirius cried out, covering their mouth so they didn't piss off the neighbours. "Baby-" Remus didn't say anything, just kept using his mouth to get them off, and Sirius starting moaning and whimpering louder and louder behind their hand, feeling their pussy pulse as Remus brought them right to the edge. "Please, please, please!"

Sirius threw their head back the the moment they started to cum but Remus kept them stable. He watched in awe as he felt Sirius cum on his tongue, feeling the wetness seep down his chin. His lashes fluttered, but he refused to let them close. He wanted this moment burnt into his brain, forever. He felt his start to throb uncomfortably in his jeans but he ignored it, moving his tongue and lips until his jaw burned, and only stopped when Sirius flopped over beside him, sitting there dazed and panting.

"You...you've never done that before?" They asked, clearly stunned. Remus just blushed and shook his head.

"No...was I okay?" Sirius let out a laugh and pushed some hair from their face.

"Baby, you've unlocked something dangerous." They suddenly got a look of hunger on their face and their eyes flickered to the very obvious bulge in Remus' jeans. Sirius grinned wickedly. "Your turn, sweet thing."

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 (here) — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3  — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 (END)

You weren’t a powerful Overlord nor were you the weaker ones to have their souls owned by other demons to survive in this hellhole. You’re merely capable enough to get by your everyday life. Like always, you’d stay clear from any of ongoing battles or powerful demons that were out and about. Your keen 6th sense to pinpoint potential dangers was always your go-to during your outings

You kind of treated Hell as your paradise to shut-in in your room and read all the comics you want plus watch all the TV shows you want. You were one of the rare demons that get connection to the Earth realm where you can enjoy the guilty pleasures you spend your days doing. Of course, your death was a suicide as you saw no life ahead of you

But you really really should have stayed in that day. It started out as any other day in Hell and you were on your way to the usual supermarkets for the junk food and drink you love. Normally, it was uneventful, until you caught sight of a dying demon, no, ‘wounded’ would be the right word since demons would only demon by angelic blades, even you knew that. Still, the demon was heavily wounded

It must have been a good few minutes since you caught weaker demons attempting to take advantage of the weakened demon as easy prey. You immediately took out your notebook, scribbing a phase before tearing it out and blow on it lightly. The page turned to white sparkles before taking shape of a row of angelic spears around you, it launched at the weak demons before they could do anything to the wounded one

You took went to the wounded demon quickly as your spears faded to nothing after doing its damage. You held his limb hand and closed your eyes, visualizing your cozy apartment and the ground swallowed the two of you up. In the blink of an eye, you were back home, sighing in relief

Not even a moment, you were knocked to the ground and pinned down by your shoulders and thigh. You struggled a bit before you realized it was the wounded demon that was pinning you down with radio dials for eyes

Without thinking, you reached into your coat pocket and took out a piece of paper, slamming it onto his face and blew at it. The paper faded to nothing but sparks then the demon stilled before closing his eyes and slumping forward onto you. Unconscious. But you invited someone you shouldn’t have into your home

This had to be Alastor, the Radio Demon

You grimaced, eying Alastor on top of you sleeping like a harmless deer. You thought of throwing him back out into the streets, but you didn’t exactly have the heart to. You came to the conclusion of healing him as fast as you could then sending him on his merry way! Yes!

Noooo!!! Why is he still here!?!?!?!?!?!?!??????!!!!!

“My dear, you really should be taking more care of your diet. This is hardly filling or healthy for you.” Alastor eyed the cup noodle you were about to open up like you were holding trash “But it’s fast and gets my hunger sated.” You eyed back, “It’s not like I’m feeding you this. I cook for your meals anyways…” You continued roaming around the kitchen, rubbing a fork, and setting a timer for your food. Ignoring the closeness of Alastor. “As long as it doesn’t concern you, it’ll be fine. I’ll treat you better since you just healed up. These are my own indulgence.” “And I appreciate your hospitality, dear, truly, I do. The matter at hand is your consumption!” Alastor grabbed your precious cup noodle lunch away, “I shall take over your meals from now on.”

Yes, you have fully healed Alastor and he’s back to full health. No, you didn’t tell him to stay. In fact, the moment his wounds were all healed, you showed him the open door, waiting for him to leave. He didn’t exactly let you make him leave. He said he was staying to repay your kindness, but all he was doing was inserting him into your afterlife and really making it Hell

At first, he praised your unique power to summon anything you write with a gentle blow, especially the part where you put him to sleep the first time. Then he urged you to make a name for yourself, but you really just want to shut yourself in your room and indulge in your time-wasting hobby. You told him off and shut yourself in your room, but he would just appear through the shadows and apologise, saying he’d leave the matter

When that whole business was done, Alastor got worse. You’re positive some other demons would love to be treated this way, but you’re just weirded out. It started out small, Alastor making meals like he said, shifting your schedule to a healthier one. Then taking care of your needs whenever you are about to do something. Even as simple as getting a glass of water

Then it escalated to touches. A handholding here, maybe he’s lean into you while reading. Or he’ll lay next to you in your own bed. Shift closer to you while on the couch. Stare at you while you were busy reading manga or watching animes and shows. Plus you could feel him staring at you while you sleep from the shadows even though you told him not to

But the most unnerving thing was when you would go restock on your food and other supplies. Alastor being the gentleman would carry and pay for your stuff. That you’re used to and didn’t care since either way, you had your methods. It was what happens during the two of you walking

“Alastor…” You hugged your coat tighter as your lips pressed together tightly from the scene, your eyebrows furrowed from the tense situation you were in. You had just left the shop to get new books and volumes, only to be met with such a sight. “What…” “My darling, your timing is perfect.” Alastor threw away the torn body of what used to be a demon. The street was covered with a layer of thick red and black blood. Hellborns and sinners alike were all brutally ripped away by the fearsome Radio Demon. “These pest dares to look at you wrongly, surely they deserve a good, limb pulling.” He walked over to you with his ever-present smile, offering his clean hand. “Shall we head home, My Doe?” You feel yourself tense as you firmly told him, “Just because they stare at me a little long and spat out rude remarks, it’s not an excuse or reason to torture them like this. I’m… I don’t exactly mind unless they attack.” Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, “Dearie, why give them the chance to harm you when I can prevent it? You can name and point fingers, I’ll be your killer.”

Trapped was what you felt at home and anywhere, as long as Alastor was there, you didn’t like it. Those sweet romantic gestures and attention from him that you would only see in your books and shows left a bad taste in your mouth. 

At the 4th year, however, something changed. Alastor sold his soul to you as the ‘last’ act of pure devotion and loyalty to you. Since the contract was all by your rules, you made use of it

Limit Alastor’s powers because it scares you how much he could do and the destruction he could cause. Forbid him from devouring or owning souls because he does it so easily when he thinks you were wronged in any way. And most importantly, forbid him from disobeying your words, whatever they may be, that way, you can finally have peace

How Alastor was still able to be this unnerving, you didn’t know and you didn’t want to know. Somehow, the contract was something like a declaration that the two of you were romantically involved with ecah other? If it made sense. It didn’t, really

Alastor still stayed with you because he had told you a long time ago that his home was destroyed in a brutal battle, hence why you found him that battered. So you offered yours. You did manage to set some firmer ground rules with the contract’s help. Like no entering your room or throwing away your junk food

Though Alastor still plays a big part in your life just because. You had wanted a lover before, but Alastor had proven how bad a relationship could go, and you two didn’t even established anything! You love fiction, fiction is life or afterlife. You can just drown yourself in the world of fiction and never leave

That’s the basis of your power. It’s like summoning through writing and the faint blow from your lips. You have to be aware of the components though, the hardest to summon was definitely the angel spears. It was the day after extermination and a spear was stuck into a demon, you were curious and took it back with you. You studied it and tested it out, knowing its strength and limitations before actually attempting to summon it. Works well enough, since it was easy to study

In the blink of an eye, 7 years had already passed. While Alastor was out on buying new ingredients for your celebration dinner of surviving another extermination, you caught the Princess of Hell and her promotion on the ‘Happy Hotel’. A place that welcomes anyone, a place that gives anyone a chance. It sounds lovely, but you didn’t have the mentality and energy to help out

A foolproof plan came to mind. You could, no, should send Alastor there. He loves entertainment! He wouldn’t be bored there! The hotel is much bigger and there’s more people there for him to hang out with. Plus he would definitely get a room there since he’s going to be staying. Even when he disagrees, because you just know he would rather stay by your side, you can use the contract as a last resort

“My dear!” Alastor greeted the moment he came back from his little shopping. He gave you a peak on the crown of your head when he walked past you, then headed to the table to place the bags of items down. “Did you hear about that ridiculous plan the Princess told in the picture box? Hahaha! It’s sure to fail! No way in any universe would just a silly and childish thing happen! No, sir!” “I want to help her with it, it sounds like a good plan. It’s better than annual exterminations.” You spoke while coming over to check the things Alastor brought. “But you know I’m more of a home person and not the go-out and help-others type.” “Exactly, dearie, we need not care for such fantasy.” Alastor nodded along. “That’s why you’re going in my place.” You stated firmly without blinking or shifting in your spot, at the growing static, you looked up to see Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dial. Very rarely are those directed at you since he swore he’d never do you harm or wish you harm. “You’ll go and help the Princess to make it a success.” Alastor’s eyes shifted back to normal, narrowing as he asked, “Till how long, my dear?” You had to control yourself to hide a smile as you spoke, “For as long as it takes of course. You can’t rush redemption, right? And it’s the first of its kind too.” The static grew again, you knew Alastor was getting annoyed with such a wish (order) from you. “But this would take a long while. I’d be returning to check on you, yes?” “Oh, no. Can’t interrupt your work.” You said, carrying your pile of snacks to your little comfort corner and dropping it with huff, there was a skip in your step as you returned back to the table. “You can’t come back here nor see me when in the service of the Princess. Well, you can see me when I’m the one to approach you or call for you, that’s the only exception.” Alastor would have a frown on by now if it weren’t for his insistence on the power of smiles, “Who would take care of you? Who would watch over you? Who would tend to you? Who would protect you while I’m gone, sweetheart?” You laughed, “Don’t be so dramatic. I can handle myself. It’s just like before I met you,” You didn’t miss the radio crackling like it broke connection, “But this time, I have you as a backup should I need.”

Making Alastor leave you wouldn’t have been possible without the contract and the fact that his soul was yours to control. Very pushy but you had to do what you had to, it was all to regain that quiet and isolated shut-in life you love. Never have you missed the silence in your home and the void of a watchful gaze all around you

You squealed and smiled brightly, “Time to chill and laze around!”

Oh how the Radio Demon was fuming as he made his way to that ratchaed hotel. He shouldn’t have let you know of such a news. If that inferno picture box was broken, then you wouldn’t know. No, you have your phone, so that makes no difference. Maybe it was the fact that that cannibal chef was gone that Charlie had time to promote that idea of hers? 

This would be his first appearance since 7 years ago. He kept his presence gone from the public eye just to hide his connection and fancy towards you. If demons knew you had his soul, who knows what danger you’d be in? He can’t let that happen to you. No, you were the kind soul that saved him and gave him a place to belong. Truly belong

Never had he felt such a sense of comfort around someone so lazy and chill. The fact that you were average but powerful in your right that you humble yourself to blend in with others. To live your afterlife as you please and like without a care in the world. So long as your interest was sated

He just couldn’t help but want to be yours. You deserve it, after all

But now. Now he had to provide his attention and care to some princess’ dream! What joke is this?!

Were you sending him away because he wasn’t strong enough? You limited his powers to see if he could still be as strong as before. Was that the reason? What other demon held your attention? As far as he knew. You have no interest in forming connections. He was the first one you actually cared for and hosted your home for! You don’t even own other souls and you’re strong!

He was your only one. Only!

In front of the hotel, he knocked rhythmically, waiting patiently for the door to be opened and for him to introduce himself. He’ll show you. “Hel—” The door closed shut in his face before it opened again, “-lo!”

His ears twitched as he heard the ruckus inside. These souls don’t deserve your time and attention spent on them, he’ll deal with the problem like always and return to your side. He’ll show you just how powerful and cruel he is and can be

The door opened again and he introduced himself with his plan in mind. “Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, princess. Quite a pleasure!”

Note: I really really didn't mean to do this so long... I could have put it into 2 parts, but I was too lazy to. There was actually some more I wanna add, but then it will be a literal essay. Anyways~ How you like this one?

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[hsunrry]

assistant // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request, since a lot of you are obsessed with assistant concept! (me too lol)

|| masterlist ||

words: ~2k

tropes: assistant y/n x harry

warnings: smut18+, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“hey, are you busy?” he peeked his head into your office. you were his assistant for almost half a year now and you were doing good, great even. you looked up from your laptop.

“no, what’s up?” you smiled softly. he walked inside and he settled himself on the chair in front of your desk. the way he looked made your knees go weak instantly.

“i was wondering if you could do me a favor.” you nodded, so he could continue. he was fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “i, uh… i wanted to ask you to pick an outfit for me to wear for tonight, y’know.” he smiled sweetly. “you’re always picking something nice for me and… yeah i was wondering if we could go to my house and pick something.”

“okay, sure.” you said, closing your laptop and standing up. he stood up as well, opening the doors for you. you could feel his eyes lingering on your ass, but decided to not comment on it. the way to his house was quick and calm. you both immediately went from his car inside and to his bedroom. he opened the doors to his wardrobe and you went inside.

“i was thinking about something with this pants.” he grabbed and showed you navy blue pants with very thin white stripes. you nodded and started looking through his clothes. you picked very light blue buttoned shirt, also with thin stripes, and sleeveless sweater with sheep all over it. he took it from you with a smile. “i knew i could count on you, love.” he grinned. “i’ll change and show you.” he quickly went to dressing room he had in wardrobe and after few minutes he walked out in final fit. “how do i look?”

“good, but…” you went to him to roll up his sleeves. “yes, that’s better.” he looked at himself in the mirror, turning around to look at his back as well. he seem very satisfied with this outfit. when he finally looked back at you, he catch you smiling at him. he walked over to you and stopped right in front of you, causing your head tilt back slightly to look at him. he was just staring for few seconds before he cupped your cheek.

“do you like me in this outfit?” you were a little taken aback at his hand on your cheek and how bold he was being right now.

“i mean, y-yeah, of course.” you swallowed quietly. he noticed you were a bit flustered, so he obviously had to tease you even more.

“you know, you’re really cute, darling.” he loved the effect he had on you, his pants getting already tighter.

“thanks?” you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks flushing a little because of his comment.

“are you blushing?” he grinned, caressing your cheek with his thumb. he looked at you up and down, clearly undressing you with his eyes.

“i just-“ you started, clearing your throat. you pulled back from him and his touch. “i’m sorry.” he loved how you were being so shy and vulnerable in this situation. he wanted to just take you right here and right now, but he knew he had to make sure you were into it just like him. “maybe i should just head back to my office.” he chuckled at your words, shaking his head.

“stay, i’m not done with you yet.” he took few steps closer to you, tilting your chin up so you could look up at him. at this point you were both standing in his bedroom instead of wardrobe. “you’re not leaving until i say so, alright love?” you just nodded at his words. you were so responsive to him it was driving him mad. “that’s a good girl.” he praised you. “you’re so sweet i could just eat you.” he said while looking down at you with a smile.

“what?” you looked up into his eyes confused.

“i said, that i could just eat you right now.” his smile got wider. his free hand went on your waist to keep you in place. you were thinking about one thing only right now: how wet you were just from his small touches and words. you were never that aroused in your life before. he could see how you were looking up at him with ‘fuck me’ eyes, causing his pants to get even tighter than before. he squeezed your waist slightly, looking down at your lips.

“i’m your assistant Harry.” you whispered.

“i’m aware.” his eyes never left your lips, he just wanted to kiss you right here and there. he looked back into your eyes. “why aren’t you pushing me away then? you could just tell me to back off and go back to your office, but you’re not doing that, hm?”

“i’m not.” your voice quiet. he pulled you closer to him.

“see, that’s why you want it too.” he leaned closer to your lips. “admit it.” when you nodded his smile returned. “such a good girl.” he praised you again, clearly enjoying how much power he had over you, having you so desperate and willing to be good for him. “you’ve been driving me crazy for the past few months.” he admitted, his hand going up and down your waist.

“really?” you asked. your innocence making him smile even wider.

“you have no idea.” his lips almost touching yours, you could feel how his breath was tickling you. “i need to know if you want it too.” he whispered. you swallowed quietly, reaching for his hand. you placed it under your dress, on your already drenched panties. you wanted to show him the effect he had on you. he let out a low, almost feral growl when he felt how wet you were for him, that you were practically dripping. “oh god.” he gasped, moving his fingers slowly over your covered core. you licked your lips slightly, his eyes watching closely how your tongue darted over them and he couldn’t take it anymore. his closed the gap between you two, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. he let out a soft huff when he felt you kissing him back, his hand gripping the nape of your neck. he started going backwards and pulling you with him. his legs hit the back of the bed and he sat down, making you straddle his lap. he broke the kiss, so he could start leaving a trial of wet kisses on your neck. he let out quiet groan, when he felt you tilting your head to the side to give him better access. you started moving your hips on him, feeling his hardness under you. he started sucking and nibbling on your neck, already losing it due your hips movement. “good girl, keep going that.” he mumbled into your skin between kisses. he quickly took off your dress, looking at your half-naked body. he groaned at the sight of your laced set that was leaving little to imagination. for him you looked like some kind of goddess sitting astride his lap like that. “you look…” he licked his lips as he looked at your face again. “so, so good like that, you’re so pretty, angel.” you smiled at his words, his hand cupping your cheek again. “you’re driving me insane.” his eyes filled with hunger and lust. you gripped the hem of sleeveless sweater, quickly taking it off and tossing it somewhere on the floor, where your dress probably already were. your hands quickly started working to unbutton his shirt, leaving him only in pants and boxers underneath them. fabric was visibly stretched over his bulge, ready to just be free already. he reached for the clasp of your bra, undoing it quickly and taking it off. he immediately started to kiss your chest and suck on your nipples, making you moan quietly. “you’re so beautiful, you have no idea.” he said between kisses. “i need you so bad right now.”

“i need you too.” you finally spoke, unbuttoning his pants. he could feel himself twitching in his pants at your touch in this area. he picked you up, making you lay on the bed right after that. he took his pants off, leaving himself only in boxers. when he grabbed your panties, he looked at you, searching with his eyes for silent permission. when you smiled he took them off, spreading your thighs and leaning down to your core. he started slowly kissing your folds.

“i’m gonna make you feel so good baby, you’re so perfect for me.” he looked up at you from between your legs, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit. his lips wrapping around bulge of nerves, making you moan louder. he pushed two fingers inside you, moving them slowly and preparing you for him nice and slow. “you taste so good.” he smiled against your pussy. “and you’re so fucking wet for me, i love it.” he gave you one last suck on your clit, withdrawing his fingers and pushing them back with third added.

“oh god.” you clenched around his fingers. he started to move then faster, curling into perfect angle to hit your g-spot.

“that’s right, let me hear you, you sound so pretty for me.” he started kissing your inner thighs. “are you on birth control?” you nodded, not being able to say anything right now. “good, i want to feel all of you. would you let me?” he withdrew his fingers, licking them clean.

“yes.” you watched him taking off his boxers. he positioned himself at your entrance, pressing slightly. “you ready for me, doll?” you nodded, feeling him stretching you open right after.

“fuck.” you gasped. his one hand gripping your hip and the other one going under your back on your shoulder to hold onto you. he started moving slowly, making sure you were comfortable with everything, but when he saw pure pleasure on your face he picked up the pace. he was looking at you, taking your features and trying to memorise this moment. your hand went to cup his cheek. he nuzzled into it, kissing your palm gently. your other hand went to touch his back.

“you feel so good.” he panted. “wrap your legs around me.” you quickly obeyed, giving you both better angle. he was taking the sight of you in his bed, picking up the speed.

“Harry, fuck.” you moaned.

“say my name again, darling. please.” he adjusted slightly, hitting your sweet spot with every move now. your head tilting back from pleasure.

“oh my god, Harry, just like that.” you whined, feeling your orgasm building in your lower stomach.

“i told you i was gonna make you feel good, didn’t i?” he whispered into your ear, gripping your hip tighter to move faster and harder. he started sucking on your neck again, feeling you clench around him. “come for me baby, i can feel you’re close, come on, be a good girl for me.”

“yes, i- oh my god- please.” you gasped.

“god, to think we could’ve been doing this for ages.” he groaned, his movements getting desperate as he was close himself. “you look so beautiful, taking my cock so well, just like that.”

“oh my fucking god!” your whole body arched and shook when you finished, milking his dick with your juices. he groaned, emptying himself deep inside you and nuzzling his face into your neck. he fucked you both through your orgasms, slowing down after few thrusts. he placed little kisses on your neck, feeling you both calming down slowly.

“can i say something cheesy?” he pulled out from your neck to look at you.

“sure.” you chuckled breathlessly.

“i’m falling for you so hard.” he kissed your lips softly.

[bombuni]

private lessons

summary: Professor Jeong is kind enough to help you with your assignments after-hours. genre/pairing: professor!yunho x student!reader, college au, smut wc: 1.8k warnings: SMUT MDNI, meandom!yunho, sub!fem!reader, risqué topic but they are both of age consenting adults, monster cock jeong yunho agenda, lil degradation, the use of ‘slut’, creampie bom note: bad day today and my brain went uooghhhh professor yunho backshots and it cheered me up so maybe this will cheer u up too

Professor Jeong is the kindest man you’ve met.

He’s quick to answer your questions and complement your work. He greets you every morning with a kind smile and a wave of his hand, glasses slipping down his nose as he scutters around with piles of papers in his gentle hands. He watches you a lot. It’s often you look up during a lesson and find that he’s already looking at you with a feeling you can’t quite name. You chalk it up to him keeping an eye on his star pupil.

It’s the beginning of the semester and you’re not sure how, but you’re already struggling. Professor Jeong, amazingly enough, immediately took notice of your slipping grades and offered extra help before you could even ask. Graciously, you accepted his invitation to discuss your latest assignment with him in his office. You don’t think much of it. Him personally inviting you to his office hours is completely normal.

Right?

His office smells like a coffee shop, oddly enough. It’s a cramped space with piles of papers everywhere, but you spot his brown head of hair behind his computer and knock on your way in.

He seems to light up at the sight of you, leaning back and stretching in his chair, “Good to see you, miss,” God, his white button-up shirt is impossibly tight, “I was hoping you’d show up. Most of my students bail.”

You shyly giggle at the boyish smile he gives you, “Well, I’m not like the rest of your students, Professor,” his veiny hands come up to fiddle with his tie, “And ‘miss’ makes me feel old.”

He chuckles quietly as he organizes the mess on his desk and beckons you to sit, “Well, I’ll refrain from calling you ‘miss’ if you call me Yunho instead. We’re practically the same age anyways. Deal?”

Yunho’s rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as he speaks to you, and it causes you to malfunction. All you can do is stare hungrily and unabashedly at his pale skin.

“Deal.”

Tongue poking his cheek, you watch as his eyes run over you. The smile he holds on his face is deceivingly sweet. He’s holding back from saying something, just barely, and you want to unravel whatever thread makes the thoughts in his head. You want to unravel the threads in his clothes the longer he watches you like prey too, but that’s neither here nor there.

Yunho seems to swallow his words for a moment, adam’s apple bobbing as he pretends to gather all of the necessary materials. In reality, he’s attempting to gather all the strength he has to ignore the purposeful cleavage you’re showing. He knows it’s inappropriate to glance, but is it really his fault when you’re so clearly putting on a show for him?

He looks at you over his glasses, eyebrows raised and smile cheeky, “Don’t you get cold?”

You feign innocence, etching confusion on your face and leaning in just close enough so he’ll catch a whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, “What ever do you mean, Yunho?”

A puff of air escapes his nostrils in disbelief. You’re very aware of what you’re doing to him. He removes his thin-wired glasses, soft eyes turning intimidating once you’re meeting them with zero layers. He tilts his head at you questioningly, slender hand cupping his chin in mock thought. Everything he does is unwittingly graceful, elegance in his nature.

“Did you really come here for help on your essay?” He asks tauntingly and softly.

You mirror him, “Don’t act like you don’t stare at me during lectures,”

He chuckles at you and leans back in his chair, “I don’t. Is that what you think?”

The pout on your face is enticingly cute, “Don’t lie, Yunho.”

“Are you calling your professor a liar?” He raises a brow at you and you shrink in your seat.

Yunho continues as he leans on his desk, eyes focused on you and glancing down every once in a while, “I stare because you’re a slut, sweetheart. You let everyone on campus see you like that?”

A blush blooms bright on your cheeks now and Yunho lets out a mocking giggle. He’s unfortunately got you pegged. In truth, you only revealed skin on days you knew you’d see Yunho. You’ve been preparing and fantasizing about him using you like his own fuck toy ever since the first day he stepped into the lecture hall. Now that it’s happening though, you fear you’re in over your own head.

You look down under his scrutinizing gaze, “N-no. Just you, I only dress like this for you.”

He hums, standing from his desk and walking over to your side. Even the sound of his footsteps is intimidating, echoing in the reaches of your mind and igniting a fire in your gut. You feel a warm hand on your chin, his slender fingers sending sparks where they touch your skin. He lifts your head to face him and you listen on instinct.

He wears a smirk now. Like he’s a mastermind who’s trapped you, “Prove it to me, sweetheart.”

You sit there frozen for a second, only staring up at Yunho as your brain fries. He tsk’s at you as he leads your hands towards his belt buckle. Once you understand and start unbuckling his belt, he smiles and pats your head. It only makes your mouth water more.

The cock that greets you when you finally unzip Yunho is comedically big. You look up at him with nervous doe eyes and he feels himself get harder. He runs a comforting hand through your hair, throbbing and hissing when he feels you lick a long stripe along the length of him. You keep teasing him like this, licking what you can and keeping your lips on his leaking tip before he decides he’s had enough.

He places both of his hands on the sides of your head, holding you on his cock, “Sluts don’t get to tease,” he forces you an inch down him, the wetness of your mouth clouding whatever resolve and restraint he has, “You just suck my cock. Got it, pretty girl?”

He feels you nod through the cock stuffed in your mouth. Yunho guides your mouth along as you try to take all of him in, tears welling in your eyes with every inch you take. Watching you struggle to take him has his mouth hanging open, beads of sweat falling from his forehead. It takes all he has not to fuck your pretty mouth stupid.

You get as far as you think you’ll be able to before you push off of him, leaving kisses on his pink cock and trailing saliva strings. Yunho slaps his cock tip on your tongue when you open your mouth upon request, feeling his ego swell when you obey to his every command. His very best student.

Yunho leans down to kiss you, messily and provocatively. He refuses to let you get any air, stealing any that you have as he holds you to his lips. He tastes himself on your tongue when he makes his way into your mouth, your body limp against him as you let him do what he wants.

He pants into your mouth, “We’re gonna train that pussy next,”

You whine and hold his wrists, still drowning in everything that is Yunho, “Y-yunho, what if someone walks in…?”

He separates from you, once again bringing a hand to your chin to force your attention on him, “Now the little sluts worried?” He pulls you up by your shoulders, turning you around and folding you onto his desk instantaneously, “I think you’d love it if someone walked in on your Professor stuffing you with his cock.”

You shake your head, denying the idea even though you can feel yourself dripping at the thought of someone seeing you like this. Yunho brings a hand down and under your skirt, rubbing your slit through your damp panties. Your pretty white panties, he finds as he lifts your skirt over your ass.

His voice sends chills down your spine as he leans in and whispers in your ear, putting all of his weight onto your back, “Don’t you feel yourself, princess? I’m gonna destroy this little pussy whether someone watches or not,”

He slides his cock along your panties, patience disappearing as slender fingers slide under the fabric to pull them aside. You feel him at your entrance, his precum and your slick mixing as he attempts to bottom out. The stretch is unbelievable, but for once you feel like you’ve had your fill. He has you breaking down, moaning, and toppling the stacks of papers on his desk when he’s not even fully in.

The metal desk is cold under your cheek and your fingertips, “‘S so big, Yunho,”

He chuckles at how broken you sound, “You can take it, sweetheart. Isn’t this what you came to my office for?”

“Y-yes! Yes!” He slides fully in, groaning at the way you suck him in and mold yourself around him. You’re leaking all over him. He pushes his bangs out of his face, sweat clinging to his skin as he holds your hips. Yunho waits for you to settle before finally moving. When he does, it feels like every nerve in your body has collected in your pussy. He raises your sensitivity to its maximum, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching around him filling his office.

He sets a quick pace, rhythmically slamming his hips into yours and moaning into your ear with every thrust, “You’re so tight for me, princess, fuck, you’re gonna drain me.”

His balls slap against your skin, pounding you over and over unforgivingly into his desk. He’s lost all sense of restraint. Yunho’s hips begin to stutter inside of you as his moans grow whinier, his forearm wrapping around the front of you. He holds you tightly against him before thrusting one last time and making sure to cum deep inside you. He jolts every couple of seconds, gently fucking his cum back inside of you. Yunho likes the feeling of marking you.

The cramped room is searingly hot now and smells of sex. You try to gather your bearings on Yunho’s desk, next to a printed copy of your own essay and his forgotten cup of coffee. You’ll be surprised if someone didn’t hear the two of you fucking like rabbits.

Yunho lifts himself off of you, letting your panties cover your pussy again. His cum and your slick mix again and a part of you is disgustingly proud to walk around like this, secretly knowing you belong to him.

He’s buckling his belt again, smiling like a shy love struck boy with red cheeks and sweaty forehead, “Same time next week?”

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

Bruised But Not Broken - Theodore Nott

The crisp autumn air was electric with excitement as the Slytherin Quidditch team took their positions on the pitch. The match against Gryffindor was bound to be brutal— it always was. You adjusted your gloves and cast a glance toward the other side of the pitch, catching the glare of Harry Potter, Gryffindor’s Seeker. Your heart pounded, but not from nerves. No, you thrived on the competition, the rush of wind against your skin, and the sheer exhilaration of the game.

From your position as Chaser, you spotted Theodore Nott, your boyfriend and fellow teammate, a few yards away. He was already on his broom, his sharp eyes scanning the field for any sign of movement. Theo wasn’t the loudest of players, but his presence on the team was undeniable. Strategic, precise, and utterly ruthless when needed— he was a force to be reckoned with.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

The Quaffle soared through the air, and you were immediately in pursuit, weaving through players with practiced ease. You intercepted a pass from Ginny Weasley and bolted toward the Gryffindor goalposts. Just as you were about to shoot, a Bludger whizzed past your ear, nearly knocking you off balance. You growled in frustration, dodging another oncoming Gryffindor player before hurling the Quaffle towards the hoop.

The crowd roared as the ball slipped through— a perfect goal.

Theo’s voice cut through the noise as he zoomed past you. “Nice shot, stellina.” His smirk was brief but filled with pride.

The game continued in a blur of motion and adrenaline. The Gryffindors fought tooth and nail, their Beaters sending Bludgers mercilessly in your team’s direction. You barely managed to dodge another one before passing the Quaffle to Lorenzo Berkshire. The match was intense, neither team gaining a solid advantage. And then— disaster struck.

You didn’t see the Bludger coming. One moment you were reaching for a pass, the next you felt an explosion of pain in your side. The force sent you spiraling off your broom, the world turning into a chaotic blur as you plummeted toward the ground.

The last thing you heard before everything went dark was Theodore shouting your name.

You woke to the sterile scent of the hospital wing, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls. Your head ached, your body sore, but the real warmth came from the steady presence beside you.

Theo sat by your bed, his dark eyes filled with worry and barely concealed anger. His hand was wrapped around yours, thumb absentmindedly brushing against your knuckles. He looked disheveled. His robes were wrinkled, his hair an unruly mess, and the storm in his expression sent a pang through your chest.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice thick with relief.

You attempted a weak smirk. “What gave it away?”

His glare lacked its usual sharpness. “Don’t joke about this. You scared the hell out of me.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m fine, Theo.”

His jaw tightened. “You fell twenty feet, amore. Madam Pomfrey said you broke two ribs and dislocated your shoulder. Do you have any idea what that looked like from where I was?”

The raw emotion in his voice made you pause. Theo was always composed, always in control, but now, his fingers were gripping yours with an almost desperate intensity. He swallowed hard, his usual restraint cracking. “You weren’t moving. You just— you just lay there. I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily before running a frustrated hand through his hair. “It should have been me. I should have been watching out for you.”

You frowned, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Theo, that’s not how Quidditch works. It was an accident.”

He turned his face into your palm, closing his eyes for a brief moment before exhaling. “I should have done something.”

Before you could argue further, a thought occurred to you. “Wait— who won the match?”

Theo’s eyes snapped open, pure disbelief flashing across his face. “You nearly died, and you’re asking who won?”

You huffed. “I need to know if all that was worth it.”

Theo stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head in exasperation. “We won. But for Merlin’s sake, that’s not the point.”

A small, satisfied grin tugged at your lips. “Good.”

He groaned, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Only you would ask that first.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.” But there was no real bite in his words— just an undeniable softness as he continued fussing over you, making sure you were comfortable.

When you were finally discharged, Theo was practically glued to your side. He refused to let you carry your own books, made sure you were eating enough, and shot daggers at anyone who even remotely got in your way. It was both endearing and exasperating.

Back in the Slytherin common room, you finally felt some semblance of normalcy returning— or at least, you would have, if Theo wasn’t still hovering.

Mattheo was the first to comment on it. “Alright, what’s with all this domestic nonsense?” He gestured at Theo, who was currently adjusting the blanket around you for what felt like the fifth time.

“I’m taking care of my girlfriend,” Theo replied flatly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lorenzo snorted. “Since when are you this soft, Nott?”

“Since his girlfriend nearly died on the pitch,” Pansy cut in, giving Theo an approving nod. “I think it’s sweet.”

Draco, who had been watching the scene with mild amusement, smirked. “I think it’s terrifying. I didn’t know Theo was capable of this level of affection.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “You lot act like Theo isn’t always like this.”

“Not in public, he’s not,” Mattheo pointed out.

Theo, unfazed by their teasing, simply pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. “You can all piss off,” he said idly. “She’s still recovering.”

Pansy smirked. “And you’re hopelessly in love.”

Mattheo let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest. “I think I might be sick. Theo, say something cold and heartless to balance this out.”

Theo ignored him, instead reaching for your hand and rubbing slow circles against your palm. “You warm enough?” he murmured, completely undisturbed by their laughter.

Lorenzo laughed. “Merlin, we’ve lost him. He’s gone.”

Despite their teasing, you knew they all meant well. And as you leaned into Theo’s embrace, warm and safe in his arms, you realized you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 4

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,390ish

Summary: The wedding and your first night as husband and wife.

Warning(s): abuse, nonconsensual touching, inappropriate talk

Notes: If you haven’t seen it yet, linked here is the floor plan that I made for the mansion. Please send in reactions!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Your hands were trembling as members of your father’s female office staff, fluttered around you. You were standing on a pedestal in front of a large mirror as they forced you into your wedding dress and got you done up for the wedding. You could barely recognize yourself in the mirror as you stared at yourself, ignoring the bustling around you. 

You were about to marry Tony Stark. A man who clearly didn’t like you. You knew that he was being forced into this as much as you were. And it sure seemed like he was going to take that frustration out on you.

Eventually, you were all ready for your wedding and left alone. It was a relief and felt like it was going to be your only moment to truly breath all day. Unfortunately, your small moment of peace was interrupted when Brock waltzed in. 

“Hot,” he immediately commented. 

His eyes took their time running down your back side. You swallowed uncomfortably as you kept your eyes down, not wanting to watch his actions from the mirror in front of you. Brock came over and wrapped his arms around you. 

“I wish that you were this dressed up for me,” he murmured. 

Brock’s hands moved up your front and cupped your breasts. Your breath hitched and your eyes snapped to watch what he was doing in the mirror. You couldn’t prevent the rapid beating of your heart and the churning of your stomach.

“Why don’t we run away?” Brock suggested, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Then you can finally be mine.”

“We— we can’t, Brock,” you stammered. “My father—“

“I know, I know, your old man wouldn’t be happy. Besides, he promised me his whole business. I can’t pass up an opportunity to have his business and his daughter. Guess that I’ll just have to wait.” 

He forcefully turned you around and pulled you in for a sickening kiss. You didn’t kiss back, just letting him run his open mouth over your mouth. His tongue wiping over you, like he was liking a popsicle.

“That’s enough,” your father ordered. Brock pulled away. You hadn’t even noticed that your father had entered the room. “Go find your seat, Brock, before you ruin her too much.”

Brock gave you one last devilish grin before slipping out of the room. You looked at your father, trying not to be hopeful that he’d say something kind.

“In this marriage, you cannot embarrass me,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will do what your husband asks. Everything your husband asks. Whether it is sexual, household chores, what to where. You belong to him. Do you understand?”

You nodded. “Yes, father.”

“You also cannot forget that you are my daughter. There will be a time that I need you to do something and I expect that it gets done without complications.”

“I understand.”

He grunted as he came over and offered you his arm. “Let’s get this over with then.”

~~~

Tony threw down the glass of whiskey as his father and mother entered the room.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Anthony,” Maria complimented. She went up to him and straightened his tie as he tossed the glass onto the table.

Tony scoffed. “I feel like a prisoner.”

“Get over it, Tony,” Howard retorted. 

“Make me.”

“You will take this serious, Tony. This is about more than just you. Obadiah Stane is a dangerous man and we would do better to have him on our side, even if this is the way to do it. So, you will get up there, say I do, sign the needed documents, and take your wife home to bed her.”

“Howard!” Maria exclaimed. “Y/N is not an object. She is a scared girl, who deserves respect.” Her focus fell back on Tony. “Tony, you will not force anything more upon that poor girl. She doesn’t want this anymore than you do. You will be respectful and will not push her boundaries.”

“They are to be married, Maria. Sex it part of it.”

“Not if they don’t want it to be. Not if they don’t want each other. Nothing has to happen. The deal was that they marry and Obadiah and you become business partners. Sex was never the deal.”

“Maria—“

“No. Tony will be respectful and not force himself upon Y/N, right?”

“Of course,” Tony replied, more to just end this conversation than anything.

Howard glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to go. Smile, Tony. It’s your wedding day.”

~~~

Your father grinned with fake pride as he led you down the aisle. You wished you could disappear as the eyes of other crime families, Stark employees, and Stane employees followed you. You kept your eyes ahead at the wall behind the minster. Tony’s hands were stuffed in his pocket as he stood in front of the minster, staring off to the wall at the side. He didn’t want this. He hated his father for making him do this.

Obadiah led you in front of Tony and pressed a kiss to your cheek before going to sit on the front row next to Brock, who was glaring daggers at Tony. You and Tony looked passed each other as the minister began speaking. Your hands were collapsed together in front of you as you took deep breaths to try to remain calm. Your heart was beating so hard, you felt like you might pass out.

The minister pulled the rings out, revealing two matching gold bands. Like robots, you and Tony quickly placed them on each others fingers and mumbled ‘I do’ when prompted.

“I now announce you as husband and wife, Mr and Mrs. Stark,” the minster said. “You may kiss the bride.”

You stayed still, not knowing what to do. Tony could feel the weight of his father’s gaze, urging him to step forward. Tony stepped forward and placed his hands on your arms. You immediately tensed, which he took notice. As he leaned in, he could hear that your breaths were coming out in short, barely there pants. Tony’s large brown eyes locked with yours and he could see how you seemed to be drowning from the inside. His mom’s words filled his head.

“She hasn’t known kindness like you have. She hasn’t been lucky like you.”

Clearly, whatever his mom truly meant by that wasn’t good. And the longer he gripped your arms, the more he could feel you trembling. You were just a scared girl, forced into this marriage. Everyone was waiting impatiently for you two to kiss, but even Tony knew that it wasn’t right. He leaned in over to your ear, covering your face from the prying eyes.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered.

You gave a barely there nod. As gently as he could, Tony turned you so that his back was blocking you from view. He leaned you back a little and kissed the corner of your mouth. The crowded room cheered and applauded. Tony carefully stood you back up and let you go before stepping away.

Howard and Obadiah got up from there seats and stood next to you two. Servers seemingly appeared out of nowhere and began handing out glasses of champagne. Your father put an arm around you and smiled, leaning in close.

“Smile, daughter,” he demanded lowly. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You exhaled shakily and pressed out a smile.

“Everyone, please take a glass of champagne!” Howard encouraged. “We must toast to our new union!”

A glass was forced into your hand before you even realized it. Everything was a blur as people toasted and celebrated. You stood there, frozen. A smile plastered on your face as you were unable to lift the glass to your lips. 

A few long minutes later, you were being forcefully maneuvered over to the nearby table and a pen was shoved into your hand. With a shaky signature, you signed whatever documents they placed in front of you. You were truly signing your life away and you had no choice in the matter. 

You were grateful that there was no party afterwards. Everyone simply went back to their lives. Your father, Maria, and Howard walked you and Tony out to the car, where Tony’s driver was waiting to take you to your new home. Your father pulled you into a rare, overly tight hug.

“You give him whatever he wants,” Obadiah ordered in your ear. “Whatever he wants. When ever. You are still my daughter. Do not dare to embarrass me.”

He pulled away and Maria quickly engulfed you in a gentle hug.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she told you. “I’ll come over in a couple of days to make sure you’re all settled.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you… for being so kind.”

“My dear, you deserve all the kindness the world has to offer and more.”

“We should let the newlyweds go,” Howard said.

Maria released you from her hug and gave you a small smile. Over her shoulder, you could see Brock watching you carefully. You knew that Maria would try her best to prevent Brock from working with you, but you also knew that your father had his ways. Tony’s driver opened the back door and Tony looked at you expectantly. You walked over and slid into the car. Tony came in behind you and the door was shut, leaving the two of you in a thick silence. 

You both kept to your own sides of the car as Tony’s driver, who’s name was Happy, took you to your new home. You kept your eyes focused out the window while Tony’s eyes kept finding their way to you. He was waiting for the shoe to drop. For the brattiness and annoyingness to suddenly appear from you. But it wasn’t coming. You just seemed scared and tense. His phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from you. Tony pulled his phone out of his jacket and opened the message.

Pepper: Hey Tones :) How was the wedding? Still want me to come over tonight?

Tony glanced your way briefly before answering.

Tony: It was fine. It’s over now. Yeah. Come over in an hour.

Pepper: Can’t wait :) I’ll make sure to wear white ;)

Tony sighed, slipping his phone back into his jacket. When Happy pulled up to the house, he opened your door first. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as you got out.

He shot you a smile. “Anytime, ma’am,” he replied.

Tony got himself out of the car and started into the house. You quickly followed, little a lost puppy, growing more nervous with every step. Your father ordered you to do whatever Tony wanted, that meant sex. It was your wedding night and Tony was most likely expecting it. You would have to be okay with that. You couldn’t afford to embarrass your father.

Tony began removing his tie as he walked towards his side of the house. You followed not too far behind, not knowing what to do. When Tony noticed that you were behind him, he turned around.

“Do you need something?” He immediately asked.

“Uh, I— Well….” You stammered nervously. “It’s just— I was told—“

“I’m not going to force you into sex, don’t worry. Doesn’t matter that it’s our wedding night. You can just stick to your side of the house and I’ll stick to mine. Alright?” You quickly nodded. “Good.” Tony spun on his heal and headed for his side of the house.

You let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding and slowly made your way to your new bedroom. You wanted to get out of this wedding dress, feeling like it was weighing you down. Entering your closet, you found it full of new clothes. There was a note sitting on one of the shelves. You opened it.

I hope you like the clothes. The girls and I picked them out. Let me know if you don’t and we can all go shopping. With love, Maria

You smiled at the note. Maria was too kind to you and you were grateful for it. You found a comfortable outfit and relieved yourself of the wedding dress. After finding some snacks in the kitchen, you found yourself exploring your new studio. There was everything you needed for your ceramic projects and more. There were plenty of tables, kilns of different sizes, multiple wheels, and multiples of a variety of tools.

Slipping an apron over your head and tying it around you, you turned on some soft classical music and got to work. Your worried quickly melting away as you got lost in actions.

~~~

“So, how is she?” Pepper questioned as she cuddled close to Tony. “She bratty? Is she going to drive you crazy and constantly spend your money?”

“Who?” Tony questioned, his mind going many different places.

“Y/N, obviously.”

“Oh, yeah, right. I don’t really know her. She’s… quiet.”

“I’m sure that won’t last long.”

Tony simply hummed, not knowing what to make of you just yet.

~~~

Pepper fell asleep not too long later and Tony slipped out of bed. He pulled a pair of sweats on and padded out to the shared living space for a drink. The sound of soft classical music caught his attention. It was clearly coming from your side. Too curious to respect that it was your side of the house, Tony quietly made his way towards the music. 

The double doors of what Tony thought was your office, as it mirrored where his was, were cracked open and the sound of music floated from it. He inched closer and peered inside. Tony was shocked to see that it wasn’t an office, it seemed to be an art studio. You were standing at one of the middle table, kneading some claying. You had dried clay on almost every inch of you but you looked more at ease than Tony had ever seen.

Tony stood there and watched for far too long. He only broke out of his trance when he heard Pepper calling his name. He was grateful when you didn’t seem to hear her. After giving you one last glance, Tony headed back to his side of the house and rejoined Pepper in bed. He fell asleep wondering what the hell your story was.

next chapter >

[belit0]

Imagine Shisui having beef with his kid self (somehow time travelled) cause his kid self is taking all the attention.

SHISUI IS DYING

The moment the rift in time had swallowed him up, nine-year-old Shisui barely had time to yelp before he was tumbling forward—head over heels, arms flailing—until he landed hard on the wooden floor of a house he did not recognize.

His head spun.

–What the—?– he started, only to freeze when a shadow loomed over him.

He blinked up, eyes widening at the sight of a woman staring down at him with a mixture of shock and—wait, was that adoration?

–Oh. My. God.– (Y/N) breathed.

And before little Shisui could react, he was scooped up, lifted into warm arms that immediately wrapped around him like the safest cocoon in the world.

–You're so cute!– she gushed, hugging him close. –Oh my god, you're so small, look at you!–

Little Shisui, who had expected something way more dramatic—maybe a villain, a battle, something—just blinked, entirely lost.

–Um… thanks?

But (Y/N) was melting. His chubby cheeks, his big, round eyes, his little confused frown—he was adorable.

–Look at your little hands! Look at your little face! You're just a baby!– she cried, cupping his cheeks with both hands.

Little Shisui turned red, flustered and squirming. –I’m not a baby! I’m nine!–

–Even worse! You're a tiny, precious boy! Oh, come here!– She squeezed him tighter, rubbing his back, swaying slightly in delight.

And that was when the door slid open.

–What the hell is going on?

(Y/N) turned—and there, standing in the doorway, was another Shisui.

But this one was taller.

Stronger.

Older.

And the expression on his face was downright murderous.

(Y/N) beamed. –Shisui! Look! It's you! But tiny!–

Adult Shisui's eye twitched.

He took in the scene—(Y/N) cuddling his younger self, her entire focus on him, her arms cradling him like he was the most precious thing in existence—and something deep inside him snapped.

–Alright, put him down. And you, go back where you came from.

-I don't even-!- Young Shisui couldn't finish his phrase, asphyxiated by her hugh.

(Y/N) gasped, horrified. –I will not! Look at him! He’s a baby! He needs love!–

Little Shisui, entirely overwhelmed by everything happening, blinked between the two of them. –Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean "it's you"?! Who are you?!–

Adult Shisui ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. –I’m you. You’re me. Time travel nonsense. Whatever. More importantly— his eyes narrowed at (Y/N), –why are you still holding him?–

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. –Because he's adorable! Obviously!–

Shisui clenched his jaw. –So what? I’m not adorable?–

(Y/N) grinned. –Oh, yeah, but in a different way.–

That was not the answer he wanted.

Little Shisui, still utterly confused, frowned. –Wait, does that mean you two are… married?–

Adult Shisui went still.

(Y/N) blinked.

And then—

–MARRIED?!– Shisui choked, –Whoa, slow down, kid!–

Little Shisui huffed. –Well, she’s holding me like my mom used to, so I just thought—!–

(Y/N) gasped, clutching him closer. –I’m your favorite now, aren’t I?–

Shisui gawked at her. –Stop enticing my nine-year-old self!–

(Y/N) ignored him, pressing a kiss to little Shisui’s forehead. –Don’t listen to him, baby, you’re perfect.–

Little Shisui turned beet red.

Adult Shisui glared.

This was going to be the worst day of his life.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

dance evening. l Joel Miller

Summary:  this evening was full of music and dancing

Warnings:  tw: panic attack, panic attack symptoms, drinking alcohol, fluff, they are just for each other

A/N: your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The dance hall was really nicely decorated. Hundreds of lights were lit from the ceiling, tables were pushed to the wall to make room for people dancing, and someone was playing some good old music.

You didn't know if your head was spinning from the dancing or from that one drink you had earlier. As soon as you sat down in your chair, someone would immediately appear and offer you another dance, and you couldn't refuse. 

You noticed Ellie on the other side of the hall where she was sitting with her friends, and Joel was watching you from your table, sipping his whiskey.

It was a pleasant evening, full of laughter, memories, and promises that you had to do it all again soon. He listened to all of this without taking his eyes off you, smiling when you managed to go back to your table only to get up again right away.

Life in Jackson went on at its own pace, and you somehow managed to get used to it. On nights like this, you could forget about your worries and the danger waiting outside the gate.

Joel swallowed another sip of whiskey, smiled at Tommy and Maria dancing nearby, his gaze wandered to you again when he suddenly felt it.

His heart sped up as if it was taking part in some strange race. He clenched his fingers around the glass, trying to somehow control this terrible feeling, but he felt that he couldn't do it. 

The cold began to pass through his entire body, and the sounds around him became both louder and distant at the same time. Joel squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

You noticed him just as he stood up a bit unsteadily from the table and headed for the exit. The older man you were dancing with just spun you around and Joel disappeared from your sight for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but... I'm sorry, but I have to go." You said quickly, letting go of his hand and making your way through the other people to the exit.

The cold air swept over your face. The dark sky was dotted with stars, but you didn't have time to admire it. You looked around quickly and noticed Joel not far away. He was leaning uncertainly against the wall of a nearby building.

You quickly approached him, placing your hand on his shoulder and asked "Hey, are you okay?"

It was like a hand that appears when you're already underwater and don't know how to get out. Your presence sharpened his senses in an instant. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his breathing. His fists, clenched to white, were heavier than ever.

That's when he saw and felt you. Your warm hands gently cupped his face and guided him so that he could see you in front of him.

"It's okay, Joel... I'm here." You whispered, your voice sounding like it came from the afterlife "Breathe. Deeply and slowly... With me."

You took a deep breath through your nose, inhaled it deeply into your lungs and exhaled slowly through your mouth. It was only after a few times that Joel managed to imitate you, you smiled gently seeing it. Dark eyes stared at you with fear, but also hope. You were his focus, you helped him be here and now, you helped him survive this.

"Does something hurt you?" you asked with fear, but Joel shook his head "That's good. We'll deal with this too, right?"

One of your hands found his. He didn't know how, but his fingers loosened and a moment later intertwined with yours. The thought that he was squeezing you too hard, that he was about to break the bones in your hand, flashed through his mind, but you didn't even wince. You were still breathing together, your hand still tenderly touching his cheek.

Finally, Joel closed his eyelids. For a moment, the sight of his long eyelashes touched you and you thought that it was so stupid to pay attention to it at a time like this.

You saw that he was already breathing more or less normally, but he didn't let go of your hand. He was leaning so close to you that you finally took one more step so that he rested his forehead against yours.

"It's okay." You said quietly, your thumb stroking his stubbled cheek. "We're fine. We're safe. You can let go. Breathe, Joel..."

"You're here." He whispered, and you smiled weakly.

"Of course I am. And you're here with me too."

For the next few minutes, you breathed together, not saying anything, not making any gestures. Only then did you realize that the party was still going on, the music was playing and people's laughter reached your ears. However, at that moment, only he mattered.

"Thank you." His voice was slightly shaky, but clear.

You pulled away from him and looked into his tired face. "You have nothing to thank me for, Joel. You would do the same for me."

He nodded and straightened up, looking around as if he had suddenly woken up from a long sleep. He was still holding your hand, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to let go of you. You were his anchor.

"Come on, I'll take you home." You declared after a moment, seeing that he was already in better shape. "You should go to bed."

Joel nodded again, probably not having the strength to argue. So you led him slowly down the street towards your house. The night was pleasant, but you hadn't gone far when his hoarse voice rang out.

"You don't have to come with me. You can go back to the hall and dance some more, you had such a good time there."

"I've danced enough already." you replied "Besides, I'm taking home the hottest guy at this party, so I guess I'm the winner, huh?" your shoulder bounced off his and you saw Joel shake his head, smiling.

"I'll dance with you next time, I promise," he murmured.

"I'll take you at your word, Miller."

His fingers twitched slightly, but you didn't let go of his hand until you were inside the house.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Letting Someone Go - Part 5 (The End!)

Benny Cross X Female Reader part 1 is here! part 2 is here! part 3 is here! part 4 is here! A/n: ahhh it's always so hard to write a satisfying ending. i rlly hope you enjoy it, and i want to thank everyone for reading this series!! i am officially taking Bikeriders requests, so if this story got your mind thinking about what other Benny/Vandals boys content you'd like, feel free to send it my way! Word Count: 3683 Warnings: none for this chapter

You woke up the next morning with a split lip, a black eye, and a hangover. Before even opening your eyes, you knew you were back at Zipco’s house based on the strong Patchouli-incense-over-bourbon smell. Not on the lumpy couch though - you were in his bed. You opened one eye and instantly regretted it: the world started to spin and you barely managed to grab at the wastebasket someone had left by the bedside before you emptied your stomach. You wretched until there was nothing left to come up, just bile and bloody spit. Unwilling to test your vertigo by standing up and walking down the hall to the bathroom, you called out for Zipco in a watery-thin rasp.

“Zip?” 

Silence. It seemed like the house was empty. Zipco was many things, but a quiet housemate was not among them. Wherever he went, he was slamming doors, knocking furniture, thumping on the rickety floorboards. 

“Zip ain’t here.”

The voice startled you and you whipped your head around - another immediate regret, as it renewed your nausea. Benny was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, smoking a cigarette and watching you closely. He must have slept here, you realized, as you took in the wrinkled tshirt stained with your mascara and blood and his mussed hair. 

“Where’s Zip?” you groaned, shutting your eyes in a vain attempt to stop the spinning. 

Benny stood up and walked out of the bedroom as he called back to you. “He took Kathy home. I asked him to stay with her for the night, keep an eye on things.”

Kathy. Last night. The memory of that awful night came back to you hard and with a vengeance. You whimpered, pressing your face down on the pillow as if you could blot it out. From down the hall, you heard the sound of Benny rummaging around in the kitchen for a few moments. You willed yourself to focus on that noise and breathe deeply through your nose and out through your mouth. 

You felt the mattress give under his weight as he came back and perched on the edge of the bed. “Here.” He handed you a bag of ice, coaxing you to lift your head and place the ice against your swollen lip. He brushed back strands of your hair out of your face with a tenderness you’d never seen from him before. 

“Thank you,” you croaked, voice cracking. “For last night. Helping me. For everything.” 

He nodded softly and offered you a cup of water. “Try to drink it,” he encouraged. You obeyed, wincing at the bad taste in your mouth and the soreness in your throat as you swallowed. The water settled in your stomach with a cooling rush, and it helped lessen your headache marginally. Benny just kept sitting there, fussing over you like a nursemaid. It was achingly touching, but surprising and strangely intimate. After a few moments, you cleared your throat and forced yourself to sit upright, moving slowly and deliberately so as not to set off the spins again. He helped you prop yourself up against the headboard, one of Zip’s pillows tucked at the small of your back.

“How’s Kathy?” Why you asked that question was anyone’s guess. You were grasping at straws, overwhelmed by Benny’s presence and his assiduous attention to you. You couldn’t care less how Kathy was doing, and you knew you were risking the moment between you two - whatever it was - by bringing her up. 

Predictably, Benny’s face crumpled from concern to something harder. He held your gaze with a wary seriousness. “You really wanna know how my wife is right now?” 

Wife. 

You pursed your lips - bad move, you felt the split open up and fresh blood coat your tongue - and looked down at the water glass in your hand so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes. You hadn’t known Kathy was that to him. You’d never really considered the possibility. Four years is a hell of a long time, a reprimanding voice in your head reminded you. What did you expect?

Why didn’t the guys tell you? A flash of anger at Zipco and Cal and Johnny flared in your chest. It was irrational, you knew, and a displacement of your real pain. The anger fizzled out as quickly as it had come up, leaving you alone with a sinking grief. 

Benny must have noticed your reaction. “You didn’t know.” Not a question, an observation. One he must have suspected because you heard the sound of confirmation in his voice. His words didn’t sound unkind, although there was an edge of pity there that you hated. Unable to meet his eyes, you simply shook your head. 

“I figured one of the guys told you.” 

“Yea, I would’ve figured that too.” 

You ran a finger along the lip of the water glass. Anything for a distraction. A thick silence that threatened to bloom into something permanent settled between you. 

“Congrats,” you managed with a small, bitter laugh. “How long?”

Benny turned away from you, bracing his hands on his knees and looking at the wall. “Y/n, don’t do this.”

“Do what?” you demanded, embarrassment staining your cheeks. Not only had he just dropped this hundred pound disappointment on you, but now he expected you not to struggle with its weight?

“Hurt yourself,” he replied sadly, turning back to you. His eyes drank you in and caused your breath to tangle in your throat. Once again, you couldn’t hold his gaze, and let your eyes drop to your hands. You knocked that one set of your knuckles were scraped and bruised, and a snippet of memory - men dragging you up a stairwell, you thrashing against them and screaming out for help - smacked you like a freight train. The sob that bubbled in your lungs refused to be stifled. 

At the sound of it, Benny stiffened. “I’m sorry. I should’ve left. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I’ll go, send Zip back over.” 

You looked back up at him and found you could look through him. Talking to the wall behind Benny, you felt your mouth moving as words came pouring out before you fully knew what you wanted to say. “Aight then, Benny, you best get your stuff and get out, then.”

It was the exact same line you’d said to him four years ago when he’d made you tell yourself that he was in love with someone else. Unlike then, this time your words dripped with poison. 

He flinched slightly at your words, and you figured that was about as much as you could hope for. Benny Cross was many things, but he would never be the kind of guy who would collapse for a woman. Especially not one that he didn’t love. 

For a heartbeat or two, he looked at you while you looked through him. It was a test. Who would break first. Both of you knew the answer. Benny was incapable of breaking. You’d been craving that from him for too long and had been disappointed too many times before to delude yourself now. Benny was going to leave, exactly like you’d told him to. He wasn’t going to argue, or apologize, or ask why you were angry, or stubbornly ignore your dismissal in an attempt to get through to you. He was going to leave because that’s what he did. Although not with Kathy, that vicious inner voice reminded you. Just you. 

Right on cue, Benny broke eye contact, hesitating momentarily before standing up from the edge of the bed. Your eyes followed him as he walked over to the chair he’d been sitting in, picked up his leather jacket and threw it on over his shoulders. The icy shell around your heart threatened to thaw as the realization that this might be the last moment you ever saw him overtook you. 

He moved to leave without looking back to you, although he did stop at the door.

“Why’d you come back?” he asked, his voice low and full of something approaching emotion. 

“For Brucie’s funeral,” you replied robotically. 

You both knew it was a lie. Benny waited, turning slightly so his body was angled towards you, but still not looking up at you. 

“What do you want me to say, Benny? That I came back for you? That I stayed away for so long because of you? You already know all that shit.”

He fidgeted with his leather riding gloves methodically, tucking them into the sleeves of his jacket. You’d never known Benny to care about stuff like that. You had the fleeting thought that he was stalling against what you both sensed would be your last goodbye. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled heavily. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

And with that, Benny vanished once again from your life, leaving behind that all too familiar ache like a gaping hole in your chest. 

***********************

Benny was riding back to Kathy’s apartment when he realized that he didn’t want to. The last thing he wanted was to get an earful from Kathy, although he knew precisely that’s what was waiting for him. An earful for getting involved in another fight over the club, for getting involved with you, and for leaving her behind. He deserved it, but he didn’t want it.

He also didn’t want to turn around and back towards the girl he’d just left, with her face busted up and her spirit broken. All because she’d come back hoping for something from him. All she was going to get was disappointment. That’s all Benny had for anybody else. He’d disappointed Kathy by not being a good husband. He’d disappointed Johnny by not being a good Vandal, not being willing to take over the charter. And he’d disappointed y/n simply by not being good. Most of all, Benny was his own biggest disappointment. He realized, sitting on the back of his bike idling at a light that had long ago turned from red to green, that he wasn’t sure what he’d imagined for his life, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. It wasn’t watching the people around you get hurt, time and time again, all behind your own failures. 

So, instead of turning left on 53rd St. to head home, Benny kept going straight on 55th until it linked up with Rte 34 in Naperville. He gassed up in Wyanet and didn’t stop until he hit the Nebraska line. Benny rode west until he got tired of staring at sunsets, and then turned north, meandering up into colder country. 

Epilogue

At first, the running theory about what happened was that one of the guys from the night before had found Benny, somehow, on the way back from Zipco’s place and jumped him. Beat the shit out of him, took his bike, dumped him on the side of a road somewhere. Maybe even killed him. But, as weeks turned into months without any news and without a body, a different understanding took hold: Benny Cross had simply left. 

Kathy stuck around but drifted steadily further away from the MC. She stopped showing up to Junker’s on Friday nights, stopped hanging out at the Vandals’ house parties, stopped asking Johnny if he’d heard from Benny. You saw her a few times in the years after Benny left, usually at the laundromat or the corner store, somewhere neutral. She never acknowledged you, and you figured that was probably the smart thing to do. There weren’t any words the two of you could exchange that would do anything for either of you. Better just to let sleeping dogs lie. At some point, you saw Kathy Cross for the last time, although you didn’t know it would be the last. Word reached the MC that she’d met some wealthy Cincinnati lawyer in a pop shop and had moved in with him a few weeks later, into some swanky highrise overlooking the Ohio River. You had a suspicion that Kathy’s days of logging time on the back of a bike were over. 

While Kathy exited the Vandals’ scene, you found yourself quickly at the center of the club. You and Zipco decided after a few months that you made great friends, but shit roommates. You moved into your own place a few blocks down from Junker’s and opened a body shop for bikes with the money your daddy left you in the will. Your first employee was Cal, and your first customer was Johnny. From that day forward, the Vandals MC kept your business buzzing and your books balanced. You named the shop Cross Roads Bikes. Customers who didn’t know you asked why “cross roads” was two separate words; usually, you just told them that you’d been drunk when you filled out the business license application and had put a space in there by accident. Customers who knew you didn’t need to ask what happened. 

In spite of that, somewhere along the way you woke up one day and realized that this was the closest you’d been to happy in a long long time, maybe ever. It struck you as strange, because since the day you’d met him, you’d only seen happiness as part of your future if Benny was in it. Yet, here you were: happy (ish) and Benny-less. Funny how the world works.  

You didn’t know why Benny took off or where he’d gone, but you did know one thing: Benny broke three hearts the day he left McCook. Johnny took Benny’s absence harder than the woman who married him and the woman who loved him. Johnny changed the day Benny left. He seemed to age two days for every one that passed. His laughter dried up and his leadership got sour. Between Cal, Zipco, and a few of the other old guard, the Vandals held themselves together, but everyone could see that the winds of change were brewing, and the MC was on the edge of a permanent change. All that was left to do was to hold your breath and wait.

You were with Johnny Davis the day he died. You remembered the way that young kid had shot him, point blank, in some old abandoned parking lot on the western edge of town. All the light was gone from Johnny’s eyes by the time you reached him. The Vandals you knew died with him in that weedy parking lot that night. 

Zipco left about a month later for Texas. He sent you a few postcards, called you a couple times. After a while, there wasn’t anything left to say. You never stopped sending him his favorite bottle of bourbon at Christmas. Every once in a while, a customer would come in from out of town and tell you that your shop was personally recommended to them by a drunk, grouchy old Latvian who worked on a shrimping boat outside of Corpus Christi. 

One by one, the new Vandals stopped coming into your shop for their repairs and tune-ups. That was fine with you. You didn’t recognize any of the newcomers, and you doubted they recognized you, apart from vague memories of seeing you drinking and laughing in Junker’s next to the guys that they considered to be the past. Cross Roads Bikes was about four years old at that point, and you’d built enough of a non-MC customer base to survive the turnover. The day Cal came in and told you he’d turned in his patch and was planning to head back out to California, you knew that your last tie with the club had been cut. In some ways, it was relieving, in other ways, terrifying. You and Cal got shitfaced together that night and told old war stories about all the guys you’d known and lost. You cried like a baby when, two weeks later, you were standing on the sidewalk, watching Cal’s taillight fade into the Illinois dark as he headed out to the West Coast for the next chapter of his life. 

Much to your surprise, it was Sheila and Becky, Johnny’s widow, who became your new club. They took to bringing you sandwiches at the shop and sitting on the counter with you for lunch breaks, telling the did you hear? kind of stories that bond people with a loose circle of mutual acquaintances together. It was easy and fun and all three of you seemed to know that this was it. If you all let yourselves drift away, who was going to tell stories about the guys you’d all known? About the Vandals’ early days, the glory days? You three were all that was left. Ironic, you thought. A men’s club, survived by three women. 

Your life fell into a pattern. Productive, purposeful, content with little stains of sadness at the edges. But mostly, a good life. You were happy, and getting used to it every day. At some point, your life became predictable.

That’s why, one crisp fall morning as you stumbled out of bed at 6:00am to the waiting pot of Zipco-strong coffee and the stack of yesterday’s mail on the counter, the last thing you were expecting to see was the outline of a man sitting on your front porch steps. The black leather jacket with an original Vandals patch on the back, the Harley parked across the street, the tousled blonde hair. It was a ghost of a memory. 

You opened the front door a crack and looked down on the profile of Benny Cross. He was looking up at the neon Cross Roads Bike sign that Johnny and the rest of the club had gifted to you for your one-year anniversary at the shop. When he looked up at you with those same old blue eyes, it was like stepping into a dream.

“Hey.”

You closed the door behind you, offering him your mug of coffee as you wrapped your robe around you against the chill. “Hey.”

He scooched over to make room for you to join him. You did, tucking your knees up against your chest for warmth. The cold concrete of your porch steps bit into your backside. 

“Looks good,” Benny commented softly, gesturing up at the Cross Roads sign. The text was superimposed over an image of a motorcycle - an all-black 1965 Harley Electra-Glide, to be exact. The same bike that happened to be sitting across the street from you, where Benny had parked it. 

“Yea, yea,” you agreed gently, looking up at the sign with a sad smile. “Hope you don’t mind, I stole your bike. And your name.” 

When you looked back at Benny, a half-smirk was spreading across his face. He looked the same, although you could see that the road had been riding him just as much as the other way around. You knew that life. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while, sharing the same cup of coffee and a cigarette, letting the sun rise above the rooftops across the street. It was a comfortable, companionable quiet. It was the first time since you’d met Benny that you didn’t have the burning desire to try and put your feelings into words. After almost ten years of your heart orbiting his, you realized in the cold November morning that you had finally learned how to let him go. It was a bittersweet feeling, and you knew you’d never be able to put it into words, even if you tried. So the two of you were quiet together. 

When the city began to wake up around you and the demands of another day couldn’t be ignored any longer, you rose from your seat - cursing the way the cold made your hips stiff - and offered him a hand to help him up. He took it, thick calluses on his palm from years of riding. He stood up, still tall enough to tower over you, his jacket thick with the smell of the road - leather, diesel fuel, sweat, and cigarettes. 

“How long you in town for?” you asked as you held the door open for him behind you. He followed you in, kicking off his dirty boots at the door. 

“Not sure,” he replied with a note of nervousness. “Depends on how long you’ll let me stay.”

You smiled to yourself, your back turned to him as you refilled your coffee mug and poured a fresh one for him. 

“I got plenty of room, and plenty of work for ya, Benny. Long as you promise that you won’t leave without sayin’ goodbye this time.” He accepted the coffee in your outstretched hand with a heartbreakers’ smile. 

“Funny you mention it. I hadn’t planned on leavin’ this time.” He looked at you with a question in his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure what the question was. Do you forgive me? Is this ok? Are you alright? Did you miss me?

Whatever he was asking, your answer was yes. A very simple word, and easily one you could have said. But, just like moments before, you found that words just wouldn’t suffice, even such a simple one. 

So you crossed the kitchen, dropping your coffee mug and letting it splinter into pieces on the tile floor, splashing hot coffee on your ankles, and wrapped your arms around him. Benny’s mouth tasted exactly how you remembered, and when he folded his arms around you, you swore your feet no longer touched the ground. He was warm and strong against you, and for every question he pressed through that kiss into your lips, you answered with an enthusiastic yes. 

As you floated away into the sky towards what you’d heard others call “cloud nine” from your kitchen, the rest of the words of that old poem came drifting back to you:

Of all the things that can create, love is the one I most appreciate.

One thing I’ve come to know, nothing kills you slower than letting someone go.

But I will also tell you this, coming back to life can happen in the space of a single kiss.

***********************

Taglist: @real-lana-del-rey @putherup @dontcrydaddy @gilli-vanilli @faephoria @summer56 @seresinhangmanjake @patrycqv @rose-deathman @bellesdreamyprofile @imusicaddict @bruher @ripvanwinklee @meninecanela @enchantedinfinity @landlockedmermaid77 @nctma15 @hearts444emily @kajasagmo @1800imgay @oh-you-mean-me @allie-jay @suspicious-stain-in-spain

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 12

Moniker: König Risk Level: Medium. König is a permanent resident of the Kennel. Brief: Mommy kink, breast worship Safeword: Refer to first brief. König is intimidating but will be more strange than dangerous when it comes to you, but I am watching and will be right there if you need me. We have König’s partner on standby if we need him to intervene and calm him down - Price

“Please mütterlein” the man in your lap begged as he pathetically pawed at your chest.

He was fucking massive, his head and shoulders already incredibly heavy on your thighs even with the rest of him laid out on the sofa. His auburn hair was tied back in small bun and you stroked at his head while he whined up at you with big, begging eyes.

It was very strange how he seem so submissive in every single way, but dominance was rolling off of him in waves regardless. He may have sounded like he was begging, but you knew a command when you heard one.

“Of course baby, mommy would never want you to go without” you said, swallowing back a nervous, manic giggle when his huge hand pulled your top down, bra cups with it.

There was no appraisal of your tits, no time taken for little kisses or testing squeezes. He latched on to one immediately, moaning lewdly and suckling. The other he clumsily took in his hand and played with.

No, not playing. Massaging. Milking.

“Mama, I love you so much” he whimpered, the words muffled as he refused to take his mouth from your nipple to say them. “I’ve been starving for you.”

Overwhelmed is what you were. Sure Nikto had fucked the blood of a man he tortured in front of you into your ass while you were on top of said tortured man, but somehow this was putting you way more on edge. This adoring giant in your lap sucking desperately at your tit felt pitifully fragile, like one wrong move could shatter him and in his place a monster would emerge.

“Oh baby, mommy is sorry she left you for so long. It was mean wasn’t it?”

“Mean” he repeated, drooling all over you as he switched to the other nipple.

The one he had suckled at already was soaked and swollen, but he was getting more and more desperate now.

“A-ah! No teeth baby” you winched when his hard sucking turned into his teeth latching to your nipple and tugging.

He pulled back, his teeth still latched so you had to bite back a scream at your abused nipple being pulled obscenely far away from your tit before he finally let it go.

“Please don’t be angry with me mama” he said, pathetic and ashamed. “I’ve missed your teats in my mouth so much, please do not be angry.”

He crushed his arms around you and buried his face in your tits as he quietly wailed, his shoulders shuddering. You wrapped your arms around his head and stroked his hair, shushing him.

“Shh, shh baby. It’s ok, mommy isn’t mad at you. She’d never be mad with her good boy would she? Her best boy?”

He tongued warm and wet between your tits, and used his hand to crush his head between the fat of them, fingers sinking in to the sensitive flesh. The plain pleasure pressure of it made you feel strange, body wildly confused about what it should be feeling.

He moaned and planted disgustingly wet kisses across your skin, making his way back to the nipple he hadn’t bitten and sucking hard.

“So warm, love mütter’s milk” he whimpered as he went to work drooling and then sucking so he was drinking back his own saliva, warmed by your breasts and his mouth.

You glanced to the rest of his big body, confirming that the dull thumping you were hearing was from him humping at one of the pillows as he suckled you.

“There you go baby, you drink from mama all you like.”

“Have to milk mama, can I please? Please mama?” he begged as he cried softly at your tit, mouthing at it now rather than properly latching.

“Go ahead baby.”

He muffled his keening moan back between you breasts, humping himself to completion inside his pants, milking his cock using the pillow. Fuck he was pitiful.

He didn’t stop, just kept whining and alternatively suckling your nipples or just mouthing at your soft tits even as you thought the cooling cum in his pants must be horribly uncomfortable. He kept going until your tits felt numb and you just kept petting his hair and cooing soft praises at him.

Eventually he fell asleep, his mouth still latched and sucking. You didn’t want to wake him even if his weight was starting to make your legs ache. The door opened and a man you hadn’t met walked in. He gave you a nod and then gently extracted König’s mouth from you. The big man grumbled, but once he peeked his eyes open and saw who was there he allowed himself to be groggily led away.

Price came in as they left, giving you a grimacing sort of smile.

“I did tell you he was strange.”

“Yeah, and you did dress me up as a 1950s housewife and have me bake you sourdough so…”

“…yeah fair enough. Fancy dinner?”

“You’re buying.”

“I’m buying.”

[oaksgrove]

Hi, Girly!!! (finally another brazillian)

I've seen your post about reader who plans everything and I simply though "John Price x Reader with Autism".

-🐻✨

Hi 🐻✨nonnie, it’s so good to find another Brazilian here! I hope you like it, I gave my best to write it without being too stereotypical 🫶

Steady as Ever

Pairing: John Price x Autistic!Reader

Synopsis: John Price understands how important structure and routine are to you. He does his best to keep things predictable—because predictability is safety, stability, and comfort. But when an unexpected delay throws off your carefully planned evening, anxiety creeps in. John, ever patient and steady, does what he always does: helps you find your way back to calm.

Warnings: Anxiety, sensory overload, disruption of routine, but ultimately soft and comforting moments.

Word count: 818

John Price knew how important routine was to you. He had learned, over time, that structure wasn’t just a preference—it was safety, comfort, and stability. So he made sure to keep things as predictable as possible, especially when he was home.

Every morning started the same way: he’d wake up first, let you have your quiet time before speaking, make you a cup of tea just the way you liked it, and sit with you at the kitchen table while you read the news or organized your schedule. Evenings were for unwinding together—dinner at the same time, watching a familiar show, and then getting ready for bed in the order you always did.

But life had a way of throwing curveballs.

Tonight was one of those nights.

A last-minute mission had delayed John. You had prepared dinner like always, expecting to hear his key in the door at exactly 19:00. But 19:00 came and went. Then 19:30. By 20:00, the food had gone cold, your chest felt tight, and the familiar itch of unease crawled under your skin. Your carefully structured world had been knocked off balance.

When the front door finally opened at 20:17, you were standing in the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself, rocking slightly on your feet.

John immediately took one look at you and knew.

He shut the door softly, setting his bag down before approaching, slow and careful. “I’m home, love.”

You nodded, but your breathing was shallow. Your thoughts were too loud, spiraling in frustration and uncertainty. The plan had been broken. Your routine had been disrupted.

John reached for you but didn’t touch, waiting for permission. “Tell me what you need.” His voice was steady, warm.

You swallowed, fingers twitching. “Everything feels… wrong.”

“Alright,” he murmured. “We’ll make it right again.”

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. John took that as his cue and guided you gently to the couch, sitting beside you. He handed you a weighted blanket—one he had bought after noticing how much pressure calmed you down.

“You’re safe,” he reminded you, tucking it around your shoulders. “I know tonight didn’t go as planned, but I’m here now. We’ll reset.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on his words, the evenness of his breathing, the warmth of his hand resting on yours. He didn’t rush you, didn’t tell you to ‘get over it’ like others had before. He just stayed. Present. Steady.

After a long moment, you exhaled. “You’re late,” you murmured, but there was no anger in your voice. Just the remnants of stress beginning to fade.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll try to warn you next time.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But you did good. You got through it.”

You leaned into him, tension finally draining. “Yeah. I did.”

And with John Price beside you, you always would.

John didn’t let go of your hand, not even when the worst of the storm inside you had passed. He kept his fingers wrapped around yours, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles against your skin. A quiet, grounding presence.

“I kept dinner warm,” you murmured after a long stretch of silence.

His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle. “Did you now?”

You nodded, shifting beneath the weight of the blanket. “It’s part of the plan.”

“Of course it is.” He pressed another kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment. “Think you’re up for eating together?”

You thought about it. The idea of standing up, of moving, still felt overwhelming, but… John made things easier.

“…If you help me reheat it.”

“Deal.”

He stood, pulling you up with him, but didn’t let go of your hand. Not as you walked into the kitchen together, not as he opened the fridge and pulled out the plates you had so carefully set aside.

As he worked, you leaned against the counter, watching him. He was always so gentle with you, even when his hands were rough and calloused from years of work. He always made space for you, never expecting you to change for him—only adjusting himself to meet your needs.

You took a slow breath, chest loosening. “Thank you,” you whispered.

John glanced up, soft smile tugging at his lips. “For what, love?”

“For knowing how to put me back together when things fall apart.”

His expression melted into something even warmer, deeper. He set down the plate, closed the distance between you, and cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his touch firm but careful.

“Always,” he promised. “You’re my home, sweetheart. I’ll always make sure you’re safe.”

You let yourself rest against him, let yourself believe him. Because if there was anyone who would always be steady, always be there to help you find your way back to comfort, it was John Price.

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