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himbodruid · 2 days ago

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Ancient Instinct

Sylus x Reader

-:-breeding kink -:- Sylus loses control -:- consent king -:- primal, carnal, frenzied -:-

Present timeline mirror to A Dragon in Rut

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI.

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“Hey…there’s something wrong with the boss.” Kieran’s voice was filled with concern, enough that you knew it wasn’t some weird ploy by Sylus to get you to visit. Plus, Luke was usually the one that called if Sylus wanted to casually bully you into visiting.

Your phone dinged and you quickly pulled it from your ear to view the message. It was a photo from Luke, showing the destruction of the front room of the base. Furniture was smashed, paintings torn from the wall, and other various decorations thrown about. The brandy decanter that’d been on a side table laid shattered on the ground, along with the two glasses that typically accompanied it.

“Kieran, what the fuck happened?” Worry sank into you as your eyes darted over the photo, hoping you wouldn’t find blood. There weren't really any signs of a struggle, just aimless chaos.

“We don’t know, we thought you might. He came home last night in a scary good mood and then halfway through the night, he just started wrecking the place.”

“We just had dinner and took a walk around the park, there wasn’t anything unusual about anything.” You tried thinking over the night and still couldn’t come up with an answer. “Where is he now?”

“He’s holed up in his room now, but we’re leaving. Before this temper tantrum, he asked us to go pick something up so there won't be anyone here.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Kieran’s voice, as though the twins were reluctant to leave Sylus in the state he was in.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I just got home from work, so I’ll be there in a bit to see if I can talk some sense into him.”

The call disconnected and you hastily packed a bag for an overnight stay in the N109 Zone. You were out the door and on your motorbike in a matter of minutes, speeding through the darkening streets to get to him as quickly as you could.

When you arrived, the house was eerily quiet. There was almost always something from Sylus’s collection of vinyls playing, the sound filtering through the halls from deep within the façade, but not tonight. It was dark, too. Not a single fireplace or lamp was lit. For all intents and purposes, the house was empty. But still you cautiously pressed onward.

“Sylus?” Your voice echoed in the house as you stepped gingerly over the debris, the light of your phone guiding your way. You made your way to his bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Sylus?” You called again when you cracked the door open. A single dim lamp let you see that the room was in similar disarray to the rest of the house. Still, there was no response, and you thought that maybe he’d left.

A feral-sounding growl emanated from the room. It didn’t sound human at all, and you wished you’d brought your weapon. Was all of the destruction the result of a wanderer? Your watch didn’t detect anything but-

“Leave.” Sylus’s voice was strained and…off. Instead of the usual gravel, there was a hint of something more, something beastly. You had heard stories of people turning into wanderers…was it possible that Sylus was a victim to this anomaly?

“Sy, is everything okay?” You dropped into his nickname out of habit, hoping that whatever had taken over his mind would recognize it.

“If you know what’s best for you, Kitten, you will leave right now.” His words echoed in your head, something familiar about them and this situation. You had brief flashes of tapestries and a cave before your mind returned to the present.

“Sy, are you hurt? The twins called me,” you said calmly, stepping further. You still couldn’t see him, but you could hear his ragged breathing coming from deeper in the room.

You had just cleared the archway that separated the sittig area from the sleeping space when you were pushed roughly against the wall. The side table holding the lamp teetered violently before falling over and taking the lamp with it, shattering the bulb. In the brief seconds the light was on him, you could see that Sylus’s pupils were blown wide and his face was flush. In the newfound darkness, his hot breath fanned across your neck in a series of shaky pants.

“Sylus, please. Tell me what’s wrong, you’re worrying me,” you say, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He made a sound like a barely restrained groan as he turned his face into your touch, inhaling deeply. He pressed his lips against your fingers, your palm, your wrist. You were certain that if he’d had a tail, it would be lashing about in agitation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “I don’t think I can be very accommodating or gentle right now, Kitten.”

His warning rolled off him, and yet he still pressed further into you. He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply and his lips trailed your pulse.

“S-Sy,” you gasped as his teeth scraped against your skin, in a spot that held an echo of an ache that no longer existed. Worry was very quickly being replaced with something else, something that pooled deep in your core.

“Mmh,” he purred, nuzzling his face against your neck again. “Your scent…steamy and sweet, like cherry wine. It’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Sylus, what-“ your question was cut off when he slanted his mouth across yours. All thoughts escaped you as he consumed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth the moment you opened for him. Worry and doubt fled from you and every sense was filled with him. You’d even forgotten why you arrived at the base in the first place as he hoisted you up against the wall. Your legs hitched up to wrap around his waist and your arms folded around his broad shoulders. He growled in approval, still devouring you as he pressed impossibly close. You could feel him standing at attention, hard and ready, and you wondered how long he’d been in that condition.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips.

“Well, I am here. What’s going on with you, you’re worrying me.” You had to tug at his hair to get him to back off just the slightest bit. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, his face was too far cast in shadows. He was definitely still Sylus, though- you didn’t see any signs of him transforming into a monster. Just the raging hardon that was pressed against your core.

“Kitten,” he whined, dropping his head against your shoulder. His breathing was ragged, sharp inhales let go as shaky exhales. “This need I feel…it’s like I crave you on some primal level.”

He groaned when you tugged at his hair again, just a gentle pull to guide his mouth back to yours. His chest rumbled in what felt like a purr, the vibrations rolling through you to gather at your already wanting core. You gave your silent consent to him by pulling him closer, devouring his mouth in equal fervor. You gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth and his entire body shuddered.

“You should-” lips found your leaping pulse.

“Run away-“ his teeth scraped the slope of your neck.

“While you still can-“ he latched onto your collarbone, sucking at the spot with a hard draw to create a mark there. You gasped and squirmed as best you could while crushed against the wall by his bulk. The action ground your core against his length and he groaned when he released you from his mouth.

“Take me,” you breathed into him. “Use me. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

He groaned again and hauled you against him, pulling away from the wall to stumble blindly to his bed. There he dropped you onto the mattress, bathing you in the pale lights of the city filtering in from the window. His eyes were still cast in shadow, but you could still see the desire that darkened his expression. He was silent, save for the sound of his heavy breaths, as his hand stroked from calf to hip. Heat blazed from his touch, sinking through the fabric of the leggings you wore.

“Last chance, Kitten,” he growled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Hands rested at your hip, teasing the waistband in silent question. Though you had already given explicit consent, he waited.

Rather than voicing your answer, and rather than giving in to what he so very clearly wanted, your hands found the collar of his shirt. With slow precision, you unbuttoned his shirt while keeping your eyes locked on his. His breath came in shuddering bursts, his body trembling as you teased him. It was a cruel test of his control, even knowing how close he was to snapping. But you couldn’t help yourself. There was something about seeing carnal desire written in every feature, in every motion, that made you want to take advantage of it.

A sharp inhale, followed by a shuddered exhale when your hand trailed down his newly exposed chest in a tantalizing sweep. He caught your hand before it could trail too far down his abdomen, bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across your knuckles, and another at your wrist.

And then his lips found yours in a searing kiss to seal your agreement. There was nothing short of passion in the way he devoured you, the way he coaxed you open to tangle his tongue with yours. The heat of his mouth trailed along your jaw, down your neck, searing into any exposed skin he could access until he was stopped my the lapel of the button down shirt you wore. Without warning, he grasped the overlapped edges at the front and ripped your shirt wide open. Buttons flew in every direction and all you could do was muffle your moan with a gasp. Because damn, that show of strength was not one you expected to be so hot. You didn’t even care about the loss of the shirt, you wanted him to do it again.

With the obstruction out of his way, Sylus continued the forge a blazing trail of kisses down your body. The bandeau you wore as a bra was shoved down so that he could swirl his tongue around one nipple and then the other. Soft bites to the undersides of your breasts as he continued downward elicited a sharp inhaled gasp from you. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings at each hip and then tugged, removing them and your underwear in one swift motion. Shyness coursed through you when you were finally fully bared to him, but you didn’t fight him when he held your legs in place, spread for him, so he could rake his eyes up and down you.

His lips found the inside of your knee, teeth finding your thigh, and then his face was dangerously close to your core. You swore you could see his eye flash a quick glow, but the next moments pushed all thoughts and reason from your head.

“I’ll start with your warmest spot…” he murmured against your skin. And then he dipped his head further, his breath fanning against your slick folds. “And until I’m finished, you’re not allowed to stop me.”

And then he descended, overwhelming your cunt with precise strokes of his tongue. You tried to twist away from him, crying out in pleasure, but he held you fast. His gaze bored into you, even as your hands sunk into the silky strands of his hair. He worked you until you were right on the precipice, but then pulled away with a devilish grin before you could crash over the other side. You whined at his unfair treatment until he set about removing his own clothing. Your own gaze devoured him the more he exposed of himself, and fuck he was perfect in every way.

He crawled languidly up your body and settled over you, reclaiming your mouth in a hard, punishing kiss. His knee wedged between yours, pushing and coaxing until you had enough thinking power to wrap yourself around him. This put the head of his cock right at your entrance, and you strained your hips towards him in a desperate bid for penetration. A dark chuckle escaped him when he realized what you were attempting.

“All mine,” he growled. Your knee was hooked over his elbow, one at first and then both as the kiss progressed to a carnal need. You were open fully to him now, and all that was left was for him to take that plunge.

And fuck, did he ever.

His hips snapped forward without hesitation, not even affording you the time to adjust to his girth and length. Not that it was necessary, not when he glided into you easily on the slickness of your arousal. He slammed against you, sinking into you to the hilt, and you couldn’t help the pleasured sound that escaped you. You folded your arms around his shoulders, nails biting into his skin when he tried to pull back. He didn’t get far before his hips jerked forward again, almost off their own accord.

It was as though there was some primal instinct that drove him into you so impossibly deep. You couldn’t understand where it came from, but fuck it felt good. The sensations of his cock slamming into you paired with the guttural moans erupting from him brought you back to that precipice rapidly. So rapidly that you barely had a moment's notice before you came apart around him. Pleasure zipped up your spine, turning your mind blank. All you could do was arch beneath him, crying out his name even as he continued to plunder your body.

He so easily folded you in half and set a pace that was bordering on punishing. What little control he could claim to have had in this moment was gone as he rutted into you. The sounds of your bodies colliding over and over rose to join your pleasured cries and his own grunting moans. You were glad the base had emptied due to his tantrum, because it would be very obvious what was happening should anyone step on the floor landing. Hell, even floors below could probably hear your loud, frenzied mating.

Feeling bold, maybe even mischievous, you lifted your mouth to the jumping pulse at his neck and scraped your teeth against it. Sylus let out a shaky, breathy moan and tilted his head away to grant you more access. With a grin, you bit down on that corded muscle that made up the slope of his neck.

His head fell against your chest with a deep moan, slamming his hips into you hard. Your bite turned into sucking on his neck, raising a mark to show your claim on him to anyone who would dare to look. And he also latched his mouth to your skin, drawing out the same kind of mark.

With a growl, he released your neck to observe the purpling mark he made. His gaze darted to yours, locking eyes with you as his thrusts increased to a breakneck pace. Pleasured expressions flitted across your face and you were almost certain that’s what he was looking for. And then you were arching into him again, crying out his name as your walls pulsed around him. The edge he had been chasing came and went, and he spilled into you with a guttural cry of his own. His hips jerked and slammed into you, his cock twitching as you milked him for everything he had.

He kissed you feverishly, and even as you came down from the high of release, he was still impossibly hard inside you. He rocked into you with small thrusts and you could feel his heart hammering beneath your touch.

“Fuck, how do you feel this damn good,” he whimpered against your lips. His body crashed against yours when you whimpered his name in response, over and over as he chased another release. It came to him with a sharp snap of his hips against yours, a shudder that swept through his entire body, and then more hot ropes of cum were flooding your cunt again.

And he still somehow wasn’t done with you.

A brief respite was all that was granted before he was thrusting deep into you again. At this point, you weren't even sure where you ended and he began. You were beginning to wonder if you would be leaking his cum for days after this encounter, even moreso when he slammed into you again with a guttural, primal cry of ecstasy. This one brought you over the edge with him, the feel of his cock pulsing and twitching inside you drawing release from you without warning.

Finally, after one more orgasm ripped through both of you, Sylus slumped against you. He nuzzled into your neck, soft kisses peppering your skin as you both attempted to regain your breath. He released your legs from his pressing hold and you ran your thighs down both sides of his body, delighting in the way he shuddered again.

You were both a sweaty mess, and you were certain the sheets needed to be changed once he slipped from your body. But he took his sweet time with you, giving gentle kisses that were a stark contrast to the primal possession he just exhibited. The weight and heat of him pressing you into the mattress felt like heaven, and you made a mental note to request this kind of skinship again in the future. Maybe with a little less mess. Or maybe with more, who knows.

You complained when he removed himself from the bed, grudgingly allowing yourself to be carried by him to the bathroom. You were exhausted and couldn’t work up the energy to feel embarrassed as he cleaned you up in the shower, but you were delighted in the way his hands massaged your scalp as he washed your hair. You nearly fell asleep when he blow dried your hair, making him have to carry you back to bed. He slipped you between fresh silk sheets and climbed in behind you, trailing kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders as he wrapped himself around you.

Safe and cozy, you fell into the deepest sleep you’d ever experienced.

And when you awoke to Sylus being gone, you couldn’t help but pout. Until he pushed through the door with a tray in hand, wrapped in his favourite brocade robe. He wordlessly set the tray down in front of you, and you saw it was filled with various crackers, cheeses, and fruits.

“Consider this my apology,” he said with a chuckle as you eagerly dug into the tray. He sat next to you in bed, allowing you to feed him. He was content enough to watch you enjoy the tray, but couldn’t say no when you turned to offer him bites.

“What was that all about anyway?” You ask finally, after working up the courage to not be shy. Sylus’s brows drew down in thought.

“I’m not entirely sure, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like that before. I came home to being surrounded by your essence, your scent, and it's like a switch flipped in my head. Like I was possessed. Like some sort of primal instinct that wouldn’t leave until I had you flat on your back with my cock driving into you.”

You blushed furiously at his casual words, occupying your hands and face with more food, so that you wouldn’t put those hands and your mouth all over him in some sort of retaliation. He chuckled darkly and leaned close, inhaling deeply at your neck.

“Mmh. I think I like my scent being intertwined with yours,” he growled into your ear.

Neither of you left his bed for a while following that, and you were grateful it was your weekend.

#lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lads fic #lads smut #lads x reader #l&ds x you #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace fic

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askagamedev · 2 days ago

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Thoughts on the Bioware restructuration/lay-offs?

I've long said that any AAA game studio, no matter how strong, is always 2-3 flops in a row away from closure. Bioware did very well with Inquisition, but Mass Effect Andromeda and Anthem's sequential failures resulted in DA4 being their make-or-break release.

One factor was that 2024 was the first full year since 2012 that Bioware didn't have SWTOR on their books anymore - SWTOR went over to Broadsword in late 2023. For the past decade, all of the money earned by SWTOR (which is significant, the game isn't growing but it does more than earn its keep) was considered in Bioware's accounting. That sizable income helps offset the money being burned in other areas like ME:A, Anthem, ongoing DA4 efforts, and other internal projects (like the many failed KOTOR 3 pitches) to the accountants and executives. Without SWTOR to inject additional cash over the year, the Veilguard costs look a lot worse to the money people.

DA4 itself was a bit of a mess during development too. The development of the project that eventually became Veilguard was actually restarted at least twice - they were already working on preproduction for DA4 as of late 2015. The process was long and arduous, and the finished game was... mid? It wasn't underwhelming, it wasn't overwhelming, it was just... whelming. Veilguard also made the somewhat controversial choice to hang everything on sales and not go with post-launch DLC to help monetize further. This gamble really did not pay off. Veilguard missed its sales target by 50%, which was the third nail in the coffin. Each of these failures seems to follow the same pattern - significant dev time spent going in circles because the leadership can't commit to core elements of the game, resulting in something thrown together at the end in order to ship something.

As a result of these issues, the Sword of Damocles that dangles above every studio fell on Bioware. While Bioware remains as a label and the next Mass Effect game continues development, Bioware as a studio is no longer a stand-alone entity capable of building a full game from start to finish like it used to be. Bioware is likely no longer going to have as much of a cohesive identity like it used to - it will be a label more than anything else. If Mass Effect gets a green light for full production, they'll likely have to "borrow" a bunch of floating developers from EA's other studios to build it out, then disperse those borrowed devs to other EA projects once it ships and leave a small team to incubate the next "Bioware" project, at least until they can get two sequential big hits again and warrant a larger injection of funding to start growing again.

My heart really goes out to all of those who are affected by this - the Veilguard devs were really behind the 8 ball when they started and the current economic situation in video games isn't good. I hope that they're able to find something soon, hopefully at a studio that makes better high level leadership decisions.

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2cupids · 2 days ago

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warnings. popular!reader, oral (m. receiving), tittyfucking, tiny bit of degradation, cüm eating. mdni (17+).

wc. 1.9k… read part 1 here!

weeks had passed and a new semester had begun since that encounter with nerd!choso and it was a nearly forgotten memory in your head.

but for choso?

he thought about it everyday. it was like a driving force that helped him push through each day and he could only dream of getting so lucky again.

so the moment he saw you walking towards him as class was being dismissed, your ridiculously short skirt swaying as you moved, he knew his prayers had been answered.

“you busy? i need you to write that research paper for me.” you ask nonchalantly as you swipe the wand of your lipgloss across your bottom lip, reapplying it.

choso’s in a trance as he watches you put your gloss on your pretty lips. you were so alluring, so gorgeous. seconds pass and still no answer. you sigh and roll your eyes, looking down at choso and making contact with his bright eyes as he stares at you.

“well?” you furrow your eyebrows as your patience grows shorter and the nerdy boy has yet to answer. choso’s heart flutters at your harsh tone and he swallows the lump in his throat before he finally answers.

“n-no, i’m not busy. i could have it done by saturday.”

your hardened expression instantly softens at his words and you give him one of your sweet smiles. “good. i’ll pick it up on sunday.”

as you turn to walk away, choso stops you. “wait! um.. wh-what do i get for helping you?” choso asks quietly, averting his eyes down to look at your legs. he can’t look you in the eyes.

you turn to him, eyeing him up and down. “and who the hell are you to ask me that?” you smirk at him, but your tone is condescending. you’re offended he would even ask that. “you don’t need to worry about that, i’ll figure out it. just get my paper done.”

and with that, you’re walking up the stairs of the lecture hall and exiting the classroom. choso sits there for a moment, replaying what just happened and taking a moment to collect himself. he finally stands up and adjusts his pants, pulling his hoodie down to cover his boner before he leaves.

the days seem to pass by much slower than he would’ve liked until the long awaited day finally rolls around. choso’s mind is flooded with the multiple different scenarios that could play out, but hell, he would take anything you give him. and that’s only if you decide to pay him back for his kindness again this time.

he’s lost in thought when there’s a knock at his door and he rushes to open it, letting you in. his hands immediately reach for the paper and you quickly skim through it, slipping it inside your bag and setting it down on his desk.

“what should i do with you?..” you cross your arms and let your eyes trail down his figure before letting them rest on his face again. “i could make you put your mouth to use. i want my pussy ate, but i know someone like you doesn’t know how to eat it. and i don’t feel like teaching you either. just go sit on the bed.”

you wonder what you can do and that’s when an idea comes to you. you walk over to him and kneel down in front of him. “so where’s your bottle of lube?”

choso’s taken back. how did you know he even had some? probably just a lucky guess, but then again you are much more experienced than him. “i..um.. it’s in the desk drawer over there. the first one.”

a faint smirk plays on your lips as you roll your eyes and stand up to go get the lube. you pull your top off and throw it on the floor, revealing the lacy pattern of your bra underneath as you sit back on your knees in front of choso again. your eyes catch sight of choso’s face and you laugh, it doesn’t take much to get him worked up. being the tease you are, you give your boobs a nice squeeze. why not give him a little show?

your hands rub his thighs, slowly making their way up to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants. choso eagerly lifts his hips to let you pull his pants and boxers down his legs, and it’s laughable how excited he is.

you take his cock in your hand, quietly admiring the length and girth. it’s almost like he grew from the last time you saw him. you always heard about how nerds like him were packing, but you just thought it was a joke.. that was til choso proved you wrong of course.

his clear arousal leaks from the head of his dick and you can’t pull yourself to look away. without another thought, you lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking the precum that slid down his shaft and up towards the tip, swiping your tongue across the opening, collecting the salty liquid straight from the source. your pretty lips wrap around it and your cheeks hollow slightly while you circle your tongue around his tip.

choso groans and instinctively bucks his hips up. never did he think the guys he saw in porn were exaggerating when he watched a girl give them head, but he never expected it to feel so good. or maybe it just feels so good because the pretty girl he’s crushing on is the one who’s on her knees doing it to him.

you pull off his cock and lick the corners of your mouth as you eye the glistening head of his dick. your hands reach back and undo the clasps of your bra, letting your heavy breasts free as you pull the bra straps down.

choso’s eyes are locked on your every move and his lips part slightly as he watches you reveal your breasts to him. he’s never seen something so beautiful in his life.

“… so pretty.” he whispers more to himself, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

the corner of your lips curl yet again as you glance up at him. “of course they are, dummy.”

you toss your bra onto the bed and reach for the bottle of lubricant, spreading the lube along his dick before taking one breast in each hand and nestling choso’s cock in between your chest.

choso nearly melts from the warmth that your boobs bring, then you start moving them up and down his length and it feels like heaven.

like the first encounter with you did. a pretty girl with her tits wrapped around his cock.. damn. not to mention the occasional moments when your tongue comes out and flicks over the opening. he can’t help but feel truly blessed.

you can’t miss the way choso’s face twists in pleasure with each drag of your breasts up and down his length even if you wanted to. the soft pants and groans that leave his parted lips have caused a sticky mess in between your legs, making your panties latch onto your wet cunt.

it’s not a surprise to you that choso busts quick, someone like him obviously would. his face is a dead giveaway, and so are his mannerisms and how his knuckles are white from gripping his comforter. he came fast the last time and in a way you find it oddly charming how quickly this nerd cums. what does surprise you though, is when he opens his mouth and starts to beg.

“please… please. can i t-touch them?” he whimpers, the desperation in his voice is clear. “i-i won’t ask for anything else.. just please.”

he looks down through his heavy eyelids, silently pleading with you, and you’ve got to admit that it’s hot. you bite your lip and make a small noise of approval, stopping what you’re doing and reaching for his hands to put them on your breasts.

his large hands squeeze the soft flesh, really feeling and savoring what it’s like to have a nice pair of tits beneath his palms before his hips jerk as he holds your boobs, fucking your chest.

“ohhh.” choso whines, “can i please cum? need... need your permission.” he doesn’t care how vulnerable he sounds, he just wants to hear you give him your approval.

and here you are again, finding yourself so turned on by his words that they’ve got your pussy clenching. you can’t let on that you’re having a change of heart towards him though, so you scoff. “what the fuck are you asking me for you fucking freak? of course you can.”

leaning back on your hands slightly so you have a better view, you watch choso start to come undone right in front of you. his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open, letting the whiniest sounds tumble out of his mouth that you’ve ever heard from a man. you can feel his trembling body come to pause as he halts his movements, a second later your tits are covered in his hot cum.

his limp body continues to lay against the bed and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you still on your knees in front of him. one of your hands is holding your chest while you pick up some of his cum on your finger with your other hand, sucking it into your mouth.

you feel his eyes on you and you repeat the action with a grin. his heart skips a beat and he fears you might be the death of him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

after getting off the floor and back on your feet you grab a few tissues and wipe your face and tits before you make a random, split second decision. “keep the bra.”

choso almost chokes when he hears you say that. he opens his mouth to protest but he decides against it, knowing that whatever sharp response you say will get him hard again. you rummage around your bag before you pull out the spare bra you always carry. after all, a girl like you never knows what trouble she might get herself into.

choso watches you fix your appearance in the mirror and you catch his eye in the reflection, holding his gaze. “you know.. you’d look fine as hell if you got rid of those things.”

what ‘things’ do you mean?

choso is very obviously confused and you walk over to him with a smirk, yanking his glasses off his face and waving them in front of him. “these things, dumbass.”

you move closer to him and stand in between his legs, running a hand through his thick, dark locks. “you might actually be able to pick up bitches then.”

for some reason, you find yourself standing there staring at him for longer than you’d like to. you eventually let go of his hair and sigh, taking a step back and walking over to grab your bag, preparing to leave.

“what a shame.” you say quietly as you open the door to leave, and you truly do think it is a shame.

you’ll never admit it out loud, but maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to find that stupid little loser cute.

taglist — @cheezemanz @tojicvmslut

cleo’s note — i know some people are probably gonna ask for a part 3, but idk if i’ll keep this going so don’t get your hopes up 🥲. thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated!

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dyingswanpavlova · 3 days ago

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"Your girl" - Part 12 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Things have changed between you. But you can't even tell how much.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, mentions of pregnancy, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

You couldn’t tell what caused his change of heart, but you surely wouldn’t complain. Or be the first one to speak. Maybe, just maybe, your pride wasn't all dead yet.

By the time the door was pulled open, you needed a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light that flooded the cramped space. Again, you couldn’t tell how long you had been in there. A few hours? A day? Longer?

All you knew was that you were starving and your bladder hurt like hell.

And somehow you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about anything actually.

The time you spent in the darkness of the wardrobe, pressed against the wall like a caged animal, had served you to think about the mess you found yourself in. A part of you was still relieved that he didn’t kill you. Another part was strangely disappointed, angry even, that he doubted you in the first place.

You didn’t try to leave. And he didn’t believe you.

But what took far more space up in your mind, was the memory of what you said to him.

I love you.

I love you?

Were you out of your goddamn mind?

Surely, it must have been some desperate attempt to manipulate him into caring, so that he would let go. Surely. Surely.

But a part of you knew that was not the truth.

He had his hands wrapped around your neck, ready to end your life then and there and all you cared to say was I love you?

You felt…betrayed. You had betrayed yourself yet again.

Didn’t you possess any semblance of dignity? Of self-worth? Of anything of which you thought that it made you you?

But before you had the time to get even angrier at yourself, he opened the door.

You blinked slowly and looked up at him. It wasn’t the prettiest sight for sure. Your eyes were red and swollen, your face puffy. Dark marks in the form on his slender fingers decorated your neck. A constant reminder of the pain you were in, the danger. Your body was covered in marks and bruises. Like you were a blank canvas and he was a cruel, deranged artist.

You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t even say anything. All he did was stand there, his hand clutching the door handle tightly. You could tell he was still tense, still furious to some degree. This was far from over.

A stronger version of yourself would have tried to talk to him. To convince him. To beg him to believe you, because it was the fucking truth.

You didn’t try to leave. How could he not see it?

But instead, you carefully got to your feet. Your legs felt weak and shaky, from sitting in your kneeling position for so long. You held onto the wall and slowly stumbled out, into your room. Nothing had changed. A look out of the useless window showed you that it was getting dark outside. A day, then. It had been a day.

You sighed very softly and ran your fingers through the knots in your hair. All you wanted was a bath and a good night’s sleep. But you knew that was probably a very distant thought. Something had shifted between you, you could tell.

You didn’t get to tease him anymore, he wasn’t going to read to you either. You were back to playing games and walking on eggshells. You were back in the fangs of the evil twin.

As if to prove his point, he led you out of your room and into the bathroom, his hand hovering above the small of your back, but not quite touching you.

And then your biggest nightmare.

There was no fucking door.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted in a horrified, and yet oh-so exhausted, gasp. A part of you wanted to beg, still. At least for a tiny bit of dignity. The tiniest bit of being allowed to feel like a human being. But no. That was not what you were, right?

When he pointed to the chair in the middle of the room, you knew you weren’t human anymore.

You were a godforsaken Young-hee doll.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, despite yourself. Despite the tiny, defiant gleam in your chest. But he still wasn’t looking at you. And suddenly you knew no amount of pleading would ever help you anyway.

You wanted to cry. You really did. But at some point in the wardrobe you had your tears run dry and they hadn’t returned ever since. There was only so much a person could cry, right?

With slow, hesitant steps you finally found your place on the chair. Your eyes were fixed on the hole in the wall where once the door had been. You asked yourself what gracious surprises were there more, waiting for you, waiting to be discovered and dreaded.

When he took your wrists in his hand and tied them together with a tight knot in a tie of his, you didn’t protest. All you did was stare straight ahead.

He needed to do this. He needed to prove to you, to himself maybe, that you were nothing. Just like he had said to you, right before you straddled him and took control of the situation in the morning. You were nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

But his hands were gentle. He wasn’t being cruel or forceful about it. You couldn’t tell if that was, because you were being so compliant or if there was another reason. Whatever it was, he was really gentle. Almost ridiculously so.

When you saw him reach for the pair of scissors, you closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to see it. See, what amount of hair would have to go today. In his eyes, you had tried to escape, right? But as much as you tried to tell yourself that, you were sure, he was punishing you for something else. You just couldn’t tell what it was.

“No.” He said quietly. “Open your eyes.”

Despite the way your body begged you to keep your eyes shut, you reluctantly opened them. Of course. Right in front of the fucking mirror. A crazy man and his clueless victim.

If only you had fled.

Why didn’t you? You couldn’t stop asking yourself. Why didn’t you?

And he still wasn’t looking at you.

That was probably the worst part. You felt you were in so much pain, so much horror and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you? Was this part of the punishment?

You looked up at his face, your expression a mixture of desperation and pleading. And anger. But he never looked up. Never met your gaze. And still, you were sure, he saw you.

He kept his jaw clenched, his fingers clutching the scissors tightly.

Maybe he wasn’t even going to cut it off. Maybe he’d stab and cut you to death. Watch you bleed for his own entertainment and amusement. Maybe this was all you were to him. A cheap entertainment.

He didn’t care about your trauma, did he? Back when you told him about it. Back when you felt you nearly died, talking about it. Back then, you believed it was for some greater cause. To be his. To be free. To be at all.

Now you were sure it was all for nothing.

He took a slow breath, as if to steel himself, but then he didn’t hesitate. The sound and sight of your hair being cut off was like the final blow to your chest you needed to lose yourself entirely.

Again, he didn’t cut off an atrocious amount. You didn’t look like the scary doll yet.

But this time, he cut off double the amount he did last time. And that was nearly a third of your hair.

A few moments ago, you had been so sure that all your tears had dried out, but now you were certain they had not. The slight quiver of your lip was the warning of what was to come, right before your vision was blurred by tears. Your shoulders and your hands were shaking by the sheer pressure you applied on yourself in order not to sob.

He felt it. He wasn’t an idiot. Of course he felt it. But he still didn’t look at you.

And yet, for the tiniest, briefest moment, you were sure, you saw him hesitate.

But that didn’t stop him. He kept cutting the strands precisely and carefully, with a gentleness that was almost mocking you.

He didn’t stop until your hair decorated the floor like a silky carpet. And you felt something inside of you break. It didn’t come at once. It came slowly and stealthily. But you could practically watch in the mirror as the gleam in your eyes faded.

Who were you now? Hana, maybe?

His girl? No. The thought made your stomach churn.

His captive. You were his captive. No more and no less.

And you were sure, that was exactly what he felt as well.

The next few days passed in silence. Neither of you spoke a word to each other. He didn’t yell at you or order you around. You got to sleep in your own bed and he didn’t even try once to approach you. It was a quiet co-existence. You barely spent any time in the same room, unless it was to eat. And even then, most times he had the decency to inform you of the fact that the food was ready and then he’d leave you to it.

He'd go to work in the afternoons and come back in the middle of the night, like he usually did. He only subtly checked out if you were still there.

As if you could just go anywhere else.

But he didn’t speak.

And Hell, you were sure, you weren’t ever going to say another word to him.

The only thing that did change were the missing doors. There were no doors, except for the front door and the one in his bedroom. Of course he got to keep his fucking door. After all, it wasn’t him who got punished.

Despite it all, you found yourself longing. Thinking back to the times you had slept in his bed, felt his breath tickle your neck. The way his arms wrapped around you from behind protectively and pulled you closer to him. The way he kissed your forehead and called you sweetness.

And despite yourself, you were desperate to feel him again. Never in your life before had you ever felt this lonely. So touch-starved. So needy to be with another person. To be with him.

But you knew that was not an option. You had no idea what the situation between you was. You just knew that you hated him.

You hated him for almost killing you, for cutting off your hair. For removing all the doors and for ignoring you.

But you hated him the most, because he didn’t believe you, when you said you didn’t try to leave.

You would have understood his need to punish you, if you truly tried to leave. After all, yes, he informed you of the consequences, right? But, for God’s sake, you didn’t try to leave.

Maybe he was punishing you for the man and the way he looked at you. Like you were some beaten puppy. He had to kill him, right? If he didn’t, you were sure, the police would have flooded the apartment within the next hour.

You almost understood his motives.

And that was what scared you the most.

You tossed and turned that night, unable to find a wink of sleep. He came home later than usual and you found yourself worrying. Had something happened? Or did he finally decide to abandon you?

Maybe he’d come back when he was sure there was no more left of you than a corpse, starved to death. Or maybe he wouldn’t ever come back.

Maybe he found another obsession.

With an annoyed sigh you turned on your back and kicked the blanket away. The jealousy almost ate you up. You ran your hands through your hair and paused when you felt how it was shorter than before. Every time you felt that, you took a moment to remember it. That horrible day. It had taken so much from you. All you actually wanted was to go back in time and for things to be the way they were before. Not before he abducted you. Before that fight, before that scene. Back when he called you my love.

You sighed again and sat up in frustration. The moment you heard the door open, you exhaled in relief. He hadn’t abandoned you. And you felt bad for even thinking he would. But was it truly that unlikely?

You listened to the sounds of him coming back and going about his nightly routine. Everything stayed the same. You heard it all the better, since you had no damn door. You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. He wouldn’t approach you. He hadn’t done so in days.

He wouldn’t hold you. Wouldn’t kiss you. He was no more than a ghost in your book. Or maybe you were the ghost. You had no past, no family, nothing. All you had was him and even that seemed pretty uncertain for now.

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped you would eventually find some sleep. The sounds of his footsteps and the microwave were like a soothing lullaby and soon you were slowly drifting off to sleep. Exhaustion got the better of you, though you didn’t really understand what exhausted you so. All you did was wander these halls, eat, sleep and read a few pages of a book every now and then.

God, your days were so empty without him.

You would have even preferred to play one of his crazy mind games. Yes, you’d even prefer him to get physical with you. At least that would have required some kind of intimacy. A slap sounded just delightful in that moment. At least he’d touch you then. Look at you. And speak to you.

You were already half-asleep, so you didn’t really hear when his footsteps approached your room. Or maybe, if you heard, you told yourself it was wishful thinking. After all, why would he come here? It was the middle of the night and you were still firmly ignoring each other. Maybe it was better that way. That way you didn’t get the chance to anger him further. Maybe that way, you’d get to keep some of your hair.

No. He had no reason to come close. But he still did.

He stood in the doorway of your room, where once a door had been and leaned against the frame. His arms were crossed and he stared down at your unmoving form. He didn’t make a sound as he stood there. A small frown on his face revealed how thoughtful he truly was and how hard it was for him to hold back. There was obviously something he wanted.

You, probably.

None of this. Whenever you were in the same room, he had this cold, this calm and collected air around him, like he truly didn’t need you. Which he obviously didn’t. After all, he almost killed you.

But in that moment he had trouble hiding it. And he was probably grateful that you didn’t sense his presence behind you. He did that sometimes. He used these soft and peaceful moments to watch over you and make sure you were still there. After all, you didn’t speak. He had to make sure that you were still well and alive somehow.

But that night was different. That night the pull was far more intense than it usually was. He sighed very softly and looked down at the blister in his hand. Only four were missing. Four of twenty-eight tiny pills.

Four days in which you took the active decision against whatever the hell that was between you. It was essential to keep consequences out of the way.

But only for four days. And now, it was the eleventh day, but only four were missing. He stared down firmly at it, before he took a step closer and carefully placed the blister down on your nightstand. With another slow step he took, he hovered right above you. You looked so incredibly peaceful. He tilted his head to the side and watched you with the same, thoughtful frown. With a slow breath that he released, he reached out a hand. It hovered right above your face, his knuckles ready to push your hair back and caress your cheek. You were still so beautiful. He knew the hair had probably broken your heart. He had seen the look in your eyes, the silent tears and the way you struggled to look at him ever since. But couldn’t you see that you were still so incredibly beautiful, so exquisite? That no amount of hair lost, that no scar or mark could ever corrupt your undying beauty?

His frown deepened. And after a breath, he pulled his hand away.

He was already about to pull back and leave, when you shifted. You were obviously deep asleep, mumbling to yourself and sighing against the pillow. Your shirt rode up the tiniest bit and it revealed the skin of your waist. He clenched his jaw. Of course he felt the familiar feeling of desire stir in the pit of his stomach. But, no. Not like this. Not ever.

Not, when you couldn’t even look at him.

The sight of your waist also stirred something else in him. The indescribable urge to murder. To murder the man who once murdered your innocence. What a coward he was. To die, before he got to put his hands on him. Gutless.

He reached for the blanket, ready to wrap it around you, when his gaze wandered to your stomach for a moment. Another feeling took hold of him, far more intense than any carnal desire ever could.

His frown deepened even more and he reached out a hand, but this time he didn’t hesitate to touch you. His fingers rested on the soft, sensitive skin of your belly. You stirred, but only for a short moment. He wasn’t afraid you’d wake up. His thoughts were running rampage and he was too focused on the image in his head. The soft curve of your belly, the life that would possibly grow inside you one day. His life. His flesh and blood.

His.

Maybe it was already there. Who could tell? He had only then found the blister. But you seemed to know for what were seven days now.

His frown didn’t falter as his gaze wandered up and down your form. He exhaled a soft sigh and tilted his head down, resting his forehead against your back. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep himself from doing anything more.

You hadn’t spoken in days. He couldn’t just wake you up and demand whatever the hell. Even he knew that. But he still had to hold himself back forcefully. The feel of you, the smell of your skin, it drove him wild.

He hummed softly and leaned closer, close enough to press a soft, lingering kiss against the bare skin of your belly. You stirred again and mumbled something inaudible. He took it that was his cue to leave. With a soft sigh he got up and made his way back to the doorframe. He looked back at you once more, before he left the room.

Only four days. Huh.

You truly were his girl.

_______________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Thank you @muriels-lover for the lovely request! I loved it so much and I hope it's approximately the thing you had in mind! And also, I have your other request in the back of my mind still, don't worry, I loved that one as well!

I love you all! SO much! And I'm still working on answering all your sweet messages (which continue making me tear up, in case you didn't know!)

626 notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 2 days ago

Text

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much FLUFF and SMUT in this chap- they've been PENT UP so lol, warnings- oh boy- oral (f and m recieving) cum swallowing, breed kink, talking you through it, overstimulation, creampie, semi public sex, fingering, masturbation (both of you) multiple rounds, dirty talk, Toru obsessed, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 6.7k

Songs for this - Hands to Myself // Love Me Harder // With You

This is the end omg! Thank you for all the love on parts one and two!! I hope you all enjoy this cute ending for them as well! Comments and reblogs appreciated!

<<<Part Two - Masterlist

Part Three (Final Part)

“Oh sweetheart, this isn't where I wanted to take you first.” He murmurs, as he lifts you up so you’re bent over the counter, tip running along your glistening folds, making your head fall back in mind numbing pleasure. “Wanted it in m’bed, f-fuck you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

“Mnh!” Is all you manage, gasping when just the tip is in, stretching you so fucking good, you’re gushing out when he pulls it back, whining. “Satoru…”

“Aww, my sweet girl needs something?” Satoru laughs softly in your ear, breath tickling it as his fingers wrapping around that throat under your chin, pressing his tip back in, and he could damn near come from that, you feel so good around him. Gummy walls gripping and convulsing around his tip as he eyes your flushed cheeks, your glittering eyes.

“I swear… to god if you don’t just…” You’re arching your ass back, pressing it against him as he has your panties shoved to the side, his tip slipping down to your clit now. “Satoru!”

“Use those words, hmm? What do you want?”

“You inside me, please.” Is all you say, softly now, and he moans, sinking inside you in one stroke, filling you so good you can’t take it, shuddering as his cock stuffs you fuller than you’ve ever been. “Ah!”

“Fuck… oh my god, feel her.” His eyes shut for a moment at the sensation of you gripping his dick so well, at his tip kissing your cervix, his hand squeezing just so, tilting your chin to catch his blue eyes in the mirror. “Look at you, so fucking pretty.”

“Mnh…” You can’t manage anything else, not when his thumb presses between your lips and he begins to move, to pump inside you, you see black spots in your vision. You’re trying to catch a breath as you struggle to focus on the blurring reflection, when he fucks you so deep and slow, savoring every inch, and there are so many.

Satoru’s crying out in your ear, one hand holding your thigh then and lifting it higher, sinking even deeper into your pussy, which clenches and pulses all around him as you’re drooling. He’s slamming his cock up inside you, over and over now, a maddening rhythm as he buries his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your delicate skin, stuffing you more full, impossibly full.

“Toru… oh my… m’gonna…” You’ve never felt this, even with Satoru’s play, even with your own play, the sensation of his tip dragging on that spot in your slick walls is too much, you’re feeling the pressure build when he shoves in fully, bottoming out and turning your chin to face him.

“Cum f’me, lemme feel her, please baby.” He whispers, a mix of needy and dominant that shouldn’t make sense, but it does, as he slams his lips on yours, drinking your cries while you feel yourself come apart on him. “There it is, mmm, that’s it, let go f’me.”

You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to, the insane sensations overwhelming your every sense, everything fades when you whine into his mouth, when his tongue dips in your mouth, his cock slamming in with a lewd smack. You’re cumming so hard you can scarcely breathe, everything is him, it’s all Satoru Gojo, and you sure the fuck don’t see him as a friend right now.

His white hair is falling just so over his brow, as he yanks down your dress, revealing just enough of your pretty breasts to the mirror, moaning as he sees them bouncing with each thrust. He’s consumed by you, inside you, god he’s never felt anything, better, and he knows he’s not pulling out, fuck he never wants to even leave you.

“There you go, you’re doing s’good, taking my cock like you’re made for it, huh sweetheart?” Satoru whispers, you’re a mess when he pulls back, tilting your chin back to the mirror, as you see your face, he laughs softly. “Fucked out, so pretty. Drooling on my cock, and all over your chin huh?”

He swipes some of your drool off your face as you bite your trembling lip, tears falling at how intense every sharp thrust is of his thick cock in you. You gasp when he reaches around, rolling his finger on your clit, and you hear your squelching cunt sucking his cock so greedy, echoing off the bathroom.

“What… are we… oh my… Toru, too much, too-” He covers your mouth with one hand, while the other works your tiny clit, making you build back up, as if you’re going to explode, fucking faint.

“I love you loud, but let’s be quiet till we’re home, Sweets.” He huffs, acting as if you’re not driving him insane, as if he’s got any composure, as your cunt is milking him for everything. “You on… something?”

You nod quickly, as he’s pushing you more and more, the little circles mixed with long, slow thrusts insanity. “Pill.”

“Kinda… ha… wish you weren’t…” You attempt to scowl, but it’s just more drool as you’re hiccuping with pleasure, hands clinging to the counter, one leg dangling, the other propped up for his perfect angle.

“Wh-what?” Is all you whisper, and you catch it, the bright blue gaze, pupils pinpoints, his insane feral grin, like he’s lost it.

“Wish you weren’t… on any… want me to fill you up so good?” You’re dreaming, right!? This is some wicked day dream, yeah?

But you’re nodding, weakly, pathetic when you feel him pulsing. “Please, fill me… Toru.”

“I’ll give you anything.” He huffs, and you know it then, as you’re trembling, as he watches you so hungry while he takes you.

He’ll fucking ruin you for anyone.

He already has by existing… but this!?

“Can you take it sweetheart? All of it, like a good girl?” You nod once more, looking as the images in the mirror of you both are gone suddenly, replaced by white bursting stars as he sends you over the edge with him. “Oh my… she’s milking me, huh?”

You have absolutely no clue what he means, you just know you’re cumming so hard then you both have a hand on your mouth to muffle your cries, when he’s busting his hot load into your pulsing hole. So deep you feel it against your cervix, feel him in your tummy, pumping you so full as your muscles are contracting, damn near pushing it back down his veiny length.

“Oh m-my… baby, fuck…” He’s whimpering in your ear, hand clamped firm on your mouth as he empties is hot sticky load inside you, you’re trembling as the orgasm washes in waves, as you’re dizzy you’re so fucked out. “Best I’ve ever… you’re so perfect…”

He’s murmuring all these sweet words in your ear as he finishes pushing, and finally releases you, you’re shaking when he eases you down, cock pulling out of you, making a sticky mess between your thighs. You struggle to focus, to stand, legs so weak from cumming, from feeling him so deep, when he’s spinning you and turning you to him.

Your eyes meet, as you both take breaths, before you hear it then, the door, and you quickly adjust yourselves, Gojo pretends to be helping you with your strap, smiling charmingly to the woman there. “Clothing mishap.”

“Such a sweet couple.” She says, going to the bathroom, making you two burst in quiet laughter, grinning so big your damn cheeks hurt, looking up at Satoru then, as it all starts hitting.

What are you two?

“Are you okay?” He murmurs softly, as he watches your brows draw together, your teeth pressing into your lower lip again, so hard you’re tearing the delicate skin there. “Was I too…”

“No, no… we need to get out of here.” You take his hand in your little one, pulling him and entering the auction once more, feeling his cum sticking to your panties as it starts to trickle out, a sensation you’ve never had before.

“Are you sure? Did I hurt you?” Satoru whispers in front of the bathroom, quietly in your ear, you exhale now, looking up into blue eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, reflections of everything he’s always felt, and now more.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then… Do you regret it?” At the pain in his voice you shake your head, tears filling up in your eyes.

“God no, Satoru.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, talk.” He says, voice husky, you nod in agreement as he’s pulling you away, only to be irritatingly stopped by more and more people, then once outside, more reporters.

“How do you deal with this shit, Toru?” He sighs, wrapping you in his jacket as he waits for the limo.

“It’s gotten worse now, it wasn’t this bad before. Well, you know… you’ve been in stories with me.”

“Yeah, shit they used to call me your mistress.” You say with a snort, and he chuckles just a bit, both of your breath making puffs in the night.

“You’re my wife, though.” His words make you falter, as drips of rain start to fall, and you’re both there, you shivering in his big expensive Armani jacket, him just in some dress shirt worth more than your old car. You look how beautiful he is then, he’s always been so pretty it hurts, but how he’s looking at you!?

“Don’t say that, don’t look at me like that.” You whisper, lip trembling now, as more drops fall, and he’s cupping your face with his big hands.

“Look at you like what, sweetheart?” He murmurs softly, and you take a shaky breath then, your hands gripping his wrists, thumbs pressing over his pulse.

“Like you could love me.” Satoru laughs then, he laughs, making you scowl, shoving at him. “It’s funny!?”

“Shh, brat.” He kisses you, while more rain is falling, splashing all over your feet, and the car pulls up, the driver opening an umbrella and handing it to Satoru before sitting back in the car. Satoru takes it for a moment, opening it, as you’re both under the pattering protection. “Do you remember the day we met?”

“Yes.” You take a breath, looking up at the clear umbrella, showcasing every fat drop of precipitation, the sound merging with your heart beating in your ears. “I didn’t have an umbrella.”

“You didn’t, you were soaked, your hair all stringy.” You giggle a bit, shaking your head. “Your skin, it was glimmering… it was a weird thought for an eighth grade boy to have, glimmering. I didn’t think it was a word I knew.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as he strokes your cheek, dewy from the rain.

“Satoru, I…”

“Shh. And what happened that day?”

“You shared your umbrella.” Your lips curve up at the memory. “You were grinning so big, sunglasses in the rain, you had this giant umbrella too. With little fish all over it.”

“I still have it.”

“What!? No way.”

“Mmhmm, that was the day I met you, soaked and walking home, and what I should have said then, is that I fell for you, the moment I saw you.” You blink back tears, shaking your head, but he exhales and leans closer, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of it, as everything in the world tilts on its axis.

“You fell for me?” You whisper, and now he’s swiping your tears, smiling so big at you, a grin on his face.

“That’s what’s funny, you didn’t even know. But something clicked into place, like you were always supposed to be here, with me.”

“I fell for you that day, when you protected me from the rain, when you gave me your jacket because I was soaked.” You’re sniffling, tears flowing just like the rain all around you, his lips part just so. “I fell harder every year, every moment, every day, but I was so scared-”

“To lose me.”

“Yes, to lose you. Friends don’t just leave each other’s lives, I thought it was how I could keep you forever.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He tilts your chin up, looking at your pretty face in the night, finally ready to say it. “I can’t play it anymore, I can’t pretend, especially after being inside you. All I can think about now? Is making you mine, again, and again, and again…”

He kisses you, thinking he should have that day you met, but now there’s so much behind the kiss, as you breathe into him, as you both huddle together under your perfect little umbrella, images flash in both of your minds. Middle school Satoru and Middle school you, versus now. You were in jeans and converse, now you’re in a pretty red dress and glittery heels.

Satoru was in some dark blue jeans and a baby blue polo, you can’t forget it, nor his round glasses he wore then, now in this fancy three piece suit, but the two of you, your souls and hearts are the same. You remember your heart skipping a beat as he met you, and now his lips are taking you over. You’re clinging to him, arms around his neck, pulling back to finally say it, the words bursting forth.

“I am in love with you, Satoru Gojo. I have always been, from a crush to puppy love, to so much more, to where you consume me.” You whisper, the words like a healing balm on a soul that you didn’t realize was aching this badly.

“And I’m so in love with you it’s stupid, god I want this real, the marriage. I want it real, you in my arms, waking up in the morning, looking at this pretty face every day. Fuck every day forever if you will.” You’re sobbing as you nod, kissing him over and over again.

“Yes, I will. I’ve always wanted to.” He feels tears burning his eyes as his hand cups your pretty face, and your mouths move, more and more passionate with every tilt of your head, until you’re both breathless.

“I’ll never let you leave my goddamn bed.” He murmurs, making your cheeks heat up, your tummy clenching.

“God, we have been so stupid.” You murmur, he chuckles, blinking back his own tears.

“We were so stupid. Everyone always said so.”

You sigh, a hand brushing along the undercut, the soft damp hair pressing against your fingertips. “I love you.”

“And I love you, sweetheart. With every bit of my dumb brain and heart. I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No, don’t.” You stop him then, shaking your head. “But you can make it up to me, I think. All these years of pining.” You tease, and his voice drops an octave, eyelids lowering.

“Yeah, how?” His cock twitches right back to life when you guide him to the limo now, raising a brow, giggling just a bit.

“We have a lot of time to make up for, hmm?” Satoru’s got you in his lap, as you’re both just a bit damp but uncaring, you’re straddling him and whining, grinding where you’re both so sticky.

Satoru’s kissing every inch of you on the short ride home that he can reach, as you grind on his clothed cock, pressing your twitchy little clit, and you’re both whispering your love, your needs, your wants. A mix of sweet and completely filthy, your tongues dripping with saliva as you take over each other's senses, barely noticing as the driver knocks on the door.

Oh, Satoru is absolutely making it up to you when you run into his home, and he has you spun and pressed against the door, easing your zipper down, pressing kisses along the back of your neck. When you’re bare to him, and you turn, he sees you fully naked for the first time, his eyes wide as they run down your soft pretty breasts, the curve of your waist and hip.

“Oh my… you’re fucking beautiful, baby.” He murmurs, and you believe him, relaxing instantly, as he worships you with his gaze, and you’re shaky and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing his perfect, toned body, hands trailing down each defined line and muscle.

“You’re beautiful, Satoru.” He moans now, kissing you, but you’re sinking to your knees now, his brain short circuits for a minute, a blush dancing on his high cheeks.

“Shit I’m dreaming…” You giggle softly, shaking your head, swallowing when you see his length, still sticky from you, as he gets fully naked, his pink tip oozing precum, lapping your tongue up it, tasting his sweetness then. “Oh m-my… baby…”

He’s falling apart when you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him in your hot, wet mouth, his hands enwrapping in your still damp hair, pulling as he fucks into your mouth, making you throb at the memory of his cock inside you. Making you crave him even more as he loses control then, bracing one hand on the wall as the other pulls your head up and down his veiny length,

“Mmnh!” You’re whining as he hits deeper, pausing.

“Too much, sweets?” He murmurs. “Can you take it all f’me?”

“Probably not.” You say, pulling back with a pop of your lips, he moans at the sight of you, of the drool down your lips and chin. “You’re huge, Toru.”

Satoru knows he’s huge, but something about you saying it makes him lose it, shoving as deep as he can until you’re gagging, and he’s trembling, his cock twitching down your throat. “Know how long I’ve w-wanted this, how much I’ve stroked him to the thought? F-fuck…”

You’re soaked further, picturing it, but you have no clue the desperation and need he’s had for you, the way he’s stroked it right outside your room, whispering all the things he’d do when he had a chance. You’re even better than he could ever dream of, there’s nothing like you. Your pretty eyes looking up at him, fuck even your tears just make him harder as he pulls back then with a hiss.

“Shit, shit… get up here.” He yanks you up by your hair then, pulling it at the nape, only serving to turn you on more when he presses his lips, tasting himself as he swirls his tongue inside your mouth, bending down then, gripping you by the waist and picking you up in his arms. “The bed this time, I swear to god we’ll make it.”

“Oh will we?” You tease softly, he moans, hands gripping your ass now, feeling it fill his hands, as he’s pressing against your bare cunt, and your thighs are squeezing around his hips, whining out.

“Yes, dammit. We can fuck on this door later.” You’re giggling, so breathless as he rushes you into the room, nearly tripping in his excitement, until he’s laid you on your back, brushing your hair back gently for a moment, grinning. “I can’t believe we get to do this!?”

“You’re excited huh?” You tease, and Satoru exhales, kissing down your throat, leaning up and gripping a breast, pressing sweet kisses down the slope of it.

“Prettiest titties I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.” He murmurs, as he squishes one in his hand, sighing. “I knew it, but shit.”

“Ah!” Satoru’s sucking a nipple in his mouth now, hot tongue swirling around your areola, as your hands find purchase in his silky white locks, he elicits lewd moans from you, finally able to be loud, earning his cock rutting on the bed. Dying to fill you in every way he can, he’s latched onto the other as you’re whining softly, hips arching up, letting him feel your heat.

“Perfect, god so perfect.” Satoru’s humming to himself as he licks a trail between the valley of your breasts, hot sticky trail that glimmers under the light, igniting something in him. Glimmering.

“Need you… need more, please.” You whisper, and he grins up at you with those sharp teeth of his.

“So greedy already, huh sweetheart?” He’s cooing now, how he goes from whimpering to cocky you don’t have the brainpower to think.

“Ngh… ah! Mnh!” He’s eliciting lewd moans as he’s gripping your hips, kissing on your tummy, laughing a bit, making it tickle.

“Imagine it so fucking full?” You blink a bit, but then he’s spitting on your clit, watching it drip down as he spreads you wide, sighing as he sees it, trickles of his cum still pouring out. “You kept some in your perfect pussy, aww. You’re such a good girl.”

“Huh? Are you talking to her or m-me-ah!” Satoru’s scooping the remnants of his own cum out, tasting the both of you together.

“Mmm, I was talking to both of my girls.” You can hear and feel Satoru’s vibrating groans as he laps hungrily at your entrance, as your thighs threaten to close on his head, but he shoves them apart.

“Hold 'em up, sweets. Now.” You do as he asks eagerly, and you are just feeling so exposed, but he’s groaning even louder at the pretty sight of you. “Good girl, lemme clean you up, get you ready hmm?”

“Y-yes… Please…”

“Lemme take my time, f-fucking look at you.” He’s studying your glistening folds, your drooling little hole, shoving his tongue deep inside, his straight nose pressing on your clit, inhaling you as he drinks you both.

“Ohmygod, m’gonna-”

“Cum.” He whispers, looking up under white lashes for just a moment, and then slipping his tongue back inside, making you shatter around him, fuck he almost cums from just that, pressing against the bed more and more eager, lapping every bit of your juices up.

“M-messy… shit…” He laughs a bit as you look at him, coated in your slick, sucking on two fingers before inserting them in your sore pussy, making you hiss just a bit.

“You are messy, aren’t you? All f’me though, isn’t it?” He’s leaning over you, pressing that spongy spot in sticky gummy walls that grip him, and you nod weakly, gasping for a breath as the dizziness of your orgasm is hitting in waves. “Use your words.”

“All for you, only for you.” He moans now, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself and his cum as you’re trembling thighs squeeze his wrist, but he’s unrelenting. “It’s too much, Toru.”

“No, you can do it hmm? Gimme one more before I fill you, be good f’me, would you?” You nod weakly, earning his grin as he leans on an elbow above you, stroking his cock, watching your reaction. “Good girl, good little messy girl. So wet just for me, mmm.”

“Yes, all f‘you.” You’re whispering, your eyes rolling back a bit as he’s playing with you, feeling so overwhelmed, his cock is so warm and heavy and you’re already drunk off it, you’re feeling his sticky precum slap on your inner thighs now, making your walls clench around his fingers. “I want it in me, please”

“Mmhmm, that’s what I like to hear, begging for it, so needy, god I couldn’t even have imagined this.” He whispers, stroking his cock from the base to the tip, as you’re arching your hips up, silently begging.

“Please, in me, Toru…”

He pulls apart your legs further, easing his fingers out and kissing you deeply, his cock pressing against your soppy little hole, making you shiver as he slips it up to your clit, moaning. “Fuck you feel so good.”

“In me, please- ah!” You whine out, and with one swift thrust he’s in, so deep, making you cry out, and he’s groaning into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as he’s filling you, stretching you, owning you. His hand comes to entwine with yours, leaving you breathless as you look up into his glittering eyes. “Oh god, oh god, Toru!”

He’s thick, so thick and long, hitting deeper than he had in the bathroom, fuck it’s almost too much, it feels like you’re going to split in half. He’s giving you no time to adjust, his eyes dark now, almost black as he loses himself in you, at your pretty face, at your reddened lips. Your cunt fluttering around him, he’s sucking in a breath now, shaking his head.

“Can’t take it, you’re too good.” He huffs, then he’s moving, the sound of his hips slapping against you, your squelching cunt sucking him in greedy when your brain doesn’t know if you can take it. “You’re mine, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yours, all yours- ngh!” You scream out then, and he’s picking up the pace, fucking you quicker and harder, tip dragging along that spot over and over, as he loses himself, maddened by how perfect you feel.

“Like you’re made f’me, f-fuck baby.” He’s shocking you as he shoves your thighs up high, bending you in half. “Gonna fill you so good, can you take me?”

You just nod, unsure as your thighs squish your breasts, then he hits so deep you both scream out, that soft spot up in your cervix. His drooling tip leaks right on it as his vision blurs, focusing on the bulge forming from his cock right between the spot of your thighs, making him lose it more and more.

“Gonna give em a fuckin heir, huh? How m-many?” You can feel yourself tightening around him at his words, losing yourself in him, as he loses his mind, all the ways he’s pictured you can’t compare. No vision or image or touching himself comes close to feeling you beneath him, as he’s fucking harder and harder, losing his rythm, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.

His words are just fueling it, as his hips snap and he’s making the headboard slam against the wall, over and over as he works you, as you feel him wreck your pussy and ruin you, his blue eyes are insane to handle, but you stare right at them, hands clinging to his broad shoulders.

“That’s it, hang on t’me.” He’s whispering, lost in you now, in how impeccable you feel, in how gorgeous you are as your manicured nails press into his shoulders, only making him closer to the edge. “Wanna cum again, all over me?”

Your tears trail as you nod, sniffling as he presses in deep and his leaky tip kisses your cervix, the pleasure is so intense you can’t even think, your nails are digging into his back now, leaving little half moons as he’s pumping in and out of you, your legs shaking. You’re so close, already so exhausted from the pleasure he’s brought, but you crave more, just like him.

“I’m gonna fill you up, so good this time, even more.” His husky whisper mixes with your heart pounding in your ears, with his fancy headboard slamming the wall and the huge bed shaking with his force.

“P-please, fill me ngh!” You cry out as he buries his face against your neck, hands gripping your hips and shoving you fully on his length, eight inches stuffing you so full you’re drooling down to the balls smacking your ass now. You hear the sounds of them smacking, hear his whimpers mixing with yours, as your body feels overwhelmed with every sensation.

“You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” He’s grinning into your neck, before he bites you hard with sharp canines, and you’re gasping out in pain and pleasure, when he slams in and rolls his hips, making you feel like you’re floating.

“Y-yes, yesss!” You’re clinging to him desperately, he moans against your ear then, and just like that, he’s letting go, his cum shooting inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh m-my… you feel so fucking…” He’s huffing as he keeps pumping so much, pulling up to kiss you as he does, making you shiver and cum around his cock just from the hot gooey cum in your hole, coating your walls, so much you think you might die from the pleasure.

You’re struggling to keep tethered to the earth, clinging to him as his mouth kisses yours, and you’re messy kissing, saliva pooling as he moans and cries out, clinging to you. “Love you, love you.” You’re whispering, weakly just a breath, he leans up then, exhaling as he cups your face, studying you.

“God, I love you so much, sweetheart.” He says with a sigh, his cock twitching, still pumping his warmth in you, little spurts that make you whine, breath catching from the aftershocks of you both pulsing. “We could have been doing this, shit.”

He kisses across your collarbone, where it’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. A hand is sliding down your waist, pressing against your rib cage. You’re trying to come down, to control your breathing, hands enwrapped in his hair then.

“I can’t believe it’s real, it feels like a dream.” You murmur softly, pleasure building back in your tummy as he nips on your collarbone, cock easing out finally.

“I know, it does.” He looks at the mess he’s made of you, smirking deviously then like a little shit, like the Toru you know, and you glare.

“What’s that look for?”

“You’re so fucked out, and look.” He scoops the cum that’s dripping out of your hole, taking it on his fingers and shoving it back in, making you hiss at the soreness, at the overstimulation.

“Too much!”

“But I want her to keep it in.” He says with a pout, watching your greedy pussy suck his fingers back in now. “Look, she’s all puffy and beat up, hah.”

“I can’t stand you.” He’s chuckling, sucking both of you off him, making your mouth drop open at the sight of him, as the moonlight is filtering the room and catching on the hollows of his cheeks, your tummy heating up again. “Satoru, I think you’re actually insane.”

“You haven’t seen shit yet, sweets.” You blink in confusion, because how wasn’t this freaky!? “You’ll find out in time, you’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah.” You admit shyly, you’ve never done anything close to this, the back to back orgasms and being stretched by him have you throbbing in soreness.

“How about a nice hot shower hmm?”

“Yes please.”

Soon you’re in his luxurious shower, the one you may or may not have played with yourself in, and the one he absolutely played with himself in, and you’re sitting on his bench seat, getting your hair washed, sighing. He’s lathering it up so carefully, fragrant shampoo filling the shower, along with the rising steam of the scalding hot water beating against you both.

“I could get used to this.” You admit, he chuckles now, rinsing your hair out with one of the detachable heads, sighing as he studies you.

“I’ll wash your hair any time.” He says softly, tilting your chin up now, your eyes meet his, watching droplets fall from his snowy lashes as your hands trail down every line of his sculpted frame. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“And so will I, Toru. Anything.” He pulls you up now, against his hot naked body, both slick as he presses you against the shower wall.

“You’re my wife, you’re all mine.” He murmurs, bringing emotions into your throat.

“I’m yours, Toru, yours.”

Two Months of being married to your best friend, Satoru Gojo (it’s not fake anymore, is it?)

Satoru’s father got better, but he let Gojo take control of the company, and though it’s only been a short amount of time, you and Satoru are an absolute force to be reckoned with, the two of you the perfect power couple as you make changes from every aspect. Every higher up is affected by the changes Satoru makes, as he silently takes so many of them down.

People who need it make more money, and the rich people are still greedy little shits in their own way, but Satoru makes sure they have no easy time with it any longer, always ready to take another peg down. Of course Satoru is rich and he loves his thousand dollar shirts and fancy cars, but the generosity he has and the care speak for themselves.

You both are finishing up a press meeting, when someone in the reporters’ seats asks ‘Mr. Gojo, are you thinking of running for office?’

You pause then, smiling just a bit, as Satoru laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Oh god no, fuck all that, I would be gone from my wife too often.” He pulls you against his side now, smiling at you, his blue eyes lit up as your hand slips up his chest. “She’d be mad at me if I didn’t come home every night.”

“That’s right, I’d miss him too much.” You murmur, and everyone is oohing and ahhing as he kisses you right in front of them, but this isn’t for show.

It never was, really for show, Satoru always wanted this, he wanted to keep you forever, he just didn’t know he could in this way. He was so scared of fucking up and losing you, he kept you there in that zone of friendship, because you were just too important to him, as did you, but now you both were fully open, and it was like every piece of your puzzle fell together.

“I need to get my wife home now.” He says huskily, throwing them all a big peace sign, whispering in your ear - “I need you baby.”

You all have been insatiable the past few weeks, like flood gates opened the moment he entered you, unable to keep your hands off very long. Years and years of longing poured into him taking you in every position, some you hadn’t even seen or heard of, a mix of fucking and making love that was addicting for the both of you.

But mostly, it was easy, easy like breathing to be together, you’ve known each other forever, and those moments of peace with coffee on the balcony, or wine on the couch, were even more precious to you both. Without the unspoken feelings, with finally being open with each other, the deeper you fall in love with him every day you wake up in his big strong arms.

“You should show me, Satoru.” You murmur that night, as you’re kissing in the foyer, his hand entangled in your hair, the aching need building again.

“Show you what, sweetheart?” He murmurs, you’re both backing your way into his room, jackets tossed, stockings ripped, hunger making you both lose control, you lean up on your tiptoes, pulling him down, lips against his ear.

“How you stroked yourself for me. How often was it?” You pull back and catch his blush on his cheeks, his lips parted.

“You’re a freaky little thing, what have I unleashed?” He whispers, chuckling as you giggle, your own blush coloring your cheeks.

“I wanna see.” You pout at him now, and he rolls his blue eyes, before getting a devious smirk.

“Only if you show me how you did it.”

“Oh…” You’re nervously on the bed with him, as he lays you down, kissing across your breasts, biting on a nipple while you take your fingers, trailing them down your tummy. “You wanna see how I failed at cumming hmm?”

“Yes, but one rule. You can’t play with yourself unless I’m here.” You blink in confusion. “It’ll make me jealous.”

“You’re insane!”

“I’m serious, pookie.” He pouts now, and you’re laughing, shaking your head before you feel him taking your hand, pressing your fingers to your clit. “Let me see you play with your pretty little pussy.”

“Y-you too. Your cock, please let me.” You’re whining, soaking wet already as he leans back, stroking his length now from the base to the pretty pink tip, you watch his eyes flutter as he looks at the sight of you. “H-how often d-did you?”

“It’s… a lot.” He admits, stroking harder now, as you’re rubbing your clit in little circles, whining softly in want for him.

“Oh y-yeah?” He grins now, teeth glinting as his muscles flex, and his huge hand works his veiny length, cock twitching as he spreads your thigh with his other hand, pressing his long fingers against the plush of it.

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute, I’m m-mas- ah!”

“You’re so cute, so pretty, so s-sexy…” He’s whining now, shaking his head as you’re trying to finger yourself, crying out. “Too tiny, pathetic.”

“Oh… you’re still an… arrogant- ass of a- ngh!”

“Need help, sweets?” He huffs, and you nod, eyeing him just so, the way that melts him, ends him.

“Let’s switch.” You tug on his cock instead, the slick of your cunt making your silken little hand feel so much better, as he slips two fingers inside your soppy little cunt, and you’re gasping, back arching. “Yesyesyes!”

“Oh my god… you’re soaked…” He murmurs, leaning over and pressing that spot again and again, watching the wedding ring glint as you stroke him.

“How m-many times, didn’t answer.” You mumble, already fucked out off his fingers, Satoru sighs then.

“Three times a day.”

“Wh-what!?”

“At least.” He’s kissing you now, yanking your hand off and pinning your wrists above his head, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I also caved and took a pair of your panties.”

“You what now?” Your eyes narrow, and he’s giving you this shy, dopey grin, even as he presses his tip in your entrance, and you’re whining at the stretch.

“I tried not to, but… you really made it hard not to wanna taste you, smell you, have you on my face.” His words make your mind swirl, his eyes turning insane as they do when he’s in you, he goes from this sweet and passionate lover to batshit crazy.

But you love it.

You love him.

“Crazy ass.” You mumble, but he’s laughing as he sinks inside you, so deep, so perfect and right, and you’re whimpering, cunt dripping down his length, as your eyes struggle to not roll back.

“You love it.”

“I do.” He kisses you as he fucks into you, as you fall apart under him, until he’s on you while you’re on your tummy, pressing so deep, taking you over. You’re exhausted when you both finally have had your fill, and you’re collapsed against him in his arms as he strokes your hair.

“Maybe we should… do another ceremony.” He murmurs softly, and you yawn then, turning your head to study his face in the night.

“I don’t need one, Toru, to know how I’m your wife.” He exhales, pulling you so close against him, feeling your body and how it’s so right there, nestled against his front, how you fit perfectly. In his life, in his arms, wrapped around him, next to him.

“I kinda want one.” He admits, as you’re fading in and out of slumber, and he studies your cute little fucked out face, one he loves to watch in your sleep.

“If you want, we will. Anything you want.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything.” You kiss him, as you feel yourself fading out, smiling against his lips.

“I just want you with me. That’s all.” You’re soon lightly snoring as Satoru cuddles against you, his best friend, his wife, his everything, plotting all the things he wants to do, wants to show you, burying his face against your neck and inhaling your scent, as he hears a sleepy ‘love you Toru’ everything feels perfect.

“I just want you to come with me. Everywhere I go. Forever.” He murmurs, you’re knocked now, but he can’t stop all the pretty images in his head of his wife, and every place he wants to take her, and every surface he wants to fuck her on. He gets so excited he wonders how tired you are.

“Toru!” You’re whining later that night with his cock inside, his fingers on your clit, as he takes you from behind, spooning you, and he realizes you’re never that tired for him. You’ll always take him, and come right with him.

A/N- Aww fr ty for the love on this, I enjoyed writing it! It was supposed to be a one shot but at 22k I felt like splitting it up made sense. This was a thank you for 5k but I'm almost at 6k!? Ya'll blow my mind. Love youu

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imaroyalmess · 3 days ago

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An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift?

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I’m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made.

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

#dpax #megop #transformers one #apprentice au #d 16 #orion pax #might write more for this au as it continues!#cannot believe i wrote orion accidentally giving d16 the equivalent of a hickey #i'm not sorry tho #royal writes #i'll cross post on ao3 later maybe #did i...also technically make a transformers oc?

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ghouljams · 3 days ago

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Why is c.ai bad? Like genuine question

One of the main reasons you will see people giving as to why c.ai is bad is that much like all "generative" ai it's basically a copy/paste machine. The algorithm that runs c.ai is made by scraping the writing of millions of human authors in order to train the machine on how sentences and "romance" should be structured in order to appeal to the people using it. This is, by and large, just straight up plagiarism and authors like @/ceilidho end up having their content stolen by c.ai users in order to farm more bots.

If you don't care about the plagiarism aspect of c.ai bots then you should care about the environmental aspect of them. ChatGPT alone uses about 2.9 Wh of electricity just to run a single query, and the water used to cool the servers (again for just one question) is equal to about 3 16 oz bottles of water. Google reported their greenhouse gas emissions rose 50% in 5 years just due to ai use. 1 query can power a lightbulb for about 20 seconds, and every question is routed through a data center which uses even more electricity to answer the question. So you sending a chat to c.ai uses a massive amount of electricity, and for the bot to respond takes even more.

Not to mention data centers have to be built, which consumes a lot of resources and energy, and releases a lot of greenhouse gases. Then they have to be powered, which consumes more energy and more water, and releases even more greenhouse gases.

If 1 in 10 working US Americans asked 1 question every week for a year (52 x 17 million) that would use the same amount of energy that it would take to power EVERY HOUSEHOLD IN WASHINGTON DC (671,803) for 20 days. NPR reported on this as an "energy emergency" this is an unprecedented and explosive amount of energy being used very suddenly, very often, and by a lot of people.

Ok you don't care about that either, then let me appeal to you the person who uses c.ai. Maybe you love your favorite author's work and you really want to rp with one of their characters. Is the bot's ability to write that character really as good as the author's? Is it as satisfying? Or are you just caught up in the short-term dopamine rush of the rp?

Because I tried c.ai when it was first getting popular and let me tell you, it was nowhere near as good as the human role plays I was used to. There was no riffing, no plotting out where we wanted the rp to go, no standard reply length, I had to retry replies multiple times to get something even remotely close to something I could work with to respond to. There were filters, I couldn't use certain words or phrases. The bot couldn't remember anything past a few replies. It was BAD. The shot of dopamine I got after the first reply was gone by the time I was on the third one.

Now maybe I was just spoiled by good human rp partners, but I kept seeing people on tiktok complaining about the same problems. "How to break the c.ai filter" was a major issue. People wanted the experience of role playing or writing a fic, but they didn't want to put the effort into actually doing either of those things.

"Just let people enjoy things!" I hear you cry.

You go on c.ai because you're lonely, or bored, or because you think that finding a human to rp with is too hard or they won't like your scenario/kink/whatever. You are actively contributing to the expulsion of artists from fandom spaces and the destruction of the planet in equal measure. If all you care about is short term gratification, then go on the r/IWishIWasHer subreddit and read the rps threads there. If you actually want to roleplay with someone there are a million discord servers that do that. Hell, there are communities on tumblr that you could join and ask about roleplaying!

Relying on instant gratification will numb you to all the joys that creep towards you. If the only thing you can see is the object in front of you, then you're never going to reach for something better further away.

Not to mention none of your chats on c.ai are actually private, the server is scraping all your responses to have the ai send to other people. So if you're telling the bot some real smutty/embarrassing things that you wouldn't want anyone else to see, congrats on everyone else getting a piece of it.

#ghoul speaks #ai hate #anti-ai #anti ai

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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 2 days ago

Text

because i liked a boy - spencer reid x fem!reader

somehow a reporter finds out about reader's relationship with none other than her coworker, dr spencer reid and shames her for it during a press conference

genre: flangst wc: 1355 warnings: medialiaison!reader established relationship, slut-shaming, feminism talk, upset spencer, morgan mention, mentioned case involving children

"This is a rough composite sketch of the UnSub. If anyone sees him, please call us using the number on the screen. Any questions?" you speak clearly, eyebrows raised and back straight.

It's a tough case this time, not that any are easy. The ones involving children–like this one–are the worst. You know that. It’s yet to hit you this hard, though. You're used to being in front of a camera all fake smiles and airbrushed to look porcelain but you're struggling to hold it together today. It’s never been easy to see grieving parents begging for their kid’s life on national television.

It also doesn't help that you haven't seen Spencer much these past two days. Ever since HR found out about you two, he’s been trying to keep his distance for professionalism’s sake. You appreciate it, of course, but you wish everything could be normal again. You miss working alongside him, sneaking tiny waist pinches every little while. Maybe you’re codependent.

One of the male reporters holding a microphone asks plainly, like it isn’t rude, “how do you expect this case to go to trial with your ongoing relationship within your team? Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest?”

Now, how did they find out about that?

Luckily, Hotch steps in before you need to form a response. You’re left flushed and out of sorts, needing some water or something. It’s not like you’ve never had a bad press experience but nothing that came after you specifically. Why do they even care in the first place? Are you really that interesting? Is your love life really that interesting? His mustn’t be.

To Hotch, he spits, “it’s a valid question, Agent, you can’t expect no one to comment on one of your unit’s members sleeping her way to the top or… sleeping her way to getting a case dismissed.”

You want to stay, fight, cry, maybe even guilt him into apologizing, but, to your dismay, you’re pulled away by Morgan who looks just as upset as you do. If there weren’t a room full of people stopping him, you’re sure he would’ve hurt the guy. You don’t want to be dragged away by the action figure that is Derek Morgan so you try to pour your feelings into words. “The conference– the case–!”

Morgan stares at you in a way that very clearly says are you done? And, yes, you guess you are. You sigh, nodding reluctantly.

“Hotch will figure it out,” he assures softly but firmly.

You’re escorted to the break room where you watch the television only to see that very same reporter, spewing his nonsense again. Low and behold, he’s still stuck on the topic of you.

“An anonymous source discloses the identities of two FBI agents with the Behavioural Analysis Unit that are in a relationship of hidden rendezvous.”

The pitter-patter of your heart is louder than usual as he reads out your names along with the loving message, “I guess this proves that women really can’t be trained. What a shame, she’s certainly got–”

With that, you shut off the disgusting noises coming from someone claiming to be a man. You’ve never been good at taking insults but this was something else entirely. Your chest burns. You’re being perceived as a person you’re not. Everything you’ve tried so hard to build could all come crashing down at this very moment if you let it.

All because you liked a boy?

It feels ridiculous, like a step in the wrong direction for all womankind. That’s dramatic, you’re sure, but this is so twenty years ago. What happened to feminism, for fuck’s sakes? You wouldn’t give Spencer up for anything less than solving world hunger, but you wish this whole ordeal could’ve never happened. What if you lose your job? What if you lose this case because you’re too sensitive to male attention for your own good? Unfortunate circumstances led here and you wish it could be simple. It’s a tall order, but you wish UnSubs and all the people who enjoy pinning others down would simply cease to exist. You wish Spencer was here.

As if reading you all the way from canvassing the neighborhood, he’s suddenly visible, walking towards the doorway with quick Converse-sounding steps, Morgan’s hand on his shoulder. He looks worried. What worries you, though, is that he looks guilty. That hurts.

Familiar arms wrap around you as he kneels on the floor in front of the couch. “Hey, I heard what happened. Are you okay?” Spencer whispers, lips pressed into the fabric covering your shoulder.

You ponder the question for a moment before nodding. You’re not quite sure how you feel, if you’re being completely truthful. Criticism was never something you’ve taken well. Not ever. Maybe you deserve it, though. After all, you are sleeping with a coworker. You’re an agent, it’s not appropriate of you in the least. You should’ve kept to yourself, been the good girl the world wanted you to be. Female agents in the big bad FBI are already seen a certain way. You just happened to worsen it with wide-eyed affection.

How he always does, he mutters an explanation, “people like that don’t have anything going for them, you know. They report on others because their own life is insignificant.”

It’s wildly the wrong time to laugh but you do, flushed cheeks plumping from a happy smile. He pulls away and your hands find his face like they always seem to do. “I know.”

He nods. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

He’s so unbelievably pretty that it almost makes you want to cry. Those same somber eyes that you’re sure mirror yours stare deep.

“It just sucks… you know?” you say so very quietly.

Nodding, he chews on his lip. “I know.”

“It’s like… I thought slut-shaming was over,” you laugh bitterly.

You can tell he feels bad. It’s not like this is his fault. You know he believes it is, anyways.

“It should be. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t your fault. That useless guy should be spending the night in a cell for harassing an agent not on the ten o’clock news airing out our personal matters.”

It’s really not often you see him like this, upset and wielding pain-filled threats. It never fails to amuse you. You’re not sure why. Something about the juxtaposition of his usual sweet demeanor and this annoyed ranting one, you suppose.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Funny?”

You smile and nod, your thumb tracing his lower lip. “A little. We’re the most enthralling news in all of small-town-Colorado.”

While Spencer doesn’t find it quite as giggle-inducing, he mimics the pull of your mouth’s corners and shows his reluctant agreement with a bob of his head. “That is… silly, I guess.”

“We’re basically stars,” you shrug.

In honest disbelief and certainly awe for your ability to brush off the event with humour, he shakes his head, curls falling out of place. Your fingers rush to correct it. The golden eyes you love stay stubbornly put on your own. Breaths mix together in the close proximity despite you not recalling how you got so close. It’s proven difficult to care when his plush lips find yours. Carefully and with love, he kisses you. With no intent, no desire other than to make you feel better. It breaks stickily, the shimmer that once was on your lips now ghosting around his mouth. You grin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Spencer tenderly mutters.

Gently, you answer, “I’m sure. I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

You believe yourself. You’d never doubt your relationship with Spencer. It just sucks that they had to poke holes in your safe place. That safe place being Spencer. Your home. You know because of your profiler-by-association background that he was right about the reporter being not fulfilled enough in his own life that he had to insert himself into yours. That didn’t make it drastically better, anyway. Perhaps your personal life should be kept away from work.

But it’s not your fault that work happens to include Dr. Spencer Reid.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #sabrina carpenter #criminal minds x reader

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angelltheninth · 2 days ago

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Love your LADS writings! Could we maybe get them reacting to their girlfriend wearing their shirt?

I love writing for LADS, now that Caleb is here there's even more hot men to fawn over.

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sharing clothes, domestic fluff, clothes shopping, possessiveness, being playful, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wrote this a bit fast because my new PC came in today so I need to set it up. It's gonna be awesome.

Zayne pretends not to notice that it's his shirt you're always wearing in the mornings when you stay over at his place. It's only a shirt, he's got many more just like it. So why is it getting to him when you wear it? Simple, it looks cuter on you, and he tries not to get worked up about it, that would go against his stoic, professional self. However when he sees you waring his clothes he always tells you that it looks good on you. A sort of subltle encouragement that you should do it more often, and also spend more time at his place because he tries not to leave his clothes at your place.

Rafayel wants to buy some matching clothes when he saw that you wear his on ocassion. He's always had a good sense of style and is very happy that you do to, furthermore that you like it so much that you want to wear what he waers. When he sees you wearing his clothes he makes sure to memorize what it looked like on you so he can sketch it later. Before he knows it there are a dozen sketches of you in his clothes. Not that it's a bad thing by any means and he thinks you're catching on to him buying matching clothes because every time you're on a date you're pointing out cute outfits that you say would look great on him.

Xavier doesn't think much of it when he leaves some of his stuff at your place when he comes and goes. What he does think about is how his pants looked on you, too long, cozy, some a bit tight on you, others hanging off your hips, all depending on what you get your hands on at the time. The scene is almost domestic, seeing you not even think about putting on something of his, you don't even say why you do it and he's fascinated by that. Playfuly he tugs on the waistband of the pants and tells you he wants them back, only for you to turn the tables and tell him to take them off you if he wants them so bad.

Sylus is very perceptive of what you do when you're around him so there's no way he wouldn't notice you wearing his fancy shirts around the apartment. Those aren't exactly outfits for casual wear so there was no way you could have mistaken them for one of your own, which means you took them on purpouse. A man like him doesn't do well when other people touch what belongs to him without his permission. It's bad bussiness practice, and dangerous when you're in deep with criminals like he is. But he could be persuaded to let you get away with it, only because you're his girl and his girl can do whatever she wants with and to him.

Caleb leaves his hoodie at your place on purpouse. He did it because he wanted to use it as an excuse to visit again early, he didn't expect that you'd be wearing it when you opened the door for him. All the blood rushed to his brain and caused him to stop all train of thought for a few moments before he smirked and leaned in to whisper how cute you look, his breath hot against your lips before he claimed them in a seering kiss. From that day on he never mentioned anything about you giving him his clothes back. Why would he want it back when it looks so much better on you, sometimes it's all you wear around him.

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reiderwriter · 2 days ago

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hi Kacie :"> it's me :"> just thinking about ''reader sitting on his face in reverse cowgirl and decides to just unbutton and zip down his pants, turning this to a 69 and somehow both of them make it into a 'who's gonna make the other one finish first' competition'' nothing much how has your afternoon been I hope you'll have a great day xx -kei

A Kei request a day keeps the chances of my going to heaven away 🙏 I <3 smut

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, use of pet names (good boy), sub(ish) Spencer Reid, munch!Spencer, oral (m +f), 69ing, rough sex, face fucking, unprotected oral sex, no plot just sex. Literally no plot.

Masterlist <3

With a cock that perfect and neglected right in front of your face, you could hardly resist the temptation to give it a tiny taste.

It wasn't like it was against the rules of your non-hookups with Spencer. He'd ask for explicit pictures twice a week, which you'd happily send for the chance to be sat on his tongue by 10pm that Friday evening, days on which cases landed notwithstanding.

Hotel rooms were very convenient hook up spots, especially the ones with free condoms and tissues on both the nightstand and by the desk chair.

Not that you ever needed condoms, really. You'd never so much as touched Spencer's cock, let alone had it inside you. He was too much of a giver to take something like that from you. His cock was always hard, always visible through his pants, but he was so focused on your pleasure, he didn't care about his own needs being met.

Spencer's tongue was your personal sex toy. You'd fucked his face multiple times, grabbing his hair and forcing his nose into the bristles of hair at the end of your pelvic bone as you ground your cunt into his wet, hot mouth. You'd laid back contentedly and let him peacefully lick and suck slowly for hours on end, cumming multiple times as he explored your sensitive parts.

You'd sat on a chair, legs spread, and let him lap up your cum on his knees, because there was nothing in the world he wanted more.

More than once, you knew, he'd walked away with cum dampening his pants, having enjoyed your moans and taste so much that he'd lost it before really touching you.

But Spencer Reid was being unfair getting you to sit on his face, to look at his big, thick cock atraining through his pants, straight on, and telling you to sit still and enjoy his tongue when all you wanted was to take him as far down your throat as he could get.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you moaned again as he nipped at your clit, tongue flicking it as you felt a familiar burn of stimulation at your core.

You were going to end up roughly fucking his face if you weren't careful. His tongue just felt too good.

You slid your hands down his stomach a bit, landing on his loose pants as you repositioned your knees.

“Spencer, that's it keep going. Good boy, good boy.”

You gripped his pants tightly, using the little bit of tension to help you arch back, pushing more of your ass onto his face than before.

But your arms, already weak from a rough day at work, slipped again pushing his pants down just one more inch until his cock could finally spring loose. You wanted nothing more than to taste it, reaching forward and looking at it intensely as your mouth watered. You didn't get closer than a breath away, as Spencer immediately stopped when your mouth almost achieved its goal.

“Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Spencer mumbled crawling out from underneath you as he scrambled to get his cock back in his pants.

“Spencer-”

“I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll-”

“Spencer, slow down. What?”

You'd seen Spencer flushed with desire before, but the redness of his cheeks was different somehow now. More embarrassment than anything else.

Slowly, you crawled towards him again, trying to look as non-threatening as you could, clad only in hastily pushed aside panties and dishevelled dress. Your hand slowly traced up his thigh, and you kept it there, still for a second watching to see what Spencer would do next.

“Spencer. Why can't I see your cock?” You asked, voice low but light, almost surprising yourself with how breathy and needy you sounded.

“I… I thought you wouldn't want to see…” he trailed off, and you pouted up at him, stroking his thigh as he looked down distractedly at you.

“I want to. Can I have it now?” You asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Y/N…. It's… I've had complaints in the past, it's not…” he struggled to find the words as your hand brushed over his crotch now tracing the bulge in his pants as his head dropped backwards.

“It's not what? Big? Don't lie to me.”

“That's not it… I get… I get too overwhelmed if you do that, I get too-”

“Too….” You mimicked, dropping a hand into his underwear as his hand fell over yours, unsure whether it was to stop you or to set the pace of your impromptu hand job.

“Rough,” he said, as you firmly gripped his cock, using your other hand to free him from his pants and underwear, knocking his hand away as you ran your palm along the length of his hard cock.

“Rough?” You said, gripping the tip of his cock, teasing it until it shone with precum.

His hand fell back over yours, more firmly this time, as he met his eyes with yours.

“I didn't want to hurt you, but I get so overwhelmed if I use it that I… I get rough, I don't listen well-”

You were practically dripping listening to his explanations for not fucking you, or even letting you see his cock.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yes! It's like… Y/N, I'd treat you like a sex toy, not a person, and I want this to be good for you, too, so let's not-”

You cut him off with a rough kiss as you pressed him back into the bed, straddling his thighs as you gently fisted his cock, rubbing up and down slowly.

“I'll make a deal with you, Spencer,” you said, between gasps of air. “I'll sit on your face again, and you let me suck your cock. When you get rough, if you get rough, you'll be able to feel how much I'm enjoying it, okay?”

He nodded between kisses, words forming and melting on his tongue as his hips began thrusting into your hand, his thigh digging into your mound as he thrashed towards a climax.

“Good boy,” you said, kissing him one last time before letting go of his cock and climbing out of his lap.

His body twitched in protest, but his big hands grasped you quickly, pulling you up the bed as you eagerly went with them, losing your panties on the way as you let your dress fall around his face in an all too familiar position.

But this time, you lowered yourself down, too, spitting on his tip quickly as his tongue got to work teasing your clit slowly.

You gave him a few pumps, before lowering yourself more completely on his face, pressing your chest close to his abdomen and taking his cock slowly onto your mouth.

Spencer wasn't small, but you also weren't going to let him be a challenge. You got a few inches down before you decided to come back up again, hands still stroking the base and massaging the rest. You did that a few times before you felt Spencer's body angle up into you again.

Changing his leg position on the bed, Spencer thrust his cock up into your mouth as you forced yourself to breathe. His cock thrust up again, quickly but totally and he left it there for a few seconds before pulling it out again.

The entire time, he hadn't let up his work on your cunt. His to guess flattened out against your clit, roughly stroking that sensitive area with a precision only he knew. A hand clasped around your hips, gripping your ass kept you firmly in place on his face, as his hips bucked into you.

He got faster, wilder, and yes, rougher.

You didn't want to pull off his dick, but moving back was instinctual. He pushed you right back in with a hand on your head, fisted into your hair as he synchronised your movements, pulling your head up as he pulled his cock away from your lips, and pushing it back down when his hips snapped up.

You moaned hysterically when you came apart on his face, feeling your cum trickling down your leg as he continued to use you to get off. His to guess never stopped, even after wave after wave of your juices hit him.

The only sign of his impending orgasm was the tightening of his hands, both of them now coming down on your head, forcing you to the base of his sizable cock as your tongue touched his balls. He came down your throat and immediately releases you, spluttering and coughing as your legs trembled.

Spencer scrambled to get you on your back, pushing you upright and patting your back as you regained your breath.

“I'm sorry, Y/N, I said it wasn't a good ide-”

You pushed your cum stained tongue into his mouth, shutting him up quickly as he tasted himself, and you tasted yourself, and your tastes mingled quickly, as you climbed into his lap again.

“Spencer,” you said, catching your breath once again, collapsing into his arms.

“If I need to beg for your cock, I will. I like it rough. I-” you gasped again, feeling his cock stirring with each word.

“I very much like it when you use me like a sex toy. So… so in the future, please use all of me, and I'll use you, too.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid self insert #sub spencer reid

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no-144444 · 1 day ago

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the trouble with racing- o.piastri

summary: a the first race of the season, oscar figures something out that could change his life forever.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

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You had always loved going to races, especially to see Oscar win. Home races were a big deal, and against your better judgement, you allowed Max to drag you along. You hadn’t seen him in years, not since he left F2 and left you behind. No text, no calls, just a note saying he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn’t love you anymore. Max was your brother in law, he’d married your sister years ago, and you two had bonded over your shared love of racing, but he’d never understood why you wouldn’t go to a GP. He also didn’t get why you wouldn’t let your daughter anywhere near the sport, when she already loved it so much, but to each their own.

“Come on P,” you smiled, holding her hand and pulling her away from the gates of the paddock. All you had to do was get through the weekend. Just babysit Penelope and take care of Mia, and you’d be fine, right?

“Can we visit uncle Lando?” she asked and you grimaced.

“We’ll see, first we should put all our stuff in Redbull, yeah?” you smiled at her and she nodded, running on to catch up with Max as he walked through the paddock. Kelly, busy pregnant with her second child, had decided to stay home and not fly, thereby giving Max a reason to beg you to help him out and take care of P. You had reluctantly agreed, and that’s how you ended up in the McLaren Motorhome, chatting to Lando. You’d met him a few times before, just in passing with Max, or at P’s birthday parties. He was sweet.

“And how’s my favourite girl doing?” he asked, taking Mia out of your arms.

You chuckled, watching the exchange.

“Hi,” her meek little voice made Lando smile and laugh.

“Hi Mia,” he waved. “Do you want to have a look at my car?

She nodded.

“Do you want to sit in my car?”

She nodded vigorously.

“You don’t have to-” you started but he cut you off.

“It’s fine, mechanics are done with it anyways. Onward we go!” he giggled, and you followed behind the two with P beside you.

“I want to talk to Oscar!” P smiled.

“He’s in the garage, you can go say hi,” Lando informed her and she ran ahead, straight for the garage.

You felt your anxiety spike. He wouldn’t say anything, surely? He had nothing to say when he left. He should have nothing to say now.

Lando and Mia got on like two peas in a pod, and you took all the photos while he talked to her about the different parts of the steering wheel and how it all worked.

“Y/n?” Nicole’s voice brought you out of your bubble, and you felt yourself stiffen. “Is that you?”

You turned around to see her shocked face, Hattie, Eddie, Mae, and Tim all standing behind her, the same surprised look.

“Hi,” you smiled awkwardly. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good,” Nicole nodded, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were here. “H-How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you nodded.

“W-What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Max Verstappen is my brother in law,” you explained. “He needed help with P-”

Just then, Penelope came bounding in, Oscar hot on her tail and wrapped her arms around your midriff. “Auntie Y/n, am I allowed to root for two teams?”

You smiled down at her, playing with her hair as she leant against you. “Of course, once one of them is Max.”

She looked at you, unamused. “Of course it is silly!”

You chuckled.

“Mom!” Mia giggled. “Look, I’m a racer!”

You turned back to Lando and Mia and saw her with her hands on the steering wheel, Lando dying of laughter as he took photos. You chuckled. “Well done baby.”

You turned back to see a horrified look on Oscar’s face, and the rest of his family looking at you surprised. “Well, it was nice to see you, but I’d better get back to Redbull,” you smiled before turning back to Lando. “Thank you Lan, she loves this stuff.”

He nodded, taking her out of the car and handing her to you. “See you later,” he called as you three left.

Fuck.

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The Piastri’s were stunned into a sort of shocked silence. Nicole was looking at her son, a million thoughts running through her head.

“Lando,” Oscar spoke up. “Who’s kid is that?”

“Mia?” he asked, his face hardened. “Y/n’s.”

“How old is she?” Nicole rushed out. “Is Y/n married? Does Mia have a dad-?”

“Mia’s four,” he answered, calm and calculated. “Y/n’s been single since she found out, and Mia does have a dad; Oscar.”

And Oscar’s world crumbled. He thought he was doing the best thing for you, getting you out of his insane life before it all got too crazy for you. He thought he was fixing things by leaving you behind. But all this time, he could’ve been a dad. He could’ve been there for you, while you were pregnant, while you were exhausted with a newborn, while you were alone. There hadn’t been a day that had gone by where he didn’t think about you, and wished you were still there with him, but it was his choice, and he made it. He started at the floor, trying to process it all. That kid was half him, half you. Mia. That was the name you’d both decided on if you ever got pregnant and it was a girl. You still had him in mind when you were naming her.

“Oscar,” Lando’s voice was low. “Y/n has spend four fucking years without you, because that’s what you wanted. You wanted her to leave, so she left. She’s happy, after being very unhappy for a really long time. Do not fuck this up for her. Yes, you have a right to your child, but just think about the fact that she’s been doing fine without you for four years.”

“I-I… Can I talk to her?” he asked no one in particular. “I never knew.”

“You blocked her on everything, how was she supposed to tell you?” Lando scolded.

“Quali starts in 15 minutes,” Nicole interjected. “I’ll go speak to her.”

“No,” Oscar sighed. “I’ll talk to her after. Let me sort this out, alright?”

She nodded.

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Pole position didn’t taste as good as he wanted it to, especially when it also meant he had about 2 extra hours of interviews. He just wanted to see you. He just wanted to talk to you. He wanted to see Mia.

He rushed to the RedBull garage, searching high and low for you until he ran into Max.

“Hey mate,” Max smiled. “Alright?”

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, frantic.

“My sister in law?” he questioned and Oscar nodded. “She went back to the hotel.”

“Which hotel?”

“I’ll drive with you, come on,” Max offered and Oscar took it. “Why do you need her?”

“I just… we have to talk about some things,” Oscar explained as they sat in the back of a car, driving towards the hotel. “We went to school together.”

“No way!” Max chuckled, not getting the fact that Oscar was seriously stressed and nervous. “That’s so fun, she dated a guy called Oscar for like five years and they met in high school,” Max’s head suddenly swivelled to meet Oscar’s eyes. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Oscar lied. “No, we were just friends.”

“Good, whoever that Oscar is, is the one that left her high and dry when she got pregnant,” he scoffed. “Dickhead.”

That didn’t exactly help the pit of guilt in Oscar’s stomach, but he nodded along anyway.

The rest of the car journey was easy, both of them just chatting about the race tomorrow. When they got to the hotel, Max told him your room number, and Oscar was shooting off towards it. He stood in the elevator, it was a surreal feeling to find out that you had a kid, and he was also about to see the love of his life for the second time in four years.

He knocked on the door, and herald giggles from Mia, and his heart swelled. You opened the door a crack and smiled in his general direction, but then you realised it was him, grabbed a keycard and came out, closing the door behind you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted. “I never knew-”

“I know and I’m sorry- I didn’t want to just… spring it on you like this but I knew you’d have to find out eventually- only Lando knows you’re her dad, and I wanted to tell you, I-I just… It never felt like the right time-”

“I’m her dad?” he questioned, his eyes filling with tears. You nodded, crossing your arms. “All this time and I could've been a dad?”

“I wanted to tell you, I swear, I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to baby trap you or anything, so I let it be and I just got more and more anxious about it, so I just stopped coming to GPs. I know this is a lot and I’m sorry-” you felt yourself tearing up. You knew Oscar wanted to be dad more than anything at all, but you were terrified. He’d broken up with you using a note.

He wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’re apologising. I\m the asshole. I should’ve been here, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t. I love you-”

“Osc-”

“No, I do. I only broke up with you because Zak told me ‘no distractions or realtionships’ and even then I couldn’t break up with you in person, I had to do it with a fucking note. I’ve loved you since we met in school, and I’m sorry that I let you go through this alone. If you’ll let me, I want to be in her life, and maybe yours too.”

Your features eased gently, but he knew what it meant. He knew you like the back of his hand, still. “I’m not sure about my life, but you do have a daughter who definitely would love a dad like you.”

“An F1 driver?” he questioned.

“No,” you chuckled. “A good person, come on,” you ushered him in, revealing Mia on the bed in her pyjamas, freshly bathed as she read a book. “Mia,” you spoke gently. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet-”

“Oscar Piastri!” she cheered. “Pole position!”

He chuckled and looked at you quizzically, as you smiled.

“She got the racing bug from you,” you smiled at her, your voice low so she couldn’t hear. He beamed with pride.

“Is she into karting?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Only three days a week,” you sighed. “She loves it, as much as you did.”

He nodded. “Hi Mia, what book have you got there?”

“The ABC’s of racing,” she explained.

“Do you mind if I read it to you tonight instead of your mom?” he offered and she nodded, beaming with excitement.

He looked at you with a hopeful smile and you nodded, giving him the go-ahead. As you watched him sit beside her in bed, reading to her until she fell asleep against him, as much as your heart was full, you couldn’t escape that unmistakable dread that bubbled in your stomach. Oscar could leave again, you'd just be heartbroken. You had to be smart about this, not let him near you, just let him be a dad to Mia.

You could do that, right?

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wndaswife · 2 days ago

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there’s no need to be brave | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Sometimes things get to be too much, but you know you can always go to Wanda to feel safe and loved. She reminds you how important it is for you to be taken care of.

Word count: 3573

Tags: it’s all fluff, some humour, age gap, lightly implied age regression during one scene, wanda takes care of you and kisses you and is patient and loving and gentle

The front door rattled softly as you unlocked it. From the kitchen, Wanda looked up from her dinner preparation, anticipating your presence after coming from your afternoon classes.

She gave you the keys to her place a month ago when your classes didn’t align as much with her work hours as it did for your last semester. Now that you had the keys, it was easier to see each other without your schedules aligning.

You set down your bag in the living room, shedding your coat on top of it, before practically sliding your feet over to the kitchen lazily. You didn’t even lift your head; it was only the vague figure of Wanda that you needed in order to navigate around the counter and wrap your arms around her body.

Her arms were trapped under yours, forcing her to wiggle them out of your hold so she could hug you.

“Baby, are you alright?” she asked, her voice light but her tone concerned.

You buried your face in her chest. You had meant to reply to her question, but as soon as you opened your mouth you no longer wanted to answer, so you mumbled incoherently into her soft breasts.

“Sweetheart,” Wanda tried again, leaning back to get a look at you.

Finally, you lifted your head, squinting as you looked up at her in the light of the kitchen. She immediately cupped your face with both hands, brushing back your hair.

“I hardly got any sleep last night,” you said, straightening so your face wasn’t in Wanda’s chest anymore but now facing her.

Her eyes followed yours as you looked around the kitchen while you spoke. One hand dropped to your shoulder, her thumb stroking you softly while her other hand remained cupping your cheek.

“Yesterday, I woke up at eight to study, then last night I slept for two hours before my nine a.m. class, then took an hour nap between classes, and my head hurts and I think I’m getting tunnel vision and I’m scared I’m gonna start hallucinating soon, because isn’t that a sign of sleep deprivation?”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but you continued.

“At least I’ve eaten, but I don’t know if it’s enough, because I was still hungry while coming over here, and I can’t go home because they’re fixing the hydro so I don’t have running water until midnight — I don’t know why they scheduled the construction in the middle of the day — and I want to shower, and it was so cold outside–”

Suddenly the hand that had been cupping your cheek was over your mouth, and you finally looked at Wanda who was staring at you with a gentle gaze. Upon meeting her eyes she smiled at you, so subtly that the corners of her eyes crinkled just slightly.

Slowly, she put down her hand then wrapped that arm around your waist, holding you against her. She dropped her other hand from your shoulder and held your hand.

“You can shower here. My water is working just fine,” she said slowly. “I’m preparing dinner now, so stay over tonight and we can eat a proper meal together. If you’re hungry now, anything in the kitchen is yours.”

She watched your expression relax and your shoulders untense, and she smiled a little when you tried to shuffle closer although you were already standing against her.

“Take another nap, baby. Shower in my room then sleep in my bed.”

You nodded wordlessly.

As your face relaxed and when your mind seemed much less troubled, Wanda took a good look at you. She stroked your hand with her thumb.

“You do look tired…” she said sympathetically. “Please go up to shower — it’ll relax you. Are you still hungry? I can make something for you before you have your nap. I’ll go up after you’ve finished showering.”

Internally, you felt like teasing her for how she was very much talking to you like you were her child. But oh, how badly you just wanted to be taken care of like a child.

You nodded again, looking up at her.

Then, at the sight of her face, her pretty face and her beautiful eyes, and her soft hair and the slope of her nose and the line and curl of her lips, you leaned in for a kiss.

Wanda pulled back slightly, and your eyes darted up from her lips to her eyes. She let go of your hand, lifting her own in front of your face, wiggling her fingers a little.

“Don’t lick your lips; I was handling raw meat before you came in and I touched your face,” she warned, smiling guiltily.

You looked over to the counter and saw Wanda’s bowl of ground meat, and around it, her spices and other vegetables she had yet to prepare.

At the sight of your to-be dinner and the idea of Wanda preparing it and cooking it all up, you laid your head on her shoulder and buried your face in her neck.

“Oh, doll…” she whispered, cradling the back of your head as you tucked your face under her jaw.

“Now you’ll have to shower, right? Because I rubbed raw meat on your neck?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could hear Wanda’s grin forming even though your face was buried in her neck. When she spoke next, you were at least sure that she was speaking while grinning.

“Is that what you were doing?” she asked. “You could’ve just asked.

Wanda tucked your hair back, exposing the side of your face. She kissed your temple. “Give me a few minutes to finish with the meat, so I can refrigerate it. Wait for me upstairs.”

After some minutes, Wanda found you sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for her. She smiled at the sight of you wrapped in a towel, looking up at her as she entered.

Eagerly, you all but lept from your spot and turned to run the shower, testing it with your hand until it became warm while Wanda undressed behind you.

When she had taken all her clothes off, she approached you and undid your towel before laying it on the sink.

You turned, wrapping your arms around her, feeling her smooth bare skin immediately warming your own upon contact with her.

“I washed my face,” you informed her before squeezing your eyes shut and puckering out your lips.

A soft kiss was then pressed to your lips, your lips relaxing from its puckering. Wanda’s hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone tenderly.

“My sweet girl…” she whispered softly as she parted from the kiss.

In the shower, Wanda washed your hair with her shampoo instead of yours.

“I’m… feeling kinda…” you started quietly, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“Mmm?” Wanda hummed, busy with massaging her soapy fingers against your scalp.

“Kinda… little.”

”I know, baby,” she replied softly. “Just let me take care of you.“

You wondered if Wanda, too, imagined that she heard your smile when it formed bashfully at her response, like you had in the kitchen when you heard her grin.

Earlier, you had been planning to tell Wanda about the other things which had made you feel upset, like how you were behind in your readings and how you were almost certain you did terribly on your midterm paper.

But in the shower, all those things just disappeared.

A part of you worried for just a moment that Wanda might even think you were being silly or overly dramatic for being upset over only the things you mentioned earlier, so you figured you ought to tell her the whole story.

But when Wanda turned around and let you wash her hair, you knew there was no way she’d ever think that about you.

It made you feel like crying.

Really, you didn’t know why you felt the urge. Maybe it was because it was just a touching sentiment, or because you were overcome with how safe and cared for you felt, in the steam and warmth of Wanda’s shower, her hair in your hands, and her bare body just a few inches from you — Wanda just a few inches from you.

When she turned around to start washing your body after her hair was rinsed, her eyes fell upon your face for just a moment, and within that moment, you could tell that she noticed you looked like you were about to cry.

And when you really were about to cry, you didn’t notice yourself; it was Wanda’s immediate comforting that made you realize you were.

Then, at your soft hiccups, you knew for sure you were crying.

Her arms surrounded you, and you buried your face in her neck. Your damp cheeks blended with the wet warmth of her skin, making your face feel flushed.

“Shh, it’s okay now,” she spoke gently. Her arm wrapped around your waist had her warm palm against the middle of your back, her other cradling the back of your head. “I know it gets hard…”

You sniffled and opened your eyes, watching the water drip from the ends of Wanda’s hair through your bleary eyes.

“You’re tired and frustrated,” she said. “You just need to be taken care of, right?” She felt you nodding against her shoulder slightly.

“There we go. It’ll be alright, honey. All you need is a little bit of time.”

Your arms squeezed around her waist.

“I need you,” you insisted.

“I’m here, Y/N.”

Though you felt you didn’t need anything to eat until dinner, Wanda prepared a snack for you anyway, insisting that you eat something. You asked her to wake you up for dinner because you didn’t want it to get cold before you woke up.

You wanted to wear her pajamas too, so she picked out a comfy pair for you. You were practically beaming as you snuggled down into her neatly-made bed.

After a few minutes, Wanda came up with some apple slices and some peanut butter on the side. She told you to get to sleep right after eating, and you weren’t even worried you’d accidentally keep yourself up.

With dinner being prepared and Wanda promising to wake you up once it was finished, you snuggled into her bed, promptly falling asleep in her pajamas after eating the snack she put together for you.

Over dinner, now that you felt far more rested but still extremely eager to sleep cuddled up to Wanda soon, you spoke about her day, and very little about yours, since you didn’t want to think about it.

She sat beside you, touching you occasionally, her hand rubbing your shoulder as she spoke or playing with your fingers that were laying on your thigh.

She asked how you liked dinner, and scooted closer to you when you told her how much you liked it.

“When was the last time you had a full meal, baby?”

“A full meal?” you asked, thinking about what qualified as a full meal, let alone a meal at all.

She squeezed your hand as she took a drink from her glass. “One cooked in a kitchen, and warm.”

“Instant noodles in a pot, two evenings ago.”

“That’s not a meal, Y/N.”

“Then… A week and a half ago. When I went for dinner with my friends.”

Wanda let go of your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear. “You need to eat better, baby. Can you come over more often?”

“Can I sleep over more?”

The corners of Wanda’s eyes crinkled when a smile immediately formed on her face, the tips of her ears rising just a twitch. “Please do,” she answered.

While you were brushing your teeth, Wanda came up after getting the dishes into the dishwasher. She insisted she do it herself while you got ready.

She smiled at the sight of you still in her pajamas, brushing your teeth in her washroom. She approached you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, your mouth full of minty suds.

When you had both finished getting ready, you crawled over the bed and laid your head down in Wanda’s lap and brought your knees to your stomach, like a puppy. She set her phone down and laid her hand on your head, massaging your scalp and forehead softly.

Satisfied and relaxed, you closed your eyes.

“I miss you when you’re busy at school, baby…” she said softly, her voice gentle and a little sleepy.

You opened your eyes and turned onto your back so you could look up at her. The lamp on her nightstand embraced her in a warm glowing outline around the crown of her head through her hair, making the soft glow look like a halo.

“Really…?” you asked.

Her warm hand cupped your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin. She nodded. “So much. I think of you all the time, Y/N. Our phone calls aren’t enough.”

You turned your body and pressed your face against her stomach.

After a few silent moments of Wanda brushing her fingers through your hair. “Why don’t you take care of yourself? You need to eat and sleep properly, honey.”

You muffled indiscernible words into her stomach, not really trying to give an answer.

“Are you listening, Y/N?”

You spoke, intelligibly this time, albeit still against her stomach. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Let’s get into bed,” she said, taking your chin in her hand and making you look up at her. She smiled down at you and you turned your head to kiss her palm.

You weren’t ready to stop clinging onto Wanda even after she turned off the lights and you got under the blankets together; your arms were wrapped around her waist snugly, your head tucked under her chin. Her hand gently stroked the back of your head.

Your breathing was in time with Wanda’s in a way that when her chest expanded as she inhaled, your shoulders relaxed as you exhaled, creating a subtle push and pull of your bodies’ contact.

“I think I might’ve done really badly on my midterm paper,” you said quietly, turning your head and opening your eyes, looking at the subtle shifting of her shoulders.

“Really?” she asked, continuing to stroke the back of your head. “Why?”

The heavy ache in your chest that arose when you normally thought about your terrible paper had somehow dissipated, and in its place a dull and hollowed out feeling where you expected to feel its weight.

You tightened your arm around Wanda’s waist, pressing your chest against hers.

“I knew it was terrible as I was writing it. I was just in such a rush. I didn’t take the time to plan it — nothing,” you explained. The words felt like a confession, finally releasing what you’d done without denying it to yourself and storing it deep within that ache that was presently missing.

“What happens if you get a bad mark?”

For the first time, you genuinely thought about a future that took place after receiving the paper’s grade. “I guess I’d have to talk to a teaching assistant about it… Or my professor.”

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment. “It’ll be alright, Y/N. It’s a midterm for a reason; it's not your final, and you’ll certainly have ways to make up for it.”

“But it’s just stupid…” you mumbled, hiding your face in Wanda’s chest again.

She pulled her head back a bit and looked down at you. “What’s stupid, baby? Come on, look at me when you’re talking.”

“No, I don’t want to,” you replied childishly.

Wanda gave in with an exhale through her nose and rested her chin on top of your head again. “Can you tell me what’s frustrating you?”

“I’m just stupid. I’m supposed to be able to do these things properly, and I can’t.”

“It’s not that you can’t, Y/N, it’s just that you couldn’t for that assignment. Don’t call yourself stupid.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” you insisted. “You weren’t there with me when I knew I could’ve done better.”

Above you, Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighed. She took your chin in her hand and forced you to lift your head from her chest.

You looked up at her.

“Why do you want me to scold you so badly, hm? You want me to agree with you and tell me you should’ve and could’ve done better, and that you’ve done a terrible thing?”

The suggestion wasn’t entirely far from what you had been trying to do, but the idea of Wanda actually doing it made you upset. You felt your bottom lip tremble a little.

“Why won’t you just make me feel bad about things? Just make me feel bad about things I do.”

Pads of her fingers pressed against your cheeks and Wanda frowned as she looked down at you.

“I would never do that, Y/N,” she told you softly.

You couldn’t tell if you felt more defiant and stubborn, or overwhelmed again by the realization of how much Wanda loved you.

“Why not?” you asked.

Her hand combed down your hair until she was holding the side of your face in her hand. “I love you. You’re loved when you’re with me. That’s why.”

You rubbed eyes with the back of your wrist, feeling an onset of tears. You didn’t want to cry — it wasn’t the time, and all you’d been doing since you arrived was cry and whine and want Wanda’s attention.

“Oh, baby…” Wanda whispered, kissing your forehead and pulling your head against her chest again. “I know. You’re just feeling overwhelmed.”

You wrapped your arm tightly around her waist again, now feeling her shirt dampening against your cheeks.

“I will always be proud of you, Y/N,” she spoke against the top of your head. Her hand rubbed your upper back. “I will never scold you for falling behind or making a mistake when you tried your best. And I know you did. You’re a hard worker and a good girl.”

At her words, your silent tears grew into soft sobs and pathetic whimpers which you didn’t care enough to try and silence.

Wanda asked with a sweet and patient tone, “You’re a good girl, right, sweetheart?”

You nodded against her chest.

She pulled away and lifted your face up with two hands. She wiped your tears away and craned her head down to kiss you softly.

When she pulled away, you sniffled and immediately wrapped your arms around her neck to give her a hug.

Several quick kisses were pressed to your cheek, and Wanda hugged you tighter. You knew that her arms were hugged around your torso, but it really felt like she was hugging you all over.

“You will always have somewhere to go to be loved and cared for, Y/N. I love you so much,” she said, her lips brushing against your temple.

You were a mess of sniffles and whines. “But I can’t come over as much as I want. I wish I was with you all the time. I wish I didn’t have to go anywhere, ever.”

“I know, sweetheart. I wish you could stay here all the time and wake up with me every morning, and be here every time I get back from work. I wish neither of us had to do anything.”

Her fingers combed through your hair. “But I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. I’m not upset when you can’t visit. I know you get busy and I want you to do well in school. You’re a very smart girl.”

“I love you, Wanda,” you said. Your words were slightly muffled but your lips were close to her ear, so she could hear. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life. I love you so much.”

Wanda’s arms tightened slightly around your body. “I love you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you either. Talking and being with you is my favourite part of every day. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

For the rest of the night, you and Wanda talked about how you’d figure out having you come over more. Now that you had keys to her place, you could come whenever you wanted, even if she was at work, and stay until she got home.

She suggested you come over just to eat between classes even if she was out, but you said you weren’t ready to be at her place without her yet; it would feel too lonely and you wanted to see her every time you came over.

In the morning, Wanda made you breakfast while you brewed the coffee. You didn’t want to miss her when she left for work, so you woke up early and decided to study on campus before your first class, so you could leave with her and spend more time with her in the car.

Everything in the world and in your life made so much sense when you were doing your daily tasks with Wanda, as if your ordinary life was meant to be aligned with hers.

This was the woman you were supposed to spend your life with, and it was no wonder everything felt better when you were with her.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

Note

g!p Agatha that cockwarms reader while cuddling on the couch watching TV then gets desperate, gets a pillow under reader's ass to elevate her hips and breed her good to make sure it sticks

Ohhhh

Yes. Just yes. I decided to write a short little thing about this because fuck what a delicious image and I need a break from studying

Touchdowns and teasing

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: g!p Agatha, breeding kink, cockwarming, sex, mommy kink, american football

The moment you slide down onto Agatha's cock and feel her stretch you out, you know that you're not going to last long.

The two of you are watching a football game, her favorite team against yours, and it's tied going into the fourth quarter. The two of you had been talking smack all day and making bets, and it came to a culmination during a commercial break just a few minutes ago when Agatha suggested that you cockwarm her during the last part and then whoever's team won would get to be on top.

She groans beneath you as your walls squeeze her length and you think she might not make it the quarter either.

You shift, trying to adjust and find a spot that doesn't make you want to cum right away, and Agatha whimpers.

"You're not supposed to move," she says through gritted teeth, arms wrapping around your waist tightly, laying a palm on the bulge she's making in your stomach. She presses slightly and you take a sharp breath.

It's so hard to stay still because she's filling you so deliciously, but also because you can feel her pulsing inside you and you want her to move more than anything else.

Her team scores and she jumps with excitement, and it involuntarily thrusts her cock deeper inside you and you moan and clench down around her even more.

"Fuck," Agatha curses, immediately freezing, and her cock twitches. Eventually, she relaxes and you try to focus on the TV, but all you can think about is how good she feels inside you.

But you're not the only one affected — Agatha's breathing has quickened and her nails are digging into your hips, her cock throbbing inside your wet cunt every so often.

Your team throws an interception and you swear, accidentally lurching forward to throw your arms up incredulously at the screen. Agatha lets out a strangled gasp, hands roughly tightening their hold on you, and her cock seems to swell.

"I can't believe he didn't catch that!" you exclaim, almost forgetting the state that you're in and Agatha breathlessly chuckles.

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your head. "Not looking too good for you," she hums smugly and you roll your eyes.

Agatha and you are both very competitive, and even worse losers.

So if you're not going to win this bet, you're going to at least win something.

You clench your walls tightly around her, eliciting an explicit groan from her, and she bucks up into you uncontrollably.

"Honey," she warns, voice thick and dangerous, and you know she'd wipe the smirk off your face if she could see it.

Slowly starting to rock back and forth ever so slightly, you take immense pleasure in the sounds that start to fall out of her mouth. And then you turn it up a notch. "Mommy, please, I need you," you whine and Agatha jerks up again.

"Stop," she hisses, her cock throbbing again, and you know you've almost got her.

You rise slowly and she lets you — dragging your pussy lips against her cock and she groans when she sees herself glistening with your wetness. "Mommy — fuck, I need you, I need you to breed me," you rasp, making your voice sound as desperate as possible because you know that's the surest way to get her to break.

Agatha growls in your ear and you know that you won.

She pushes you forward, her cock slipping out of you, before she grabs your waist and flips you over onto your back and you get your first look at her since you started the challenge.

Her face is pink, vein prominent in her forehead, and her cock is so messy. You swallow hard in anticipation and she studies you while you watch her cock bob up and down, leaking everywhere.

And then she grabs the couch pillow from behind her and shoves it under your hips and shoves your legs even wider than they were before leaning over and sheathing her cock back inside you.

Both of you groan and she sets a quick pace.

"Gonna breed you, baby, mommy's gonna breed you," she grunts and all you can do is moan, your eyes rolling back in your head, as she fills you perfectly, the elevated angle of your hips allowing her to get even deeper inside you.

You babble something incoherently and your head falls back against the couch, pleasure making your mind spin, and Agatha’s rhythm begins faltering quickly as your walls convulse around her.

Agatha’s thrusts become short and fast snaps of her hips, driving her cock as far as it reaches into you. “Gonna breed you so good,” she prattles, voice tight and hot, and she leans down to lick a stripe up your neck. You turn your head so she can get better access and she nips at your throat. “Mommy’s gonna fill you up, gonna make sure it sticks.”

You gasp and roll your hips up to meet her cock and you’re not sure she’s ever been this deep inside you. Her hands grab onto your wrists and pin them up above your head against the couch and she’s right on top of you so you can watch her face contort with how good it feels, just like you’re sure yours is.

Pleasure is fraying your veins and there are no thoughts left in your head. “Please, mommy, need you to cum inside me,” you beg and she lets out an unrestrained moan, furiously nodding her head.

“Fuck, your cunt feels so good around me,” she croaks and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she watches you. She’s throbbing and pulsing and you know she’s not going to last much longer.

Neither are you. “Mommy, I’m so close,” you cry. Agatha is panting above you, a glazed over look in her eyes, and you can’t help but clench at the sight.

Her breath is pained and sharp and her hips stutter. “Yeah, yes, fuck, mommy’s gonna cum, mama’s gonna cum inside you,” she groans and you swear loudly before pleasure completely overtakes you.

It’s not even five seconds later that she has her orgasm, stiffening on top of you with a high-pitched keen, before shallowly rutting into you while you feel her cum get pumped into your cunt and paint your walls warm and white. It almost makes you cum again and you continue to ride it out.

Agatha collapses on top of you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your lips and face while you feel her cock begin to soften inside you. She loves to do this after sex — just keep her cum inside you for as long as she can before she pulls out.

Cockwarming after she fucks you often goes a lot better than doing it before.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Agatha muses, glancing up at the TV. You crane your head to look and see that her team is now up by ten points with three minutes left to go. She gives you a soft, little thrust, her cock twitching and slowly beginning to harden again.

“Mommy,” you gasp, still sensitive. You can feel her cum starting to leak out of you around her cock.

She smirks and kisses you again, snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, making your hips jump. “Shh, baby. Remember, we had a bet. I’m just going to stay right here until the game is over. And then you’re going to take everything I give you, isn’t that right?”

All you can do is nod and clench around her.

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

#asks #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along #agatha harkness fanfic

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ceilidho · 3 days ago

Text

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 10 masterlist

Only after incinerating the original samples do you second guess your actions.

Too late by then. By the time it occurs to you that it might’ve been smarter to keep the samples to reference later, they’re already in biohazard bins, autoclaved and in the process of being incinerated, flames dancing behind the glass.

You can only watch dispassionately. Mistakes made in crisis; you keep yielding to the thin stretch of fear across the vanishing point of your paranoia and hoping you won’t make the same mistake again, only to repeat the same pattern.

Over lunch in the mess, you bite back your anxiety and ask Gaz to come by the lab in the morning in order to draw another vial of blood. He spreads his legs under the table until his knees taps against yours.

There’s a glint in his eye when he smiles. “Something wrong with the one from yesterday?”

Stare and swallow your pride. “I…accidentally contaminated it. Can you come by?”

“Of course, doctor. Anything for you.”

You grit your teeth to avoid snapping at him in front of everyone else, the mess full for a change. Under the table, you press your knees together until your legs tremble.

True to his word, Gaz comes by first thing in the morning, perky enough to rub you the wrong way. You slept poorly again though, so it’d be hard to rub you the right way.

“You look tired, love,” Gaz observes quietly, the paper crinkling under him as he sits himself down on the exam table.

“I am tired.” Your voice is subdued, weary, but somehow the thought of being vulnerable in front of him doesn’t scare you the way it once did. Your dynamic these days is an interesting one. Two people in on the same secret. It makes you feel almost close to him in a way, a shared intimacy that doesn’t extend to the rest of the crew.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” he asks.

“No, I—”

A man stands at the end of a long corridor, shrouded in darkness.

You are powerless to stop him unless he wants to be stopped.

He is coming for you. He is holding out his hand and waiting for you to take it.

You rub your forehead where it aches. “No. Not enough.”

Hadir follows not long after, the door sliding shut behind him as you prep the syringe. You don’t respond when he says good morning, not in the mood for pleasantries or conversation with everything else going on. It’s hard to feel up to being friendly when this whole situation feels like a thinly veiled attempt to monitor you, like you’re the untrustworthy one when two feet away, Gaz sits with a serene smile on his face and twiddles his thumbs.

There’s a small pleasure in plunging a needle into his vein again, but you’re not cruel enough to try and make it hurt. You’re not even sure if you could.

He doesn’t so much as wince.

You’re much more efficient about it with Hadir hovering over your shoulder, immediately transferring Gaz’s blood into capillary tubes after drawing it from him and flitting to the other side of the room to place the tubes into the centrifuge. It’s not a long wait—ten minutes tops—but you spend it hunched over the centrifuge. On the other side of the room, Gaz and Hadir chit chat like nothing’s wrong.

The second the centrifuge beeps, you pop the lid and remove the tubes. Perfectly separated; no different than the day before. You repeat the same steps as Hadir watches, pipetting the supernatant fluid into a new test tube and preparing the slides, shoulders tense the whole time. Waiting for him to stop and correct you.

It never comes—as it shouldn’t. You may not be above question, but you’re good at your job. You wouldn’t have messed up something as simple as a blood test of all things.

Then, you sit down in front of the microscope.

Something in your gut tells you what’s going to happen before it does. You slip the slide under the microscope and lean forward into the eyepiece only to find perfectly normal red blood cells. No strange wandering cells bending into confounding shapes. Just erythrocytes sitting peacefully on the blood smear slide, not overlapping and not too widely spread apart.

You look over at Gaz when Hadir takes your place, the man still sitting on the examination table as if waiting for your permission to leave. The smile on his face is as placid as ever, almost affectionate. You’d almost believe it too, if you didn’t know any better.

Why are you doing this? You wish you could just ask him outright. It borders on the cruel. Like a humiliation ritual, the both of you knowing that the blood cells under the microscope aren’t what they seem. Why are you putting me through this?

His eyes twinkle. Because I can, they say.

It doesn’t take Hadir very long to come to the same conclusion as you.

“Looks all good to me,” Hadir pronounces, smiling brightly when he pulls away from the eyepiece. “See, doc? Yesterday’s must’ve been a fluke.”

You nod instead of answering. It seems trivial to respond with words; nothing you could say would express the deep well opening up inside of you, the ever widening gap between you and the reality you once took for granted. All you can do is sit there in silence as the two of them leave together.

That seemingly no one aside from you can seem to articulate or even comprehend the magnitude of the situation at hand is starting to get to you.

Deep within every quiet corner of the universe lie the seeds of destruction; a throbbing, cancerous heart. There’s no epiphany there though, no revelation or moment of enlightenment to shock you to your core—you know that life and death are inextricably intertwined, an egg nesting within another egg. Supermassive black holes at the centre of galaxies. Figs and wasps. Beginnings and endings.

Now one is knocking at your door, asking to come in.

The day severs itself into two when Farah finds you making a cup of tea in the galley. Your guard is already up when the door slides open and she marches in, so geared up to be scolded that you flinch at the sound of the door sliding shut.

“We need to talk,” Farah says. Her tone brooks no argument. You’ve been dreading this confrontation, but you aren’t particularly shocked by its arrival. News travels fast in confined spaces; gossip faster. You knew from the second that you got Hadir involved after promising that you wouldn’t share your misgivings about Gaz with anyone other than Farah that this would be coming.

“Now?”

“If you’re not busy.”

You’re not and you know she knows that, so instead of arguing you just nod and pour your tea down the sink, following her out of the galley.

She steers you down a hallway away from the main corridor that leads towards the brig and several supply rooms. At the end of the hall, the brig just around the bend behind her, Farah stops and turns to face you, arms across her chest. Her face is set in a stern cast.

“Why did you ask Hadir to help you with a blood test? He’s not the ship’s medic.”

That being her first question does come as a surprise. You’d assumed she’d immediately tear into you about involving Hadir in your arrangement, not interrogate you about leaning on another crew member for advice and support.

“I didn’t ask him to. He volunteered.”

“Why did he volunteer?”

“I…thought there was something wrong with Gaz’s blood sample from the other day. I asked him if he could confirm if there was something wrong. I just needed a second pair of eyes.”

A terrible idea in retrospect. You should’ve anticipated Hadir’s reaction and the subsequent fallout.

“He told me about what you said yesterday. About Gaz. Do I need to be concerned?”

“Well, I am concerned about Gaz. If you’d seen his blood the other day—”

“I mean concerned about you.”

You blink, floored. “Concerned about me?” you ask in bewilderment. “What did I do?”

“You told Hadir that you didn’t think Gaz was human. How is anyone supposed to take that? You might not like him, but he's part of the crew now, and insinuating that about someone on the crew is—”

“Wait, wait—I’m sorry I got Hadir involved when I said I wouldn’t, but—I thought when you said you’d keep an eye on Gaz that it meant you…had similar suspicions.”

She looks at you strangely. “I never promised to keep an eye on Gaz. What are you talking about?”

Her response leaves you at a loss for words. Suddenly and acutely aware that you have been having two separate conversations—you assuming that Farah’s frustration stemmed from involving her brother when she previously asked you not to, and her assuming something entirely different.

“Yes, we did,” you insist. “You told me the other day that you would as long as—”

Something moves in the shadows.

Your eyes flick towards it instinctively. Then your body goes rigid.

A slender, dark eyed woman watches you from the end of the hall, her lips tilted up in an enigmatic grin. Half-shrouded in shadow, you notice her only because you catch her moving in your peripheral vision when she shifts her weight to one leg. You notice first the familiar stripped headscarf wrapped around her head. Then, the smaller details of her face—full eyebrows and aquiline nose, the soft rounded corners of her jaw pulled tight with her smile.

“Doctor?” the Farah in front of you asks. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, blood pressure spiking.

The other woman takes a step into the light. It’s Farah in shape and appearance, but there’s something off about it. Like you’re aware now of something intrinsically lesser about it when shown in opposition to the real thing.

The Farah in front of you frowns, concerned at your sudden silence. You’re aware now of how much more solid she is, real as a gut punch. Real as grass beneath your feet back on Earth or the heat of the sun on your face, all dulled out in space.

“Did we talk the other day?” you ask. “The other day—after the navigation system was fixed?”

And her eyes say it before her lips do.

“We haven’t spoken in days. I stayed back to help Alex after that meeting.”

Cold reality flashes briefly before you: hollow voices and replicas. What have your eyes been seeing? Reality laps against the smoothened rocks of your mind. Do you know what’s happening to you?

Can you trust what’s really in front of you?

The thing behind Farah wearing her face approaches without sound, coming closer and closer until it stands right beside her, mirroring her stance, its face screwing itself into a similarly serious expression. Double vision. Your vision is blurry around the edges, fear making you tremble something fierce.

You keep waiting for Farah to notice it standing right beside her, for her to suddenly turn her head and see it there, but she doesn’t. She stares at you with mounting concern.

And then you blink, the two versions blurring and then overlapping.

Your throat makes a sound like a whimper. You take a step back, the metal clang of your boot against the floor jarring in the silence.

“I have to go,” you whisper, the blood draining from your face, your lips almost numb.

She calls after you when you turn around, hurrying back down the hall whence you came, but you don’t stop, breaking into a run when you hear Farah come after you.

Rat in a maze. Mouse in a trap. You scurry down corridors knowing that there’s no place to run to. At every point, there is a wall past which you cannot go. Hauntingly familiar twists and turns, everything saturated with the memory of itself, the same walls you’ve seen innumerable times. The ship fills with low creaks and hollow sounds, cramped quarters and over familiarity to the point of suffocation.

And then the nothingness that waits for you right outside the ship. Billions upon billions of miles of dark emptiness surrounding you, only occasionally interrupted by pockets of cold clouds of gas, even more seldomly coming together in precisely the right way for a star or planet to be born.

Set in contrast with the vast infinity just beyond your walls, the ship feels impossibly small. A tiny speck floating through the cosmos.

You wish you could wrench a window open and climb out of it.

You can feel it swell up in your chest at first, bigger and bigger, stretching you around its immensity. Suddenly unable to take in a full breath, your chest too tight for your lungs to fill. Your body is somewhere else behind you, on a ship drifting through space, no certainty that you’ll ever return home. Earth is so far away—tens of millions of miles away from you and no way to get back.

There’s a hand on your nape suddenly.

“Hey,” a low voice murmurs. “Are you alright, love?”

You don’t answer, heaving for breath. Chest collapsing in on itself. A dying star; tiny, tiny light flickering in and out of existence. Hands sweating profusely. Heart hammering against your chest so hard it hurts.

“I’m with you, love—I’m not going anywhere.”

The voice murmurs low in your ear again, susurrus but too far away for you to make out. Then, a hand on your low back guiding you away, tucking you into a soft, warm place. You go with it. Dark. No blinding artificial lights blinding you.

“C’mon, breathe with me,” the voice guides you. “Deep breaths. In, out, in, out—”

You follow their instructions, taking in a shaky breath and holding before expelling it.

“There you go—that’s good,” he praises softly.

The come down is rough. All that adrenaline dumping straight out of you, heart still lurching in your chest. You’ve never had a panic attack before, but you know what to expect in the aftermath and it doesn’t disappoint. You might as well have been hit by a truck for how much your body aches.

When you finally have the wherewithal to look around and take stock of the situation, you notice that you’re in someone else’s quarters, the lights dimmed until only a sliver of light penetrates through the dark. It’s one of the smaller rooms, no porthole to gaze out through into the blackness of space—only a cot and a folding table mounted into the wall.

Crouched in front of you, your limp hands held in his while his thumbs rub soothing circles on the backs of your hands, is Gaz.

Your horror is a beast on the periphery of your consciousness. Too depleted for it to overwhelm you. But you feel it balloon in your chest even though it doesn’t have the strength to move you.

“Love, listen—shh, no, no, no,” Gaz shushes you when you try to cry out. “No, enough, you need to calm down. Just let me speak, alright?”

He shuffles closer to you until he looms over you, your knees spread wide to accommodate him. You get a better sense of his true size from this angle, the man composed of solid, compact muscle, his narrow waist deceptive, giving him a leaner appearance from afar than up close. You know now how much room he can take up when he wants to.

“None of this is your fault,” he says. He shifts, releasing your hands to cup your elbows instead, smoothing his hands up your arms. “You’ve worked so hard to show them the truth, but they just don’t want to see.”

“It’s—they can’t see because of you—” you croak.

Gaz shakes his head. “No, no. If they wanted to, they’d see through it. Like you have.”

“No—you’re doing something to me.”

His lips flick up into a smile. “Doing something?”

“You’re making me see things that aren’t there,” you whisper, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t even know what’s fucking real anymore—you’re scaring me.”

Even this close, you smell nothing. No heat emanates from his body or breath puffs from his lungs. It’s like a monolith looms over you, staring down at you through eyes that you can see but cannot comprehend. For all intents and purposes, he looks like a man. But he is not; he is something altogether different.

A habitation of otherness smiling down at your unraveling interiority.

“I can make them believe you. I can help them see it with their own eyes. Would you like that, love?”

He says it with so much tenderness, stroking the backs of his knuckles over your cheek.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer at first. You’re stuck gazing into his eyes.

“What I mean,” he says, leaning in until his words are all you can hear. “Is that I can take away every shadow of doubt from their minds until all that’s left is the cold clarity of certitude. Show them what I’ve shown you.”

Gaz cups your face in both hands, fingers spread wide over your cheeks and neck, drawing you in until your lips brush against his. Softer than you expected, with a touch of texture. You don’t know what to think of him anymore, whether it’s your lips touching his now or whether this is all happening in your head.

Then your lips part and he sighs into your mouth. His lips glide over yours, tenderer than you expected. Soft and wet; silky. Warmth spreads across your chest, everything suddenly concentrated on his kiss. It deepens almost naturally, your hands lifting to fist in the collar of his shirt and drag him closer to you, exhaling harshly into his mouth when you pull back to breathe, only to fall back into him again. Mouth tasting of something you can’t put your finger on; almost ambrosial.

Is this what he’s wanted this whole time? The thought vanishes as soon as it comes. You’re a ball on a tether swinging in circles, a small planet orbiting this sun. And you’re slowly, but surely, sinking into him, gravity pulling you so close that you can feel the heat of flames against your cheeks.

He breaks the kiss and your eyes flutter open to find him staring back at you through half-lidded eyes. “Well?”

“Please.”

Gaz smiles against your lips.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #gaz/reader #kyle gaz garrick/reader

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